<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"><channel><title>Entertaining on Sunday Evening Review</title><link>https://sundayeveningreview.com/tags/entertaining/</link><description>Recent content in Entertaining on Sunday Evening Review</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Wed, 27 May 2026 08:00:00 -0500</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://sundayeveningreview.com/tags/entertaining/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>The Cheese Board Worth Eating</title><link>https://sundayeveningreview.com/living/cheese-board-ideas/</link><pubDate>Wed, 27 May 2026 08:00:00 -0500</pubDate><guid>https://sundayeveningreview.com/living/cheese-board-ideas/</guid><description>&lt;p>Karen and David were coming at six. I had cleaned the living room, opened a bottle of red to breathe on the counter, and put Bernard in the back bedroom because he has strong opinions about guests and those opinions aren&amp;rsquo;t always diplomatic. It was four o&amp;rsquo;clock. I had cheese, a wooden board, and about forty minutes before I needed to think about anything else.&lt;/p>
&lt;p>This is the version of hospitality I&amp;rsquo;ve arrived at in my sixties: something on the counter when people walk in. Something that says the evening is already underway, that we aren&amp;rsquo;t waiting for a signal to start. The cheese board is that thing for me. Not a gallery installation. Not the photograph I&amp;rsquo;ve been seeing everywhere lately, the one with seventeen small bowls and pomegranate seeds scattered like confetti and a sprig of rosemary that nobody is going to eat. A board. Cheese. Some things alongside it. The reasonable assumption that the people coming through the door know how to pick up a cracker and put something on it.&lt;/p></description></item></channel></rss>