Dinner is served or maybe not?

Being a hostess in today’s world is no longer about flowers on the table, good lighting, and a cheerful smile. No, my dear, it is an obstacle course of diets, food restrictions, liquid philosophies, and fasting regimens. By the time the first plate is served, one needs not a cook but a United Nations negotiator.

Take for instance, my last dinner. The guest list was simple—six friends. But, their stomachs? Oh, a veritable battleground of “dietary choices”.

First, there’s Miss Gluten-Free. Bread? No. Roti? God forbid. Pasta? Only if it’s made from quinoa, sorghum, or perhaps moon dust. I stood in my kitchen googling “fibre rich carbs that won’t kill a gluten-free soul” as though I were studying for medical exams.

Then enters the Vegan Brigade. No milk, no cheese, no ghee, no honey (the poor bees!). My grandmother would faint at the thought of halwa without ghee, but here I was, attempting almond-milk kheer, which tasted like a punishment for some crime I cannot recall committing.

Of course, I had the Keto Crusaders. These are the knights who fight carbs with a sword sharper than Excalibur. “Fats and protein only, please”. So, while one guest nibbled tofu cubes, the Keto squad devoured kebabs like hunters in prehistoric times.

Ah, but the pièce de résistance was the gentleman on the “Fast Feasting Diet”. Entire day liquids only. Vegetable juice here, smoothie there, and a suspiciously green concoction he carried in a flask, lest I slip him something solid. Watching him sip cucumber-celery juice while others fought over paneer—was inspiring, or maybe just confusing.

And then, my salvation were the normal eaters. Those blessed souls who said, “Arre, make dal, chawal, sabzi, roti—whatever you eat daily.” The joy in my heart was short-lived, however, when the Drinks Committee convened. No fizzy sodas, please. Wine, but low-calorie only. Water? Not from the tap, not from the filter—could I manage black water? By now, I was literally ready to offer water from the River Ganga. But that one too…!

Desserts? Ha! A battlefield of its own. No sugar, no cream, no chocolate. Fruits, maybe, but someone said only before 1 p.m. My invitation was for dinner. Brownie without sugar? Cake without cream? Fruit salad without fruit? I wondered if serving empty bowls would be the safest choice.

Then came the real kicker—two guests on Intermittent Fasting and one on a proud 72-hour fast. Why did they accept my invite? Ah yes, “for the company”. I considered serving them air or crushed ice in crystal glasses, garnished with mint.

By the time food was warmed thrice, mind you, to cater to different dinner timings from 7 p.m. for some, 9 p.m. for others, the conversation had devolved into an Olympic-level contest. Who was the slimmest? Who was the healthiest? Who had the best hack for tricking your taste buds? Creativity, politics, art, poetry, all forgotten. Calories, carbs and Keto—words flew, right, left and centre.

As I collapsed after the most tedious party I had ever hosted, my maid shook her head. “We eat whatever little we get, yet we’re stronger. You all have everything and still complain.”

So true, na...! Next time, I’m serving air. Zero calories, universal diet-friendly, and oh-so-easy to prepare.