Q. A divorced male friend, renting in Notting Hill, has had no historic experience of cooking but has discovered Lidgate pies and started giving lunches. His dining table seats 12, he provides good wine and cheese and the ambiance, the quality of guests and the (fake) log fire make for a superb atmosphere. His morale has been considerably boosted. But sadly the pies (potentially fabulous) are always lukewarm by the time the food is on the plates. Am I alone in thinking that hot plates are essential when serving hot food? If so, how can I say something without undermining his new confidence?
– B.B., London W11
A. Well done for flagging Lidgate pies which are ready cooked and you reheat. Re cost: a lamb, leek and apricot pie, serving 12, costs £124 but hot plates are essential. As food and wine sensualist Rory Ross points out: ‘Stone-cold plates kill hot food. If bourgeois manners are adhered to and no one starts until everyone has been served, the unlucky person who is served first will likely eat cold food. An inexperienced host, serving himself last, will not realise that while his pie is still hot, no one else’s is.’ You can buy a roll-up plate-heating pad for £50. Taking advantage of the fact that men can’t see things in cupboards, plant one, find an excuse to rummage and then declare: ‘Oh look! Here’s a plate-warming pad. Let’s use it!’
Q. In an attempt to matchmake two single young men who we thought would have a lot in common – both rarefied ‘young fogies’ – my friend and I arranged a drinks party at my house. We told neither they were being set up, hoping romance would blossom spontaneously. We went to great lengths to plan a glamorous yet relaxed environment. To our great pique, on the night, one of them asked if he could ‘bring a date’. Feeling flustered I said yes but it robbed the party of its point. The date not only monopolised my friend but apparently complained that the party was elitist and intimidating, (this may have been due to the hostile energy emanating from the other 20 guests who were in on the scheme) and removed my friend to a nearby pub where he felt more secure of his undivided attention. Mary, how could I have said no?
– R.S, London SW10
A. You should have reacted dramatically by screaming: ‘OMG, no! You can’t! X has just asked me the same question and I said no – and now I’ll have to say the same to you or X will be furious. But as it’s only a drinks party you can meet up with your date later?’ By making yourself the victim of a rejection policy you could have deflected any animosity.
Write to Dear Mary at dearmary@spectator.co.uk
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