Upside Down Breakfast

When I was little I longed to have one of the popular theme parties that I had attended.  Alas, it was not to be, so now that I'm the boss I have given this party several times for adults or children.  In the sixties it was called a Snatch Breakfast, no longer appropriate terminology, but good for an X rated morning talk show perhaps?  

The way it worked was that only the mothers knew about the plan.  On the morning of the birthday, the party guests were yanked, yawning, from bed and hustled out to the gigantic station wagon.  The car stopped to pick up each child, all still pajama clad with crazy hair, then headed to a banquet table at IHOP where the revelry began. 

The magic here is that the children are automatically giddy from being out in public in a forbidden outfit.  After massive servings of pancakes, some with chocolate chips, all were returned to their houses in time for lunch.  

Those old station wagons would fit ten children easily.  My ex husband refers to it as the Golden Age of Risk - no seat belts, big luggage area with pop up seat facing the car behind, bench seat in front capable of holding three adults and maybe as many as three children plus driver. My friends and I used to hang out of the windows and flirt with the surfers, inhaling the ocean air like happy puppies. Many a time there would be a sudden hit on the brakes and someone would end up under the glove compartment.  Somehow most of us survived.

Dilly de Santa Barbara

The Upper East Side doesn't have an IHOP and with the hectic schedules made for children nowadays, I decided to make them breakfast in the afternoon chez nous.  Pajamas were de riguer and created a hubbub still.  I had learned my lesson and scheduled the party for an hour and a half, plus hired a clown. 

The clown had been an accident (not always creepy).  I had been walking quickly in a NYC-highly-focused way when I heard my name called.  I turned, and there was a woman I hadn't seen since I left Santa Barbara to find The World.  In California she had been a nicely dressed executive and I had thought of her as one of my more stable friends.  We lingered, chatting happily on the sidewalk and upon departure offered each other our contact information.  Sara handed me her card and under her name it said Dilly the Clown.  Whoa, that was a surprise!  I knew she had arrived in NYC only recently, and in the spirit of helping launch a friend's new career, hired her to entertain at the Breakfast Birthday.  I was so glad I did, she was great, friendly, and the children were enthralled. 

Enthrallment

Captivation

 I stationed them all in the big bedroom (pajamas after all) for the performance and set up refreshments in the living room.  This was a breeze:  Pigs in Blankets, chips, Ribena juice boxes (Pinky's favorite), Pixie Stix (my favorite, I'm always hoping no one will take them) and the birthday cake.  


It would not have been a Cynthia Vaiden Guest birthday party if I didn't do one overly tricky thing that made me crazy so I focused that disfunction on the cake.  Of course, I didn't get to it until the night before, late.  I was thinking about the execution; I may seem like I'm spaced out but my brain is actually ticking away with my various flights of fancy.  This was no different; eventually I had a plan.  I would make a cake that looked like a stack of pancakes!  For certain a clever idea, but there were many left turns before it came together.  I used plain vanilla cake mix, filled the cake pans half way so that they made six skinny layers and burned a few before I got the cook time right.  Then, I made a butter pat for the top out of a fat square of yellow tinted marzipan, and, finally, drizzled lemon glaze over the stack and between the layers, replicating the traditional dish.  It worked (3 a.m.) !  Also, the very lopsided cake looked intentional - my skills rarely match my ambition, but I'm good at visual justification.

Unquestionably Wishing For a Barbie Car

I must touch upon the adult versions.  

The first time I used this theme was when I was living in Paris.  In the winter there is no reason to be up in the day, it's too dreary.  That is probably why Paris night life has no last call.  You can party til les vaches come home.  I created the Breakfast Party for our irresponsible lifestyle - 4 p.m. on a lazy Sunday, slightly hungover.  

At the time, most of my friends were models and photographers and playboys.  It's a great combination because no one has regular hours and are usually up for anything.  One of the entertaining facts about models is that they love to be in costume as long as it's barely there, so Baby Doll pajamas made a come-back.  Once everyone said yes they really got into it!  They took the Metro in pj's and robes (models can get away with anything) and one enthusiastic friend wore bunny slippers and put her hair in curlers. 

Just like the children, everyone was giddy with the inappropriateness and the party was in full roar by the time people reached the door bell.  We made Mimosas, played charades poorly, read the Sunday papers, gossiped about the previous evening which probably ended at 7 a.m., and made more Mimosas.  It was so popular an event that an art director we knew with a huge Left Bank apartment started hosting it, and many of us would go from there to dinner, still pajama clad at 

la Coupole 

Party Time

dressed for bed (so convenient) and a little drunky.

These days I like to have the pajama party on New Year's Day.  It replicates many of the Parisien conditions - hangover, late bedtime, giddy atmosphere.  Sadly the pajamas have become less risqué.  I still serve Mimosas but have come to use prosecco instead of champagne, I put out omelets if it's just a few people, if not, scrambled eggs and sherried chicken livers, toast points, REAL Ambrosia Salad (my mother's recipe) and also for the Southerners, a bowl of black eyed peas.  If I'm lucky I can still strong-arm people into a game of charades or another big favorite, the Katastroma Dictionary Game.

I wish it were possible to find the French version of aspirin in the US, it always helped with the hangover- it included vitamin C and was festively effervescent.  An excellent party favor for reprobates.  

If you're in France with a tete de bois ask for 

 Aspirine Tamponnée Effervescente,

un vrai miracle

 p.s.

I grew up with an antique version of Ambrosia Salad and it is seriously delicious.  Peel, quarter and roughly chop oranges into a large bowl.  Add a lot of flaked coconut.  Sparingly dress with sauterne, toss, eat.  It is wonderful after a heavy meal.

Important Links

Black Eyed Peas

Sherried Chicken Livers

  
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