Your Wheelhouse

Where’s your wheelhouse? 

Where’s your go-to place for feeling confident in your knowledge, skill and familiarity?  Somewhere where, even if things do go a bit wrong, they won’t go disastrously wrong because, well, you’re ready for anything and can roll with the punches?  Your wheelhouse doesn’t need to be anything formal or something you’ve actually been trained or schooled in, but more a life comfort zone place where the best of you can shine. 

Where’s my wheelhouse? 

At first glance, my wheelhouse will likely seem a bit superficial (I’m sure at first glance I seem a bit superficial too, but I really don’t care) – it’s obviously not in an operating theatre or behind the wheel of an ambulance, but it’s pretty life crux stuff in its own little way.  My wheelhouse, if I had to say, is entertaining.   No, that’s it:  entertaining – like hosting parties.

I love hosting anything and everything:  open house drop in shindigs; bring your slippers movie nights; good old fashioned booze ups; formal dinner parties; bridal / baby showers; casual buffet affairs – you name it, I’m on it.   From deciding to do it, to invites, menu planning, cocktail concocting, cooking and getting the old place in order it’s all full on fun to me.  I will admit to being a bit of an OCD planner (you can admit I’m a LOT of an OCD planner), which takes all of the day of stress off the table, but truth be told even spontaneous affairs never stress me out – they almost relax me. 

Entertaining big & small was the way I was brought up – the restaurant business is deeply embedded in my DNA, and growing up our home was simply an extension of the family restaurant.  People coming over, food cooking, beverages pouring, lots of laughter.  It seems that any monumental occasion that took place in my extended family happened at our house.  We were pros and ran things like a military operation:  Dad was the General, of course, and the rest of us simply followed his instructions and took our posts really seriously (fun is very serious business!  Do you want to be running out for ice during a party because YOU FORGOT THE ICE?? Criminal!) – even as full grown adults and my brother as a schooled restauranteur, we never went rogue with anything.  Why mess?  We had tents and clowns and DJs and animals on spits (just lambs & pigs, relax) and so many amazing times.  Clean up was always a pain, but, hey – you can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.

Growing up like this takes the edge of entertaining for sure, but it also added some initial pressure. I am, of course, the black sheep of the family by eschewing the family business and going into … finance, and I shied away from this sort of thing for awhile.  I figured without a full on restaurant, large house and small army backing me how could I succeed.  I soon came to miss it, though – the warm feeling that comes out of the very simple notion of breaking bread with good friends when the only real thing on the agenda is more wine and laughter.  There were obviously some initial marginal disasters (nothing blue soup or food poisoning worthy) that you can only learn from - like, some things are not worth making from scratch (baba ghanoush, seriously, why bother?), it’s typically best when you keep things simple and, of course, stick with what you know.  I’m not Martha Stewart-y in my methods or execution as sometimes I think she does forget that it’s really all about the company of friends, but I am particular (surprise!) and I prefer not to leave anything to chance.  This means there’s always enough food & drink for at least 10 or 20 more people, so please – come one come all!

There you go, friends.   I’m sitting in my house surrounded by you all, your plates and glasses are full and there are big smiles on your faces, and, maybe, I had a little part in putting those smiles there - that’s my wheelhouse.  What’s yours?