I LOVE feeding people.  It’s probably one of my favorite things to do, second only to feeding myself (and my dog, who’ll do just about anything for a nibble — twirls, high-fives, laundry…).

Last night we had an unexpected dinner party.  I suppose I should clarify:  last night we had one extra human eating at our house.  But a guest is a guest, all the same, and we don’t do anything halfway at the Schaker’s — especially when it comes to entertaining.  More importantly: we don’t allow guests to leave our home without being well-fed.

Feeding one extra human is often times as tough, if not tougher, than feeding a giant batch of humans (people seem to have lower standards for group foods and may be less likely to be disappointed.  Or at a minimum, more likely to keep criticisms to themselves).  You really have to shine to feed just one extra.

Okay, okay…who am I kidding — this guy would eat anything and love it.  But I like to think the pressure’s on.  I like to THINK I’m obligated to throw together a last minute dinner that will, indeed, shine.  #eternalocdfatty

At any rate, I popped into PCC on my way home from work without even the slightest idea of what I was going to make (I even lingered around the deli counter, contemplating an easy way out).  I knew steaks were on the menu for the meat eaters.  Easy.  But 1) what was I going to eat?, and 2) what was I going to serve with that juicy pound of beating cow?  (gross)

Well, duh!  Zucchini pesto salad!  (not only have I been on a zucchini binge, but August 8 was National Zucchini Day — how appropriate)

So I grabbed some fool proof “pasta” salad ingredients, a loaf of fresh bread, and a couple of fresh brews.

Fool proof ingredients:

cherry tomatoes + broccoli + black olives

I mixed all those goodies with spiralized zucchini and my to-die-for white girl pesto (fresh out the garden, yo! — recipe to come).

That was that.  Maybe twenty minutes of kitchen time (excluding grill time, which was minimal, but should be noted).

And another wonderful night in the books.