A Reivers Kitchen Nightmare

We have probably foolishly decided to throw a house-warming party on Friday the 13th inviting people over for drinks and nibbles – this then resulted in the debate with Mrs Reiver as to what nibbles constituted in an Indian context, as they seem to expect a full feed on most occasions. I am now charged with producing food and drinks for 30 or maybe 50 people covering carnivores, vegetarians and vegans with snack food but enough so that they don’t go hungry, and within the context that there may well be no electricity on the night – so no pressure then. Mrs Reiver even wants it also to be reliably edible and tasty – she should have learned by now that my experimental cooking is rarely both.

I am dredging my 70s past and pretending it is now posh – so sausages on sticks have now become chorizo kebabs, little sandwiches have become Ciabatta slices with Chinese fried fillet steak, and Pease Pudding has become garlic pea puree and chilli ‘hummus’. I have found supplies of Blue Nun and Mateus Rose extra-ordinarily limited and neither sight nor sound of a Watneys Party 7 – so we may have to rely on contemporary drinks, and I may still be tempted by trying a supply of India’s first Malt Whisky (from Goa).

The 70s will be well represented on the music selection although what our Indian aquaintances will make of the juxtaposition of some Manilow magic with a blast of the Pistols I am not sure. I was vetoed on working up the Friday the 13th theme too much and my idea for putting small blood stained pillows with and embedded axe in each of the bathrooms was not well received, neither was greeting the guests wearing a hockey mask and holding a cake slice.

The dry run last night was anything but with the disposable cups that we got proving far from water or wine –tight. Friday promises to be an interesting day, as we shop for a giant block of ice for drinks cooling, and hope that everything comes together, and that the building site next door doesn’t provide too much noise competition. In case they do I have the stocks of rum and coke and a Lindisfarne medley prepared for late night competitive collective Karaoke.

By the end of the evening guests may wish that they were ‘Sitting in a sleazy snack bar sucking sickly sausage rolls’ and hope that it was all a bad dream.