The Communal Table

My sweet husband recently became “preoccupied” with a great price on one of those folding 8’ long tables at Costco. He was right, it was very sturdy (as sturdy as a folding table can be) and the price was definitely right, but it wasn’t something we had been in the market for. He talked about this for days, even planning where we could store the table when it wasn’t in use. I was perplexed by how enthusiastic he was over this table. After about the fourth day I finally said “but, really, we don’t need a folding table. We already have one.” “Yes, but, think about how many people we could feed this way. We could set it up on the deck when the weather’s nice. And think about how many people we could feed!” That’s when it finally dawned on me, it wasn’t the actual physical table that was speaking to him, it was the concept of the communal table that was resonating so strongly.

Some of our very best meals, very best memories have been made around the table with a group of friends. I’m not talking about the biggies (Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter) when you’re expected to host a feast. I’m talking about those glorious gatherings that are purely by choice, fueled by the desire to break bread and linger at the table with great food and great conversation.

If I close my eyes, I can see the image of an evening last October that can only be described as magical. The inspiration behind the night was a brilliant idea; a few couples got together and decided they would each invite a couple they knew, but had not done anything with socially. As an added incentive to mingle, guests were invited to sit anywhere they liked, except not next to their own spouse. Thus began “A Night In Tuscany.” Picture 27 people gathered at one very, very long table on the terrace of a beautiful home. Before you could finish what you had on your plate, the platters, bowls and baskets would make another round. Abundant, delicious food, a happy group of people, the perfect setting, idyllic lighting, it was like a dinner party scene in a movie. Snippets of conversation and laughter, praise for the food, murmurs of “the best dinner party ever” elbow to elbow, bite by bite…the clanking of flatware, plates, and glasses set to the hum of a dozen different conversations punctuated by the swoosh and glug of wine glasses being refilled provided the soundtrack.

Another unforgettable night with friends was a stormy summer evening a few years back. It was just six of us, our friends (who are amazing cooks), their kids and the two of us. No matter, the communal table is about quality, not quantity, don’t you think? Anyway, our friends were preparing the meal and asked us to bring dessert. These friends are always a joy, but this particular night was perfection in every way. We didn’t discuss the menu in advance, but were delighted to read our hosts kitchen chalkboard when we arrived. The menu read “Tequila Lime Chicken, Buttermilk Mashed Potatoes, Haricots Verts,” all Barefoot Contessa recipes. We laughed out loud at our contribution; we brought the Barefoot Contessa’s Brownie Tart. Serendipity! Even as I write this, I can hear the sound of the summer rain falling and taste that first bite of Tequila Lime Chicken. I can’t remember how long we stayed the night, but I’m certain we stayed way too late and loved every minute of it.

Not long after that memorable night, these friends introduced us to another couple who, in turn, gathered all of us around their table for an unforgettable low country boil. As the main attraction was still in process outside they served bacon wrapped jalapenos stuffed with cream cheese. (Trust me; if you think you don’t like jalapenos, these will be a game changer for sure. We’ll talk about that recipe another day.) For the main event they presented a glorious platter laden with shrimp, sausage, potatoes and corn on the cob (seasoned to perfection, of course). We ate and we ate and we ate. We laughed and we talked. There’s something about sharing the bounty of that communal platter that fosters real togetherness. You share more, you laugh louder, and you stay around the table longer to keep the feeling going. I remember the food was incredible, the night was totally relaxing, but most of all, I remember laughing so much that my face actually ached by the end of the evening. Good times, my friends, in fact, the best of times.