It’s a Paris dinner

After being away for work, immersed in the energy and fun of an incredible salesforce event, I returned home to my husband, who had spent the past five days holding down the fort with our three boys (9, 5, and 2).

On the plane ride back from Dallas, I finished Ina Garten’s memoir, Be Ready When Luck Happens, savoring her stories of Parisian dinner parties - the kind that start at 9 pm, stretch past midnight and end with espresso and desserts.

I loved it. The unforced charm of it all. The experience, the food, the fellowship, the laughter. It made me long to create a bit of that magic here, in Fargo, North Dakota.

I grew up watching Barefoot Contessa on the Food Network, recreating Ina’s recipes, and now, I find myself deeply inspired by her life story. A woman who did things her way - trusting in her abilities, taking bold risks and forging her own path. An entrepreneur, a lifelong learner, a pilot, a best-selling author, a creative. Someone who went against the status quo, called things as she saw them, and took action, even impulsively, as she often admitted.

A woman who, as Ina put it, “loved traditional pursuits; just wanted to do them her way and make her own decisions.”

Now, back in my own kitchen, I attempt my own version of a graceful, inspired meal, Prosecco in hand. Ina’s Outrageous Brownies are in the oven. Homemade baguettes are rising on top of it. The Brussels sprouts and salmon are waiting their turn.

However, what was supposed to be a 6 pm dinner slips to 6:30… then closer to 7.

When you have little ones, timing matters. And yet, here I am - completely off schedule, watching my planned dinner unravel. Discouraged, I glance at my husband, holding our two-year-old, and sigh. “We’re going to be eating even later. I can put out a charcuterie board?”

He relays a knowing smile on his face. He's an amazing listener as I previously shared how much I appreciated Ina’s memoir and her story of being this incredible, strong woman blazing her own trail.

“It’s a Paris dinner,” he shared.

And just like that, I melt. Tears in my eyes as I realize he’s right. In the middle of chaos, three boys running around, dinner still unfinished - we pause. We hug. We laugh. It is what it is.

Yes. It is a Paris dinner.