Morning-after regrets
Today, I will write about morning-after regret. Not the kind with the throbbing head and queasy stomach from too much partying, but another kind. I will write about the regret that comes the morning after you’ve hosted a party and have given away all the leftovers.
My morning after came this past Monday. For scheduling reasons, we hosted the Dolinar Family Christmas Jan. 3. It was a lively, delicious gathering for 15 people. The farmer made the main courses: two pans of the best lasagna ever and a righteously juicy ham. Our guests filled in the dishes around it, with green bean casserole, hash-brown casserole, a crunchy Jello-vegetable salad and enough desserts to cover the kitchen table. Notable on the goody menu were my mom’s coconut cake, my sister’s pretzel Jello salad and cookies, cookies, cookies. It was a feast.
As usual, we made too much. As a hostess, I worry we’ll run out of something, that a cousin or grandparent will head back to the buffet for just a bit more, say, lasagna, only to find the pan empty. Better to have too much than too little. And so, as we’re shopping and cooking, we make more than we need, knowing everybody appreciates having a little to take home with them.
Sunday, as the light outside started to dim and the party started to wind down, it was time to say goodbye. I got up from the dining room table and waddled into the kitchen to find every horizontal surface covered with platters and bowls of food. I pulled the plastic containers from the cupboard and set about filling them with food.
This is always the most tedious part of entertaining. After shopping for, cooking, serving and (probably most significant) eating this food all day, I’d had enough of it. With my belly round and full, it was a struggle facing it all once more.
Some guests were feeling the same way, and declined their take home bags. But I insisted, and each family drove away with enough food to cover at least a lunch and dinner the next day. All of the food except a small plate of cookies was gone. I was happy not to have to offload any more food into aluminum foil or plastic baggies.
You know how they say it’s smart to grocery shop on a full stomach, so you won’t buy so much? I think the same theory applies in this case. When you are stuffed from dinner – and in a bit of a sugar coma from all the Jello pretzel salad – your brain says you will never want to eat any more of this food. You will never want to eat again, period. Best to just give it away.
But then comes the regret. Monday morning I woke feeling hungry. What would taste good, I thought? I know: some lasagna. Ham in an omelet with a lasagna chaser. Oh, and some of that hash brown stuff!
I opened the fridge. Nothing. All gone. In my sugar haze and food fatigue of the night before, I’d given away the kingdom. My stomach growling, I opened a box of Cheerios, poured on some sad skim milk, and ate what was definitely not the breakfast of champions.
It was my own fault, and I learned something. Even when you think you are tired of something, look ahead a few steps to what life will be like without it. Also, next time I entertain, I will grab some of the lasagna and ham and spirit it away before the dinner begins.
It will be there the morning after. No regrets.