My father loves inviting people over for dinner. Throughout my childhood, I remember he would often call my mother in the morning from his office desk, telling her that his friend from work will join us for dinner that night. That was easy enough for my Ami to accommodate, because we always had a Pakistani spread on our dining table at home – meat, vegetables or lentils and rice or bread – which made for fun, communal eating. A few hours later, Baba would call again at noon and tell Ami that we need to add place settings for two additional guests.Read More