Best Dishes To You This Holiday Season

“Do you want to come to dinner with me tonight?”

Michelle sighed theatrically from her nest on the couch. The family's old Maine Coon asleep in her lap, a mug of marshmallow-filled hot chocolate for breakfast, the old Grinch cartoon on cable – this was the perfect way to spend her winter break. Was a mere meal truly worth getting out of her fuzzy slippers for?

Her mom grinned. “You know the board goes over the top on holidays. Remember the last dinner party you came to, a couple Easters ago? This is at the same swanky hotel. The food is going to be ah-may-zing.”

Her stomach easily convinced, Michelle returned the smile. She raised the mug in a salute. “You do know how to reach me, Mom.”

*

Having spent the last few years in ramen-stained sweatpants – university is stressful enough without worrying about fashion – Michelle felt quite on display in her cocktail dress with the plunging neckline. In a good way, like a shiny car in a showroom. Not like toilet paper on special at the supermarket. The forest green fabric complimented her porcelain skin, and the amount of leg showing was just under the distasteful mark. She had even curled her hair for the occasion.

“You look gorgeous, hon!” her mom wisped into the living room, a vision herself in a classy burgundy gown and diamond drop earrings. Her perfume was warm and sweet.

“You look hot, Mom!” Michelle tried a wolf-whistle, failed, and wiped saliva off her chin.

Her mom laughed. “Thank you. Now, which one should I bring?” She held up two purses, one black and sequined, the other red and boasting a peacock in complementary hues.

“Take the red one, it's cute.”

“Sure. Do you want to take the other one?”

“Sure! Thanks, Ma,” Michelle slung it over her shoulder, briefly wondering if she should tuck a plastic sandwich bag inside, for sneaking leftovers later.

*

The Obsidian Palace Hotel was an attractive building during the rest of the year, and positively stunning during the Christmas season.

The women were treated to fresh pine wreaths and garland on every hangable surface; fairy lights, real pine cones, and sparkling baubles filled the nooks. To reach the banquet room, they had to make a detour around a 20-foot tall tree in the middle of the foyer, loaded with more twinkling lights and glittering glass ornaments. The tree itself sat in a sea of white- and red-wrapped gift boxes.

The décor carried into the the banquet room, where a string band cranked out great classical tunes in the centre of the lavish room. Most importantly, it had a tantalizing-smelling buffet table along the windowed outer wall, nearly forty feet worth of hot dishes being offered, complete with a man in a chef's hat to slice roasts for the hungry partygoers. Michelle decided that getting off the couch was a fine idea.

“Can I offer you some champagne?” a handsome young waiter, a serving tray brimming with flutes impressively balanced on one hand, appeared between them. He smiled, and his eyes lingered on Michelle's.

They thanked him, each taking a glass. Michelle could feel her mom's giddiness when he continued to hold Michelle's gaze until he turned to the next guests, never teetering.

She appreciated how snappy – oh, no, snappy? Home for only a week and already Mom's retro vocabulary was rubbing off on her! - he looked in a tuxedo, and wondered why more men her age didn't bother with dressing up so fine (a much more age-appropriate adjective). University dudes, for dudes they were, left something to be desired. Michelle ignored her extremely hypocritical thought process, as if her own unofficial school uniform weren't leggings and an oversized sweatshirt.

The women cheerfully made their rounds to her mom's co-workers, wishing them all a Merry Christmas, gushing with excitement about children and grandchildren opening their packages the next morning, and admiring how festively beautiful the hotel looked.

When her mom slipped into shop talk, Michelle excused herself and politely wound through the crowd until she was where she wanted to be – the food. All those friendly waiters and waitresses with their trays of teeny appetizers, they were not enough to satisfy her. She needed more than one delicious mini-mouthful at a time.

Stuffing one dumpling in her purse for every two that went in her mouth, Michelle was gorging distractedly and happily, when a voice sounded in her ear.

“What's on the menu?”

Startled, the dumpling tried to go down her throat before she could finish chewing. She choked, covered her mouth with her fist and coughed, and looked up at the horrified – yet still handsome – waiter who had greeted her with the bubbly.

“I'm so sorry! Can I get you some water?” Obviously rhetorical, he rushed over to the crystal jugs of citrus water, filled a glass, and hurried it to her with a couple napkins. He managed to remain graceful the entire frantic moment. “Gosh, I am sorry.”

She forced some water down, dabbed at her mouth with the napkin, took a breath. Now that death wasn't imminent, she smiled and placed the empty glass and crumpled napkins beside the fancy mustard. “Hi, Sorry, I'm Michelle.” She held out a hand. A gaudy light-up Santa hat ring adorned her middle finger.

The waiter's face relaxed into that same easy smile from earlier. He shook her hand. “I'm Nate. I'm on my break and really wanted to say a proper hello since you walked in. I, uh, was going to ask...”

Maintaining eye contact, she slid a hand over her purse, to ensure the top hadn't snapped open, bursting with treats as it was.

Nate delicately wiped a smudge of sauce off her chin. He motioned to the section of sweets laid out behind him; a veritable assortment of cakes, cookies, pies, and pastries. ““Would you join me for dessert?”

Inside her high-heeled shoes, her painted toes wiggled. This was indeed worth getting out of her slippers for.