Our first set of dining room chairs were discards from Denver Public Schools. Creaky and gum-stuck, they carried us through many bottles of wine at dinners tediously composed of quarter-teaspoons and four-hour play-lists that matched the menu course-for-course.
Two comments:
- I really don’t want to think about what it means to outgrow a set of dining room chairs.
- Gather a group of loose friends and agree that you’ll meet once a month for dinner. Rotate houses; the host pics the menu and cooks the food, the guests bring the wine. Pick friends that you don’t know well. Agree to stick to it, for years. Grow up, have kids, buy houses and cars - wreck them - move on; take vacations and promotions, get hopelessly lost in hobbies - and meet once a month to share your life, your wine, your food with friends. Eat what you are served; drink what is poured; laugh when you want to.
