Your first dinner for friends is usually late and a little burnt, and somehow still one of the best nights of the year.

What makes a night good is almost never the execution. People remember being fed, being welcome, and being somewhere that felt like yours, and by Tuesday they have forgotten the chicken took an extra hour. First attempts land well because the effort is visible and nobody is pretending to be an expert.

Invite two or three people over before you feel ready, and keep the food simple enough that you can talk while you cook. Let it run late. The version you would be proud of in five years is not the point of this week.