It started with six people and a borrowed table. By the end of the year there were sometimes fourteen, two tables pushed together and a bench from the garden. Nobody ever cooked anything complicated.
Bigger is easier
A dinner for four is a performance. Every dish is noticed, every silence too. A dinner for twelve runs itself: conversations split and merge, people pass plates, and the cook gets to sit down.
One pot, one bowl, one bottle
The rule was simple: one big pot from the host, one bowl of something from each guest, one bottle per couple. It never failed, and it never produced the same dinner twice.
The point of it
None of us remembers the food in detail. We remember who sat next to whom, the night the power went out and the candles came out, and how late it always got.
