The Meals That Save Me When We Have Houseguests
Or: How I Feed People Well, Stay Mostly Sane, and Still Have Energy for the Laundry After Everyone Leaves
I genuinely love having people stay with us. I love seeing friends and family, lingering conversations, late nights, slow mornings. I also love, if I’m being honest, having a reason to show off my cooking, my wallpaper, and the general vibe of my house. I am human. I have a small ego. I require occasional external validation.
And yet.
Every single time, in the weeks leading up to their arrival, I start to realize that this was a terrible idea. Hosting is a lot of work. Feeding people for multiple days is a lot of work. And somehow I always forget this until I am standing in my kitchen thinking, Why do I do this to myself?
These are the meals that save me when that moment hits. They’re the ones that feel generous and impressive (and yes, occasionally earn a compliment or two), but can be made ahead so I can actually enjoy the people I invited into my home instead of quietly unraveling.
Breakfast: The Strata That Lets Me Pretend I’m Effortless
Mornings with houseguests are tricky. Everyone is hungry immediately, coffee is non-negotiable, and if we stayed up too late playing Salad Bowl the night before, no one is at their best.
This is where my vegetable strata earns its place. I make it ahead, slide it into the fridge, and in the morning all I have to do is groggily turn on the oven and wait for the house to fill with that unmistakable “someone has their life together” smell.
The best part is that it’s a formula, not a fixed recipe. I can tweak it depending on who’s staying with us, different vegetables, cheeses, herbs, just enough creativity to feel inspired without actually creating more work for myself. It feeds a crowd, looks impressive, and lets me sit down with coffee instead of short-order cooking.
Lunch: Soup, Obviously
Lunch during a houseguest stretch needs to walk a fine line. It should feel thoughtful, but not require a full production. Enter soup, my eternal answer to almost everything.
My lentil vegetable soup shows up here again because it always does. It’s steady, deeply satisfying, and quietly gets everyone through the middle of the day without drama.
But if I’m feeling like I want to earn a little extra praise (and I usually am), I’ll also make my sweet potato peanut soup. It’s rich, unexpected, and one of those soups that makes people pause mid-bite and ask, “What is in this?” Which is, frankly, very gratifying.
I serve it with really good Vermont bread and a big salad dressed with my maple balsamic vinaigrette, the kind of salad that can be bulked up with cheese, spiced nuts, or whatever else is lingering in the fridge. It feels generous and abundant, but it’s all quietly doing the work for me.
The Cheese Board: A Sleeper Pro Move
This is the moment where my instincts usually betray me. The temptation is to roll out another impressive, ego-boosting recipe, because surely one more dish will cement my status as a competent, charming hostess with excellent taste and wallpaper.
Experience has taught me that this is a rookie move.
A cheese board, it turns out, is the seasoned-host’s secret weapon. It looks generous, feels intentional, and crucially, does not push me over the edge when I’m already running on fumes. More importantly, it leaves something in the tank for what comes after everyone leaves, which is when the real work begins.
And by work, I mean the laundry.
So much laundry. Sheets. Towels. Napkins. Tablecloths that absolutely did not need to be ironed but somehow now do.
This is where I let the cheese do the heavy lifting. A wheel of Harbison from Jasper Hill, a sharp Shelburne Farms Cheddar, cheeses with enough presence and confidence to step in for me when my energy is waning. I add some crackers, maybe a little fruit, and my maple pickled onions, and suddenly dinner-adjacent has arrived.
It’s generous. It’s impressive. And most importantly, it’s the choice of someone who knows better than to blow it all out before the dust settles.
Dinner: Lasagna to the Rescue
Dinner is where I want things to feel cozy and impressive, but also hands-off. This is not the moment for anything fussy.
My Easy Make-Ahead Turkey Lasagna is the answer. I make it ahead, tuck it into the fridge, and then slide it into the oven while we’re cleaning up messes, building fires, starting another round of parlor games, and generally trying to keep everyone entertained (and ourselves sane).
On the side, I make my overnight kale Caesar, which is my secret weapon for entertaining. It can sit, it improves as it does, and it balances the richness of the lasagna perfectly. It’s the kind of salad that makes people rethink their feelings about kale, which is always satisfying.
The Lesson That Apparently Requires Repetition
Here’s the thing: I do this over and over again. I invite people to stay, I overestimate my energy, I briefly regret everything, and then I cook these meals and remember why I do it.
Yes, I like the compliments. Yes, I like showing off a little. But I also think, on some level, I need these moments to remind myself that I’m human, that feeding people, imperfectly and repeatedly, is one of the ways I feel most like myself.
And if that means relying on a short list of meals that save me every single time? I’m very okay with that.
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