A few months ago I had dinner with a French friend and he showed me something really cool — his mother’s dinner party notebooks. For years — decades, even — ever since she was a young bride, his maman has kept a record of every dinner party she’s ever thrown: guest list, menu, recipes. As a result, she knows exactly what she’s served to whom — which means she never serves her friends the same thing twice. It’s madly meticulous. It’s wildly painstaking. It’s marvelous.
Of course, once I saw it I had to start one, too. In my kitchen notebook, I keep track of guest lists, menus, and seating charts; sometimes I even draw little pictures of the food. Is this hopelessly geeky? I fear you’ll never think of me in the same way again.