Just the word is fancy. When I was a little girl, the word ‘Or Durbs’ always meant vienna sausages dipped in mustard and wrapped in crescent roll dough and baked until the puffy golden pastries oozed with grease and made the kitchen smell like company was coming.
Of course, this took preparation on my mother’s part. She dreaded the idea of entertaining company. She had to stock the pantry with viennas and buy a roll of pop ‘n fresh, and of course turn the oven on, preheat, roll up the cold nubs of meat and wait on them to bake. So if someone popped in unexpectedly, nothing was popping out of the oven anytime soon.
Not me. I still have flashes of embarrassment when I remember the time my husband’s college friends appeared suddenly, along with their lovely, well-dressed and perfectly manicured wives. I had nothing to offer! I folded up some kind of chicken and cream cheese business in a tortilla and fried it. I know, it doesn’t sound bad. But it was. The mixture ran all down their wrists as they tried to act like what I presented them was edible.
Now I have a little secret. I keep a little round of Boursin cheese in the fridge, along with a jar of Kalamata olives. I guard one package of pita chips or fancy crackers, not allowing them to be opened. And if anyone comes to my doorstep, I simple throw the cheese and crackers on a plate, mound the olives in a little bowl on the side, snip a few boughs of rosemary (okay, I’m bragging. the rosemary has long since expired) and swoosh around my kitchen like I am one of those.
So now I find myself sitting around, just waiting on guests to appear out of nowhere. And I don’t dread it at all.