Dessert Party

I have been invited to a few parties since my arrival in Guernsey so I felt that it was time to reciprocate. I was going to hold a kitchen ware or card party, which are both similar in format to a Tupperware party but one of my friends suggested a dessert party; that way no-one would feel obliged to buy anything.

In the end there were thirteen guests, including myself. I know that some people would consider this very bad luck but I thought that as Mr Bee, B1, B2 and B3 were in the house this countered any chance of numeric misfortune. Mr Bee and the kids were relegated upstairs to watch episodes of the Simpsons on the portable DVD player. Mr Bee never ventured downstairs once during the course of the evening; which all things considered was probably a very sensible move.

The guests were requested not to eat any dinner, just to be on the safe side; I like dessert occasionally but I like my jeans fitting more and I didn't like my chances of that if there were huge quantities of leftovers. I provided a choice of six cocktails on arrival but by the end of the evening people were creating their own concoctions, with a varied success.

Guests were invited to bake or bring (for the culinary challenged among us) their favourite recipe. I asked that they also type out the recipe and bring about ten copies so everyone could take their favourite recipes home.

I had decided that I wanted pink roses for the dessert table. I traipsed to three different shops before I eventually found them at the flower/hedge vege stall at Vazon Bay, about a ten minute drive from home. Thank goodness; you know what it is like when you get an idea in your head about wanting something a particular way - there were going to be pink roses and that was that!

Everyone baked their own except one friend who brought an M&S Roulade and an M&S Apple Pie. She offered to stand the box up so people could copy down the ingredients off the back of the packet! Someone even congratulated her on the perfect swirl in her Roulade, but she caved in eventually told her that it was an M&S special.

A few people brought two, yes two, desserts; as if the thirteen already provided wasn't enough.

Here is a little rollcall:

Double Fudge Blondies
Lime Cheesecake (without the cheese)
Festive Rum and Pecan Pudding
Pavlova
Tiramisu Layer Cake
Double Ginger Cake
Oatmeal Cookies
Gache Melee (this is a traditional Guernsey apple dessert)
No Bake Lemon Cheesecake
Ginger Cheesecake
Banoffi Trifle
Cherry Cheesecake
Walnut Cake (a traditional Czech dessert)
Homemade Choc-Mint Ice cream
M&S Apple Pie
M&S Roulade

M&S - something chocolate that I am not sure of the name nor who actually brought it, so thankyou mystery chocolate dessert provider, who ever you are.

SEVENTEEN DESSERTS - oh I just know those jeans are never going to fit me in the morning!

We had to defend the dessert table from Tilly a few times as she thought she was quite entitled to sample a few dishes as well. She was eventually, unceremoniously shoved out the door, only to pine at the window until someone let her in. She jumped straight back on the table - at least we know how she became so rotund now - a weakness for cheesecake.

One friend had to drop some people home and pick up her husband in town but she forgot her handbag so she came back and stayed for another few hours, as did her husband. I did ask Mr Bee if he wanted to come down but the grunty response sent me scurrying back down to the kitchen where I had to reassure my swaying guests that 'NO, I did not think a horde of drunken women pulling him out of his bed at midnight was a very good idea.'

Guests were not permitted to leave without a Chinese container take-home pack or three as although most people ate two or three bowls of dessert there was A VERY LARGE AMOUNT STILL LEFT, and quite frankly there was no way that all that cheesecake was attaching itself to my thighs!

There was a little bizarre drunken dancing accompanied by some lap dancing, drinking of champagne from the bottle with a straw, falling on the floor, lots of very loud talking (Mr Bee repeated some of the conversations to me the next morning), and lots and lots of laughing.

(I know that there are only fifteen desserts on the table but the ice cream was still in the freezer and the Rum Pudding was in the oven).

The guests arrived at 7.00pm and the last guests were herded out the door at 2.00am. I had been drinking Black Russians like they were going out of style and I normally never drink coke. I probably consumed about one can of coke during the evening (they were in very small glasses and once I had put the shot of Kalhua and the shot of Vodka over the ice there was very little room left for coke - what is a girl to do I ask you?) so I was wired and wide awake when the guests left. I stayed up until 3.30am and did all the dishes, washed the table cloth, which was covered in all sorts of delicious looking stains that I am sure Tilly would love to have had a chew of, and vacuumed the floor twice as a one glass was broken during the course of the evening. This glass did not just break, it EXPLODED in a way that I have never seen before. One of my sober guests vacuumed it up at the time but I was worrying about Tilly or one of the kids cutting their feet on a stray bit so I did it twice more for good measure.

I awoke the next morning a little worse for wear but after some toast, bacon and coffee, in that order I picked up surprisingly well considering that I had drunk about three times more than I normally would; I knew that I only had to crawl up the stairs to bed, if it came to that, which is didn't. I was so glad that I had cleaned up the night before rather than leaving it to face the next day. I spent alot of the day lounging in various rooms with Mr Bee reading the paper or watching cooking shows but after less that three hours sleep (as the Bumble Bee'rs have no sympathy for hungover parents) I think I did remarkably well. Aaahhh thankyou bacon, your greasy stomach coatiness saves the day again!