If you’ve thrown a few drunken potlucks or impressed a date with a recipe you read in the New York Times Magazine, you may find yourself emboldened with unwarranted hosting confidence. Heck, you skim Bon Appetit in the airport and sometimes watch Good Eats stoned: your parents ain’t got nothing on you. Sure, they spent their entire lives putting great home-cooked food on the table for their family and friends, but they have never even read a blog! That arrogance may be how you end up inviting your parents to come spend Thanksgiving with YOU. A big mistake. You are in over your head, but I’ve compiled a simple guide to make your parents think you’ve got it figured out, even though your roommate breeds snakes and the novel you’re working on is just a Word doc with 45 page breaks, chapter numbers, and no sentences. (If you start it after the first of the year and write 800 words a day, you’ll be done by Labor Day. Why rush into it now?)
I’ve tried to make this easy. First, remember The Three Bs.