We were visiting friends a few months ago, drinking coffee in their kitchen, catching up on all the gossip when their college-age son walked in and started rooting around in the fridge for something to eat.

The kid knows his way around the kitchen. He’s been working in restaurants for spending money since he was a teenager. He pulls out some eggs and a nice block of Gruyere and starts making himself an omelet.

His mother looks at him and says, “What do you think you’re doing? That’s the eating cheese.”

We all knew what she meant, of course. That cheese was for company. It was for us, or people like us who parachute in every year or so, stay for a few days, and leave. He was just family – the pre-wrapped, processed cheese slices were plenty good enough for him.

I knew how he felt. Sue just got back from buying groceries for our dinner guests tonight. She bought all sorts of goodies – goodies that she would never buy just for me. Are you an absolute stranger? Here, try the pate. It’s imported. Don’t know us from Adam? Have another jumbo shrimp. Take this filet mignon home with you when you go, we’re just going to throw it out if you don’t take it. I hope you like creme brulee, Sue made a lot of it.