Twelve years ago, when I was young, single, and living in Nashville, Tennessee, I began hosting a weekly Tuesday night dinner party. My friends knew they had a standing invite to come over around 7 p.m. for dinner. They brought the wine; I made the food. To help cover the cost of ingredients, everyone generously threw in a few dollars.
It was nothing fancy — the mere fact that it was on a weeknight meant that I had minimal time to prep the food and set the table — but it was a chance for our friends to gather around my yellow table for a simple, homemade meal and good conversation. Sometimes five friends showed up, other times there were 15. When it was a larger group, we’d set up a folding card table and chairs to provide extra seating.
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