I Hosted a Birthday Crossover Party, This Is How It Went

Ever wondered what happens when you throw friends from different groups together at a birthday bash? It feels like a crossover episode of an anime.

Sep 25, 2023

Halo and happy Monday!

Today’s newsletter is a story about a private dining that I hosted last week to celebrate my birthday with all of my friends combined. It’s not actually my birthday. My birthday is in April. But we don’t talk about that.

Anyway, here’s a gist about what happened:

👯‍♀️ I invited friends from different groups because life is too short to not combine your friends.

🍝 I served a five-course lunch of Italian-inspired dishes with an Indonesian twist (no apology video).

💥 It was a blast. Everyone shared so many life stories, gossiped about our mutual friends, and of course, ate good food that I cooked.

I’m the one wearing the blue shirt in the front row. In case you’re wondering.

The idea of throwing a birthday party with friends from different groups altogether sounds very comical to me. It’s as if there’s someone up there narrating me, telling me that I should combine tens of my friends to come to my place just to celebrate… me. Wild. Sounds fun, but wild. What if I accidentally said the wrong joke in front of the wrong group? OK, maybe that’s not the worst that could happen. But what if they just don’t get along?

I mean yeah, I used to do it before. When I was five.

It used to be a thing back then in Jakarta, and I’m sure in other cities in Indonesia for kids to have their birthdays at KFC. I remember my parents invited my kindergarten friends, extended family, and even my neighbors to my 5th birthday bash. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t awkward because (1) most of the kids who came to the party were around my age, so making friends with strangers was not scary at all and was built on sharing toys and food, and (2) I had an MC to keep the event going. But imagine doing it in your mid-twenties. (Spoiler: I did it).

I stole this idea from a friend from high school who invited me to his house party (hopa) two years ago. I was excited because it’s been a while since I’d been to a hopa - my favorite kind of party because it’s barely a party. I like it because it always looked more like a social gathering slash friend reunion than a party. We’d all bring food, chat, and listen to our Spotify group session until it’s literally dawn. But a few days before his party, I got a WhatsApp text from him saying that the party was going to be a mashup event of not one, but at least three of his friend groups.

“Hey just a heads up, my uni friends and other friends will be there too this weekend. If you don’t mind?” he texted. Of course, the question was rhetorical. It’s more of a notification, a signal for me to prepare myself so that I don’t freak out seeing faces I have never seen before. Saying I do mind would not change a thing because well, it’s his party.

The truth is, I don’t really mind. I’m anxious though. I’m an introvert, and I knew my social battery would be drained after the first 30 minutes of small talk - which it did.

Luckily it wasn’t as awkward as I’d imagined. Sure, there were moments when I just sat there in silence, watching other people scroll their Instagram feeds, closing and reopening the app again for the third time in the last 10 minutes. But by the end, I was genuinely happy. I ate, I exchanged stories, and I gained so many new friends (by so many I mean it’s three). So this year, I decided to put all my best friends through the same situation.

I hosted a private dining for eight friends from three different friend groups to celebrate my birthday. It felt unreal, and almost like a crossover episode of an anime.

It wasn’t really my birthday. My actual birthday is in April, but if you’re also a fire sign like me, you’ll know how many things you can get away with just by saying it loud enough. If I say that my birthday is in September, then it is.

You may also be wondering, ‘How the hell do these eight friends come from three different friend groups?’ - so please, allow me to give you a crash course on my friends:

The first two are my elementary school friends. They’re the ones who’ve known me the longest (more than 15 years!), and we usually bonded over the weekend to hop around the city to try new cafes, restaurants, and places worth visiting.
The next two friends are from a youth organization I’m a part of. They don’t know each other because it’s a huge organization and within that, I have multiple friend groups.
Lastly, four are my high school friends. We used to be in a giant friend group of ten to twelve people depending on where we were hanging out that day, but just like any other big groups, we naturally formed our own subgroups.
And plot twist: One high school friend also went to the same elementary school as one from the youth organization. They finally met again today after more than ten years.

The concept was Italian lunch, but make it unapologetically Indonesian.

Coming up with the meal’s concept was an easy one. Since I just come back from a three-week trip to northern Italy, I thought to myself that this would also be a great chance for me to tell stories from my trip. From the places I visited, the food I ate, and the people I became friends with. I settled on making a five-course lunch inspired by all the stereotypical Italian dishes that one can think of - a few that I actually ate during my trip and others that I wished I got the chance to try. But here’s the catch: I mashed, switched things, and remixed the hell out of everything to make it unapologetically Indonesian.

At 12:50, I started to do some final touches to set the mood and get the first round of meals ready to be served.

I took the panzanella (a bread salad to which I added some local kale, lettuce, and cherry tomatoes) out of the fridge while some of my friends who arrived early helped me out with placing down water bottles and sets of tuberose flowers in vases. By the time I finished plating the salads, almost all of my friends were there and seated, a sign for me to start serving them.

I served the salad as I began welcoming all of my friends - thanking them for showing up, giving a quick run-through of the meal plan, and eventually allowing them to dig in. Instantly, conversations started right away as we began talking about the salad and how it was a staple food throughout my trip. Everyone was so keen on listening, nodding their heads while also scooping spoonfuls of greens into their mouth (yes, we eat a salad with a fork and spoon in Indonesia). I smiled, excited with the sight that everyone was so invested in my story, causing me to ramble at 1.5x talking speed - turning it into a TED Talk about my Italy trip.

Soon after everyone is finished with their salad, I head out to my kitchen bench, not only to set the second course in motion but to also force them to find other topics to talk about. Don’t get the wrong idea. I still love talking about myself. Everyone does. But with eight people, some of whom don’t know each other, they better be talking about themselves too and not just listen to me for the next hours.

Trigger warning: Abomination to pesto pasta.

The second course was something that I’m particularly, very excited to present. Aside from the fact that I just Indonesianize a well-respected Italian dish (no apology video), it also tastes so fucking good.

There are so many things that are wrong with this pesto pasta - at least if you talked to an angry Italian. Like using local kemangi leaves instead of basil for the pesto, replacing pine nuts with cashews because they didn’t grow in Indonesia and are hella expensive, and serving it with truffle-flavored potato chips. Trust me, it still gives the pungent truffle aroma that you’d find in a typical pasta dish, but with added texture. What could go wrong aside from being bashed by the Italian community?

The pasta might not be Italian, everyone knows that. But it gives me relief hearing me and my friends agreeing that this Indonesian-tasting and looking pesto pasta, makes so much sense. It tasted so familiar and homey that it led to discussions on other Indonesian food habits that we can all relate to; like how kerupuk, a cracker usually made of flour, garlic, or prawn is a mandatory part of Indonesian dishes - making the potato chips addition very understandable.

At this point, I was done with plating the pasta, finding my way back to the dining table when I realized that leaving all my friends alone together was the right move.

“So, how do you all know Fabi from?” said a friend of mine trying to break the ice. “I know you went to the same high school as him. What about you?” he continued as he pointed to the person right in front of him. In the end, everyone took turns introducing themselves and sharing about how they first knew me, which made me giggle when I heard this because it felt very formal. Too formal for a lunchtime conversation. But if it gets the ball moving, then why not?

I eventually reached the table, and by the time I served the pasta, almost everyone had shared all the basic information that one could give to a stranger in thirty seconds. It’s as if they had FAQ cards ready, filled with facts about where they lived, their jobs, and hidden talent (they kept it hidden though). Interestingly, one particular topic really gets everyone going. Whenever someone mentioned the school they went to, it quickly turned into a competition to see who knew the most people from that school. It was a hot contest with one clear winner. You know who you are.

The afternoon then continued with a round of palate cleanser and dessert, which were all ready to serve as I prepared them the night before. The palate cleanser was a passionfruit and cucumber granita - a mix of passionfruit puree, cucumber water, and sugar that are frozen and scraped with a fork right before serving. It’s almost like shaved ice but with bigger, ununiformed, rather rustic ice crystals. It was sweet and tangy and tasted a bit green. A perfect cleanser except for one friend who insisted that I should’ve added Bacardi or soju to it - which I agree with. I regret not adding them.

The dessert was panna cotta - a more comfortable option compared to the outrageous and adventurous past meals, served with brownie crumble and local strawberry compote. The only thing that I do differently is by veganizing it. I replaced the dairy milk and cream with oat and coconut milk, then used agar-agar instead as I omitted the gelatine.

Left: Passionfruit and cucumber granita. Right: Coconut and oat milk panna cotta.

By now, everyone is practically friends and they ended up sharing and finishing everything. The extra granita in the aluminum tray was gone the moment I announced that they could go for seconds and the remaining drops of strawberry compote were passed around in the circle as everyone was fighting for it.

It’s funny to think that just 40 minutes ago, they were all complete strangers to each other, and by the time they’re now having iced coffees, they have shared so many life stories, gossip about their mutual friends, and probably also saliva from the way they just went for the last drop of melted granita.

I realized that hosting this private dining isn’t merely about celebrating my birthday and sharing food.

Sure, the food still plays an important role here. It gives reason for people to come together, sparking conversation, and creating bonds. But a food is a food. What makes it special is that I’m actually celebrating the people who’ve supported me over these years, and introducing them to others who are also been there for me too is the cherry on top. It's like saying, “Thanks for always being there. Now, meet my other friend who's also been there”. It’s about finding common ground - be it in our love for food, mutual friends, or just me. I honestly couldn’t have asked for a better way to celebrate my birthday. Or a better support system.

In Indonesia, there’s a saying: ‘Makan nggak makan asal ngumpul’, which means to come together even if not everyone eats. While most Indonesians can relate to this, it goes the opposite way in my particular case. Because today, everyone bonded over food.