My son Christopher’s girlfriend’s parents are in town, visiting from Johnson, Kansas. I had them over for dinner last night.
I wasn’t brought up to entertain. I can count on the fingers of one hand how many times my parents had any relatives over for a meal in my whole entire life. I’m an indifferent cook at best. Left on my own, I would live on English muffins with butter and jam. I pretty much live on that right now, anyway.
But I did my best. I served potato salad from King Soopers, but I put it in a pretty pottery bowl; bread from King Soopers, but the fancy kind that you bake in your own oven for ten minutes so it tastes fresh baked; pickled beets canned by Grandpa’s friend Billie – a home-made touch, though not home-made by me. Christopher grilled (in the rain). Dessert was peach crisp from Colorado’s delicious Western Slope peaches, the last of a 25-pound box I bought from a Fairview High School marching band fundraiser. I didn’t serve coffee, because I don’t know to do coffee. I didn’t serve alcohol, because Samantha’s parents don’t drink. The table had mismatched dishes, because I don’t have six of anything, but I alternated three of one set with three of another, so they seemed to be purposefully placed.
The highpoint of the evening was taking everybody on a little drive of Boulder before we ate: NCAR (the National Center for Atmospheric Research, designed by I.E. Pei), the Dushambe Teahouse, Chautauqua. I may be a mediocre cook, but I’m an excellent Tour Guide Lady.
The next time you’re in Boulder, stop by for an okay meal and a fabulous scenic tour, and we’ll have a fun evening together.
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It's the company and not so much the cuisine that counts. I'm sure Christopher's girlfriend's parents loved it. What's not to love about potato salad?
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