Dinner at a distance

Weighing the guidelines when hosting friends to a BBQ during the pandemic

- JAMIE HOWELL

I’m a hugger. Or at least I was before the virus hit.

I close in on our dinner guests as they come around outside to the backyard, eager to demonstrate my happiness at seeing them, at seeing anyone in person.

Up come the protective elbows. Ah, right! We’re in a PANDEMIC, you clod!

Somehow, I’ve managed to forget the rules in that tiny slice of day between the last news story I encountered and their arrival.

Sheepishly, I bump elbows.

Such a lucky joint, I think, this elbow of ours, somehow able to rise above all the science and contagion. Internally, I recommit to the idea that there will be no more touching of anybody for the rest of the evening.

We are flirting with disaster as it is, having people over for dinner. But, frankly, for me it’s now risen to the level of essential.

Back when it all started, half a year ago, I actually found the sudden disappearance of social obligations a relief, a chance for my anti-social side to breathe a little as we sheltered in place. But like a sad baby lab chimp relegated to extracting love from a wire-frame mama, I need something more now. And dinner is the way to do it.

See, if I’m cooking for you, it means you’re important to me. I realize it can be construed as a shortcoming that I’m more comfortable coating a filet mignon in cracked peppercorns and gorgonzola butter than telling you I love you, but at least it’s tasty.