Express, and yet...not.

I could no longer stand the suspense, waiting for the U.S. publication of Nigella Express on November 1st, so I ordered a copy from amazon.co.uk. In recent weeks, I've been like a horse wearing blinders, trying not to read about the recipes and look at pictures and especially Kelly-Jane's blog, so that I would be opening the book with as few preconceived thoughts as possible on the content. It's been killing me, though, so I broke down. The book should arrive next week.
Meanwhile, I was thinking about how Nigella often says she has friends dropping by during the week, and seems to have many opportunities to throw together a meal for pals popping in for dinner. I thought, "Really?!" I never have people over during the week. I'm too frazzled! The boys get home from school, they're starving, so I start throwing food at them the minute they walk in the door. Then they do homework and run around, and it's the craziest time of the day. Plus, my friends seem to all be doing the same thing at their houses, so they don't think to drop in. Nevermind the additional fact that we live in the middle of nowhere, so the act of dropping in practically requires a map, compass, and helicopter cable with a hook.
And then, miraculously, it happened. I had a school-night dinner party! And it was impromptu! I felt almost as crazy-cool as Nigella.
Thursday morning we were devoid of all food and drink. There was hardly a crust of bread in the house, and so I did a big grocery shop and came home with a chicken for roasting, the makings of lasagne, and ground beef for Sloppy Joes or something. I also had fruit, a couple huge bottles of juice, some fresh vegetables, and chicken broth.
In my ongoing campaign to Force Autumn, I also bought cranberry sauce, thinking that we could have the chicken, some green beans, potatoes, cranberries, and get into a pre-Thanksgiving mode. And as I put away groceries, I thought, All this food, I should invite the neighbors over for dinner. [Beat.] Nah.I'm beginning to think my default is laziness.
After school, our charming little neighbor, Nina, came over to play. Nina is loved by the boys, and was ever-the-more welcome, this week, since they've been bellowing about needing a Princess Leia, and I said "no" to the request for a sister. So Nina came over, along with Leslie, her mother. Leslie stayed and we talked and talked, and then Mark, Nina's father/Leslie's husband, rang the doorbell and joined us. Things were getting exciting when Troy offered Mark a rum drink and Mark accepted. I had a bubbling feeling that Something New was happening here, and though nothing was said, I threw the chicken into the oven and set the timer.
Finally, after another hour, I set about trimming green beans and peeling potatoes, and insisted that everyone stay for dinner. There! I'd done it! And we all went into action, setting the table, refreshing drinks, lighting candles, and, eh, changing a diaper (Cooper's impeccable timing). This week-night, impromptu dinner felt like a fête. I was very impressed with Mark's chicken carving skills.

Now, normally, if I'd had another family over for dinner, I would have prepared twice as much food as what I had. Yet the last-minute element imbued me with a feeling of "make-do" resourcefulness, and removed all concerns about having enough food. I felt that we'd make do, and if people were still hungry after eating what was set out on the table, we'd simply take it from there.
And here's where the "express" part ends. Once we started eating, there was no rush whatsoever. We sat at the table and continued talking and talking until it became so late, we knew we had to get the children to bed or we'd all suffer horribly in the morning when the alarm went off for school.

Everyone packed it in, I left the dishes on the counter, and went up to bed.
I just wish I'd taken a picture of someone texting over the boiling pot of potatoes!