Whether you are a domestic goddess or not, long June days and fragrant summer evenings bring out the entertainer in all of us. To prevent your best endeavours from collapsing into Come Dine With Me horror stories, Vogue's Sacha Forbes has collated tips and advice from some of our favourite hosts.
Daisy Garnett, writer and co-founder of www.a-littlebird.com, on the joys of last-minute garden gatherings
The idea of entertaining fills me with dread, but I love having friends over - which I suppose amounts to the same thing, but even just the word "entertain" seems to add a lot of pressure on to the shoulders of one or two people: the hosts. I don't like feeling pressurised or stressed at all when I'm at home, and long ago gave up trying to put dinner parties together - you know that thing where you introduce people from different parts of your life to one another. Some people are natural connectors, and thank God for that, but I'm not one of them. So it's friends, it's supper or lunch, but never a dinner party; it's generally very short notice, very relaxed and informal.
That's not to say that I don't go to any effort when people come over. I love fossicking over a table and picking flowers from the garden and I enjoy cooking, so having folk around the table is a good excuse to indulge in those pleasures. Whenever possible we eat outside, under a pergola which is covered in a vine. The table is not good - a trestle table that I picked up for £25 from a flea market - but it's the right size and it does the job. (What I really want is to commission my neighbour, a stone mason, to build a large table in situ out of Purbeck stone. I need to win the lottery first.) But it does mean a tablecloth is essential. I love tablecloths and pick them up in jumble sales, and if I ever go to Italy or Portugal or India, I search out the linen shops and the convents to see what the local nonas and nuns have been making. I always put an undercloth (an old sheet) beneath the tablecloth - it makes the cloth sit better and look heavier.
Flowers are cut blooms from the garden, whatever is available, generally in small glass jars so people can see each other over them. I was given a d'avril vase for my birthday by my mother one year, and I use it all the time. It's perfect for small garden flowers. You can get them at the Design Museum in Paris.
I wish I had an endless silver service for cutlery, but I don't, so I get good, ordinary stuff from John Lewis. I buy water glasses in Morocco - they are the right size, look great and cost 20p each. My husband gave me a set of nineteenth-century coupes from Valerie Arieta's amazing shop on Kensington Church Street, which we use every day and have broken only one. Plates are by the Irish ceramicist Stephen Pearce. Every time I go to Cork, I pick one or two up and lug them home in my hand luggage.
In terms of food, I cook whatever I fancy eating. I never do a starter unless it's asparagus season, and then it's always asparagus because I don't like eating that queen of vegetables as a side dish. In winter, I tend to do long, slow-cooked stews or a joint of meat; in summer, I veer towards grilled fish or butterflied lamb or flattened chicken cooked quickly on the grill. And always loads of veg, as well as some kind of sauce or salsa. That will be the thing that lifts the food and turns it into something of a treat, whether it be freshly grated horseradish sauce, salsa verde, romenesco, mayonnaise or beurre blanc. I don't like "dry" food. And there is always pudding, often homemade sorbet or ice cream, sometimes a fruit tart or meringue roulade, but even if I've run out of time, chocolate is passed around, served with fresh mint tea.
Picture credit: Brian Duffy
Make-up artist Charlotte Tilbury describes her hostessing rituals - perfect for those who are short on time but big on glamour and fun
Food: I'm not a domestic goddess and tend to call my local butcher to prepare a beef bourguignon or Wellington for dinner parties, or I head to Ottolenghi in Notting Hill for platters of amazing food for a relaxed vibe.
Cocktails: I always serve my signature cocktails - Raspberry Rascals and Skinny Bitches. Simple concoctions that equal summer in a glass.
Illustration by Fin Fellowes
Raspberry Rascal
- Crème de framboise/handful of crushed raspberries
- 1 measure of vodka
- Ice
- Blend and top with Champagne
Skinny Bitch
- 1 measure of vodka
- Add ice and fresh lemon juice to taste
- Top with soda water and garnish with a wedge of lemon
The guest list: My mother always told me that the key to a successful party is having a real mix. I invite my family, friends I've known for years, plus new friends - an eclectic list from all walks of life and worlds. Parties can vary from eight to 80-plus people.
Go al fresco: I love throwing open the doors to my terraced garden. It's the perfect summer-party venue as it's enclosed, intimate and private, but a suntrap. It doesn't feel like you're in London as it's so green, with a wall of lush ivy and creepers. I transition it into the evening with lanterns and large Diptyque outdoor candles in Baies and Figuier, and lots of rugs and throw cushions.
Table décor: I'll set the table with candles, bone china and a set of hand-painted, seventeenth-century Venetian glasses, as well as my favourite flowers - Black Magic roses. No fussy arrangements and no formal seating cards - I prefer to focus on music and cocktails, and keep it very relaxed and fun.
Designer Alice Temperley on her perfect picnic
Growing up on a cider farm, we were surrounded by the best locations for fun family picnics... as long as the sun was shining! We grow most of the food we eat on the farm, it tastes so much better when you know where it is from and eat seasonal produce. Fresh salads, homemade bread and lots of cheese are perfect picnic foods, all washed down with my family's Burrow Hill cider and fresh lemonade for the children. This year, I have the most amazing shawls from my latest collection, huge and cosy, which make the perfect picnic blankets!
Picture credit: Mario Testino
Yotam Ottolenghi's easy picnic tricks
You don't want to do any work once you get to your picnic so it's all about dishes that can be prepared in advance and are happy to be transported from A to B with no fridge in between. Iranian kukus - like frittatas, but often without the potatoes - are great, packed with podded broad beans, barberries and lots of dill. Salads are fine so long as you hold back the dressing until you arrive and keep any herbs picked whole rather than chopped, which would make them turn black or wilt.
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