I’m hosting a poster-making party on the night before the Women’s March on Washington. All over world, in 370 cities, women are on the march to protest Donald Trump’s election. (You can find your nearest march here.) Oh, I do so hope that all those women will add up to millions, taking to the streets to demonstrate how deeply offensive his presidency is.
I cannot wait to gather with fabulous women to celebrate, but what to serve on the eve of revolution?
The drinks are easy. In honour of Bette Davis’ zinger in All About Eve, Gibson Martinis are on the menu, potent and frosty and made with domestic gin because they’re meant to burn.
Bumpy night. Bumpy four years….
Dessert is sorted, too.
Can I bake four and twenty Trump Tweets into a pie?
I’m struggling with the other menu choices, though. Do I serve foods to capture a mood, and if so, which mood? Smash-the-patriarchy angry? Celebrate-sisterhood festive? Both? Should I temper Toad-in-the Hole and a salad of The Bitter Greens of Electoral Discontent with a soothing mash of sweet potato?
Should it be a meal to honour great American women, like this Thanksgiving feast from Bust Magazine that included Gloria Stein Ham and Rutabaga Ginsberg?
We won’t be taking this meal sitting down, so finger food is probably the best. Teeny tiny finger food.
Whatever I make, it will be served with love and consumed to fire up our feminist passion. Like the athletes in this house who carb load before big games, we will load up on love and laughter on the eve of the march, because our anger comes from a desire to protect the things we love, and love trumps hate.