Jump to recipe for spring berry fizz

Back in the social gathering age – you know, the halcyon days of six weeks ago – I used to enjoy theme parties. It’s fun to get dressed up, eat cleverly-named food and play a grownup game of make-believe for a while. Of course, a theme party is never a totally immersive experience. Most are more about nostalgia than they are about authenticity or nuance. Last time I went to Medieval Times, I didn’t get into it with my serving wench about the rampant urban unrest that led to the 1323 peasant revolt in Flanders. I was too busy stuffing my face with rotisserie chicken and rooting for the red knight to pull off the winning horse dance moves.

But that’s the appeal of the theme party – it’s a chance for an escape.

Recently though, the words “escape” and “nostalgia” have taken on new meanings. The other day I found myself feeling wistful about riding in elevators. “Party” means something different now too. So, I’ve come up with a list of nostalgic theme parties we can throw in in our current, socially distanced state. The below menu and activity ideas can help you journey to a bygone era of reckless handshaking, salad bars and using public restrooms with abandon. You can pay tribute to all the things you never thought you’d miss.

Sam’s Club Sample Party

Menu:

• Assorted samples – Fill several plates with tiny portions of all foods you didn’t even know you had until quarantine. For example: crab bisque from a box, turkey jerky; the white chocolate candies from your Advent calendar; gummy multivitamins; green Ghostbusters-themed cereal; etc.

Yes, I know Sam’s Club is still open. But it’s not like it was in it’s heyday. Back in February, that place used to get wild. I’m talking 1/4 pound hotdogs for a dollar. Giant cups that you could fill with any combination of soft drinks, as many times as you wanted. Samples everywhere.

To replicate this anything-goes, bacchanal atmosphere in your own home, create a sample hunt. Put plates of various toothpick-skewered foods in unexpected places and then see which of your roommates (partners, children, pets – everyone can participate!) can find them the fastest.

Play a game of Hot Sample Musical Chairs. As soon as the party starts, put a frozen pizza in your toaster oven and stand by. Have all the party participants take slow, wide circles by the kitchen as it bakes. Anyone who makes eye contact with you is automatically disqualified. When the pizza is done, cut it into tiny squares. Place each square into its own muffin wrapper and onto a tray. Do this as slowly as humanly possible. Also, make sure there is one less pizza square than there are players. Once you turn around with the tray, the players must all try to grab samples as quickly as they can. Whoever doesn’t get a sample has to cook and slice the corn dogs in the next round.

Office Party

Menu:

• Store-bought sheet cake with shelf-stable frosting – Homemade is fine in a pinch, but home bakers just don’t have access to the chemicals that will get those rosettes the perfect shade of tongue-dying blue.
• Coffee with all the powdered creamer and sugar packets you’ve ferreted into your purse over the past year.
• Meat, cheese and crudités – This is a great excuse to clean out your fridge’s vegetable and cheese drawers. Assemble any or all of the following on your largest platter: olives, lunch meat, cheese (cubed), crackers, pickles, grapes, strawberries (if it’s a fancy party), pineapple, broccoli, cauliflower and baby carrots (At least 1/4 desiccated if it’s not a fancy party). And if you have ranch dressing, I don’t know what you’re waiting for. Now is the time to use it.

Just because you can’t go into the office doesn’t mean you have to give up mid-afternoon, food-driven interactions with your coworkers. Set up the spread somewhere in your home where food should not go and people should not gather. Maybe drag a filing cabinet into your entryway. Print out a sign on copy paper that says “Welcome Carole.” Or, “Goodbye Carole.” The message doesn’t matter. Nor does the fact that none of your coworkers are named Carole. If you want to be extra about it, you could even put on pants you have to button. Have all your coworkers assemble roughly the same setup in their homes.

When it’s time for the party, greet your coworkers on Zoom. Then, take turns piling pounds of cheese onto tiny plates. While you wait for your turn, try to impress your coworkers with your small-talk skills. Topics of common interest might include: How great the cheese cubes look; how you can’t wait to get your hands on those cheese cubes; how you hope Carole doesn’t take the last of the pepper jack cheese cubes; the strain it put on your marriage when you wanted to name your daughter Cheese Cube, but your husband wanted to name her Gertrude after his grandmother; etc. You get the idea. Make it your own!

Salon Party

Menu:

• Keurig coffee
• Bottled water
• Star mints

Decide on a look you’d like to try and buy the supplies online. Some stylists are offering video-consultations while salons are closed. See if yours is offering that service. If not, you can just buy a gift card for your salon, then order pink hair dye while drinking mango wine from a can and watching Sex Education on Netflix. (Hypothetically. This is something a completely imaginary person might do.) Either way, know that there’s no danger of having to appear for jury duty with your new look. Embrace that freedom.

When you’re ready to party, light your most herbal-smelling scented candle and tie a trash bag around your neck as a smock. If you can’t get your stylist on the phone, find someone who can help you replicate the feeling of talking to your stylist. For me, that would mean finding a stylish woman in her 20’s and trying to avoid revealing how uncool I am for an hour.

When you are finished styling your own hair, use a hand mirror to look at the back of your head. If you end up using that organic “rose gold” dye you ordered, make sure to show your “stylist” that it’s turned your hair exactly the same shade of My-So-Called-Life maroon you dyed it when you were sixteen.* Regardless of the results, to complete the ritual, you must both declare it “so cute.”

*Luckily, it turns out I am still into this look. Hypothetically.

Cocktails at Home Party

Menu:

• One overly-elaborate cocktail

You can’t have your friends over for cocktails right now, but you can replicate the stress of hosting. Here’s how:

For your next Zoom happy hour, select a complicated drink you’ve never made before. It should include at least five ingredients. Then, don’t start making it until about 5 minutes before the virtual gathering is about to start. Fifteen minutes later, when your friends text you to find out where you are, join the meeting and point the camera at the ceiling light in your kitchen. Let your friends catch up with each other as they listen to the sound of you dropping ice cubes on the floor.

If you are looking for an appropriately complicated cocktail, I’ve got your back of course. The recipe for a spring berry fizz is on the next page. The best thing about it is that it’s a drink AND a group activity. After I the first time I made one, I told my friends I would make sure to have it ready ahead of time for the next hangout. “But why?” one of them asked. “It provided us with a great 20 minutes of entertainment!”

In all sincerity, It really does hurt to not be able to do any of the above in person. I know I am very fortunate to be able to stay inside, longing for the relative luxuries of regular bang trims and sample trays. Still, the list of things that I had no idea I was taking for granted just keeps getting longer. And I miss it all. I would like to state for the record that the cheese cubes and crudites at the parties in my office are top-notch. Someday I hope to be able to wait in line for them with my coworkers again. But until then, I will continue to be inspired by the creative ways people are entertaining themselves in their homes and forging connections between them. So please, party on. And if you send me an invite, I’ll be there – 10 minutes late and with a theme-appropriate drink in my hand. Just like the old days.