Porch. Party. The two are inseparable. Always have been. Always will be. A porch without a party is just a background scene on Frasier, and a party without a porch isn't worth going to. Even at my friend Cherry Kugle's annual "Driveway Party" in Austin, Texas, half the guests eventually wind up on the front porch; the other half started there and never budged.

People come and go through a porch (unless it's a 32nd-floor balcony, which qualifies as a vestigial porch, although it is important never to treat such a balcony in the way described in the first part of this sentence). Along with the kitchen, a porch is the one place at a party you can find a way to belong whether you know everybody or nobody. But a porch is better because it lacks appliances or dishware to knock over accidentally.

The other thing about porches is they're the perfect open-air cafes -- but better than that, because on porches there are no bad tables; no aspiring actor-waiters to ignore your requests; and, of course, no inflated bill with dessert. What there are: railings, comfy chairs, posts to lean against, and views to behold. In these surroundings, almost any kind of food tastes wonderful. But seize the occasion! Make the repast past comparison, and you'll be a host to whom even a demanding home-entertaining doyenne whose name almost rhymes with Arthur will have to give kudos.

Oh -- and stand by for a breakthrough if you're a little too mature these days to raise your focaccia in the air at the buffet table and exclaim, "Party On!" A good porch soiree is guaranteed to get your inner child acting out.