J'adore Downton: Downton Dinner Gala

So I've done it guys. I've slipped into the dark side and I fear there is no return. But that hardly matters with this being the last season of Downton, right? Let me begin by saying I have always taken the shoddy deal I've been dealt by these Brits in having to wait until January to enjoy the wonder that is this period drama, though admittedly I have never accepted this without vehement protest. However I was faced with the damning temptation from my family members when they confronted me and coerced me into indulging in the series airing early. Now I must admit that I am an impressionable young lady and highly suggestible to overpowering influence, like that incident at the river with my relatives..."jump off the bridge!" they said, "there are no rocks!" they said. Anyways, the selling point that tipped the scales was of course the irresistible notion of watching the actual Christmas special on Christmas Day. How could I turn that down? I couldn't, I simply couldn't. Of course, in this digital age there are many means of obtaining early airings, all of which unethical, so for the intents and purposes of this blog, I will simply state that I have temporarily relocated to West Sussex and am currently enjoying an extended vacation until the final episode airs, and I will return stateside on Boxing Day. Someone please feed the dogs, I may have forgotten to make arrangements with the servants.

Though I have never gone all out for DA before, given that it is the final season, it had already been planned that there would be a dinner party for the Downton premiere. But with this sudden affrontal from my brother and sister-in-law, the dinner party had to be expedited, and I only had 3 weeks to plan and prepare for it. I designed the invitations and sent them properly addressed. The invitations took me about 2 days, but the meal was going to be the more challenging task. It is widely known throughout the land that I am the Queen of Microwaves, I am certainly no Mrs. Patmore (though I had a similar incident to hers with a blender and cursed technology as a whole). With the help of my mother, we

planned the menu and I set to work on gathering the ingredients and making trial dishes, if only to ensure I killed no one. The first trial dishes left something to be desired, but I was sure a few adjustments here and there would make a world of difference. And mom was enlisted to make the more complicated entrees so I bore no responsibility there. I was, of course, far better at the planning and acquisition of decor, and couldn't wait to set the table in all its grandeur, albeit most likely not historically accurate, but nothing could be done. Sorry Alastair.

One thing we hadn't planned on was the torturous heat that would befall us on this day: a blistering 105F...I mean 40.5C, which is completely atypical for Califor- er, West Sussex in September, so I'm told. But I am a bitch of a hostess and not only was there no time to swap out the hot soup or hot chicken on the menu, I also insisted that my guests adhere to the dress code and arrive in their formal attire, sweat stains and all. So with the air conditioning battling it out with the oven (and losing), we sat in a whirlwind of electric fans in a feeble attempt for some relief. Sadly, it wasn't until after all was said and done, eaten and washed, that I realized I hadn't taken any pictures of the food. In my defense, however, I was trying to play hostess and I was chasing a crazy one year old around the apartment, taking thousands of photos, trying to snap one that was in focus of her and her gorgeous little dress.

Following the meal, we posed for one photo in all our splendor, and then my mother ~~ran~~ retreated to change her clothes, and my niece squealed in joy as her smoldering dress was peeled off of her. As the Nature Baby ran around in her bare, diapered glory, I watched in sweltering jealousy, having to acknowledge that I am many years past being able to pull off such naked freedom myself.

Clearly my sister-in-law won for more appropriate period costume

We convened around the TV and were re-immersed into the roaring 20s once more with our favorite English family and their trusty servants, returning yet again to the roller coaster that is their day to day lives. Even my niece settled down at one point and became mesmerized by all the fascinating colors and pretty faces on the screen (though she mostly spent the show performing acrobatics on the couch and begging the dogs to give her kisses). The Wife had noted in an earlier interview that she hoped Downton could be passed down the generational line to our children and so forth, so we planted the seed and will continue to brainwash the child to the best of our abilities; I mean she's too young for Game of Thrones anyways, that will have to wait until she's five. On a side note, I got some awesome news which only made my night more amazing that is completely unrelated to Downton but I cannot divulge yet!

So I promise an episode review here soon, and it goes without saying that there will be spoilers, so any non-UK fans who want to stay in the dark, I would advise you to steer clear of those blogs, because I can't contain myself until January.