No Celine Dion music will be played.

Someday, in the not-too-distant future, I believe I'd like to host a Titanic-themed dinner party.

This isn't a new idea. People have been hosting this sort of affair at least since the 1997 blockbuster premiered, probably longer. While none of us would have wanted to endure the events of April 14, 1912, we nonetheless are captivated by the grace and opulence of the Edwardian period. I often think this country, and perhaps the world in general, reached a peak of civilization just before World War I blew everything to shit. It was kind of downhill from there—the federal reserve, national income tax, two world wars, a global economic depression coupled with draining social programs that still drag us down today, a holocaust, nukes, pointless anti-communism campaigns on the other side of the world, hippies, John Denver, a war on drugs, a war on terror, unaffordable health care, and a debt-based economy teetering on the edge of collapse. Who wouldn't want to return to that golden era of peace, prosperity, child labor, and cheap, plentiful, expendable Irishmen? I'd have settled for a transatlantic cruise aboard the Olympic so that I wouldn't have drowned or possibly been seated in a lifeboat with passengers from third class.

I've done a bit of research into the culinary delights offered aboard the R.M.S. Titanic, specifically in first class. I found images online of original menus that survived the sinking, which featured items few people these days have ever heard of, or would even want to try. Want some corned ox tongue for lunch? Grilled mutton kidneys & bacon? Roast squab (a.k.a. pigeon)? Don't forget the brawn!

I must take a moment to expand upon brawn. It's basically head cheese, a dish prepared by stuffing a hog's head full of mixed organ meats and other flavorings, boiling it into a stock, and letting it cool into a congealed mass ready for slicing. Yummers!

A great deal of gourmet, non-repulsive fare was offered as well. Items such as filet mignons cooked in butter, meat-stuffed summer squash, roast duckling, cold asparagus vinaigrette, and sauteed chicken Lyonnaise were consumed by bloated aristocrats in the resplendent dining saloon, served on delicate china and picked apart with fine silverware.

I have a rather elegant dining room, so creating a believable Edwardian atmosphere would not be a difficult task. Recordings of a string quartet could be played on my laptop (in another room out of sight). I'd love some potted palms, but the real ones never survive, and the fake ones cost upwards of $200 or more. If money were no object, I would purchase a full set of replica first class china, but this is also quite costly. A single dinner plate runs about $60, and when the hell would I use it afterward? I can get by with my Castleton. I've created templates for dinner menus, almost exactly as the originals appeared, which would be laid at each place at the table. Gentlemen would be encouraged to attend in white tie, but I don't have friends who would be willing or able to pay for a rental, so suits & ties may have to suffice. Should Dame Fortune endow me with Powerball winnings, perhaps the real deal could be arranged: authentic replica china, period costume rentals for all guests, caterers and serving staff in white jackets, all in a dining room decorated in the same manner as the saloon aboard the Titanic.

And, like the title of this post says, no caterwauling by that French-Canadian banshee will be heard.