Messy Hospitality
A place to begin
A couple weeks ago I invited a group of college students and recent graduates over for pizza and Sunday night football. The idea was personal-sized, homemade pizzas that we would make to order while we gathered around our kitchen counter, talking and laughing. In reality, it was a busy day, and I forgot to take the dough out of the freezer to thaw. An hour before they came, I thought about pulling the plug. What was I going to do? How was I going to feed thirteen people fast?
At the last minute I ran to Walmart, grabbed an armful of frozen pizzas and some bags of mini candy bars, and the show went on. I still had all the fancy toppings for the homemade pizzas, so we doctored up the frozen ones, slicing gouda and adding crumbled bacon, red peppers, and jalapeños. The pizzas were fine. The company was spectacular. We did talk and laugh, and most stayed for hours, lounging on the couch and telling stories while we watched playoff football.
Confession: hospitality can be hard for me.
Not because I don’t like people and don’t want to spend time with them, but because I sometimes buy the lie that my gatherings should be Instagram-perfect. Pasta from scratch or a stunning butter board with a food-grade wick and rosemary infused butter. Linen napkins and the glow of candles, jazz music playing softly in the background. Or, at the very least, a clean house.
The truth is, our home is kind of small. Pack a bunch of people in here and it feels cramped real quick. We have two very sweet but enthusiastic dogs (one attention-loving old man and one puppy who has to be the center of attention), and they will compete for your love—whether you consider yourself a dog person or not. And I’m a decent cook, but nothing special. I don’t have a fancy French go-to dish that I can whip up with my eyes closed (but I do make a rather delicious steak chili).
In short, a visit to our home is going to be pretty basic. You’ll get food (hopefully it’s good), a snuggle companion if you want (and probably even if you don’t), and conversation that will span everything from celebrity crushes to theology. We’re a mixed bag.
Last week I wrote about loneliness, a topic that really seemed to resonate with people. We are lonely. It’s pervasive and potentially debilitating, something we all seem to experience to one degree or another. And let’s face it: we are, as a whole, becoming more independent, individualistic, and isolated from each other. We pick sides on any given issue and then rally the troops, vilifying our “enemies” until we can comfortably consider them subhuman. We live on our devices, fostering friendships through screens instead of in real life. And we value personal freedom above all else, eschewing the one thing that has kept us connected and moving forward since time immemorial: community.
We belong to each other, and whether or not we want to admit it, our actions have a ripple effect. What I do affects you. How you live impacts me—and the rest of the world.
Differences in belief systems, backgrounds, and lifestyles aside, we live and breathe and move in this world as brothers and sisters, as family. And maybe, one of the best ways to remind ourselves of that—to reconnect and find our place in our neighborhoods and beyond—is to practice hospitality.
I’m convinced that our less than pristine homes, mediocre cooking skills, and sometimes awkward conversations are the best, most honest and impactful things we can offer our neighbors. Yes, we’re messy and far from perfect, but so is life. So are the people we welcome into our backyards and living rooms and cramped kitchens. Why would we pretend anything else?
I recently read an advice column where the person seeking counsel explained: “We were invited to dinner at a friend’s house and she told me to bring dessert.” The advice was very clear: “It’s rude to ask a guest to bring food.” She suggested either telling the host that it wouldn’t work to bring dessert or declining the offer altogether. While I appreciate the historical rules of engagement when it comes to hospitality, I’d like to suggest that we live in a very different world than we did even twenty years ago. No need to rewind to the ideologies of the 1950s and 60s, the world is wholly changed from the early 2000s. And maybe part of adapting to this brave new reality is throwing out all the rules.
Forget the window washing and baseboard scrubbing, the menu planning and playlist curating. Stop trying to do it all yourself. Gather people and gather food, however you can and whenever it works. We can live siloed and alone or we can adapt. I encourage you to change your community and yourself by embracing the mess in all of it.
Some practical ideas for messy hospitality:
Don’t have time for a meal? Have ice cream sundaes. You provide the ice cream, ask guests to bring the toppings. Who cares if you end up with three jars of hot fudge?
Need to get out of the house? Have a park date. Invite friends to meet you at the park with whatever they want to eat. Some may pack a picnic, others might grab takeout. Whatever. The kids are playing and you can catch up.
A backyard bonfire is a great excuse to gather. Invite your neighbors to walk over with a beverage of their choice and you’ll have everything for s’mores on hand. (Don’t forget the peanut butter cups for the best s’mores of your life!)
Conversation feeling stilted? There is no shame in using cards or a website to help. A quick “conversation starters” internet search will turn up a treasure trove of questions that range from hilarious to unexpectedly deep.
Remember progressive meals? Simplify things by having one in your home. Assign each guest to bring a part of the meal (appetizer, side, dessert, etc.) and see what happens.
Walk over with a plate of cookies (or a package of Oreos) the next time you see your neighbors outside. A fifteen-minute interaction (“Hey! How’s it going? Have a cookie.”) is a great place to start.
Invite people to do things with you. Go to a basketball game together or attend an event at your local library. Sometimes an invitation is all it takes to get people out of the house and into the community.
Host a grill night. Tell your neighbors: “Grill’s on. Bring your own meat and a side to share.” Linger as long as you’d like.
Got any to add? Leave your ideas in the comments, friends! I’d love to hear how you practice hospitality—messy or otherwise.
Thanks for reading. xoxo - Nicole
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The person asking for advice was clearly not from Iowa. Everyone here knows that, when asked to dinner, the immediate response should be “What can I bring?” One of our messy food ideas is make your own pizza night. We buy individual flatbreads (packages available at the grocery store and no need to thaw!) and precook every conceivable topping and then each person makes their own pizza.
I love and am all for what you said, “maybe part of adapting to this brave new reality is throwing out all the rules.”
Let's redefine home hospitality by setting a new 'standard'—one where the only expectation is to be heartfelt and genuine.
Authenticity over perfection every time. Thank you for this reminder.