It isn’t always a big-budget affair. Last November, at Arch, an exhibition space in Athens, she cooked a pot of beans for three days straight, letting art lovers grab a bowl. Whoever the client and whatever the context, her directive is always the same: Have a bite. It will probably prompt you to strike up a conversation—or at least have a giggle—with someone else at the party.
She inherited a knack for hosting from her parents. Her father, a prominent Egyptian journalist, and mother often threw dinner parties that mixed local intellectuals: reporters, writers, politicians, and expats. “The house was really the beating heart of our lives,” says Gohar, who, for a time, wanted to be a diplomat. While she didn’t end up going into politics, her own gatherings feel like social statecraft. You might meet an artist you’ve long admired or a future creative collaborator. Even during COVID lockdown, when events ground to a halt, Gohar inspired her loyal global following to cook beans and other tried-and-true dishes. One involved boiling chickpeas and de-shelling them individually by hand. She eschews shortcuts, professing “I’m allergic to convenience,” calling it an excuse to avoid “excitement and quality and beauty and all the things I like.”
Recently, while Mattos was out of town, Gohar threw an impromptu 30-person birthday party for a friend. The timing wasn’t ideal. Nevertheless, she roasted four chickens and found a spot for every guest. “I like when everyone sits during dinner,” she says. “There’s a ceremonial aspect to it.” Preconceived notions about formality blur in this household where the mantra is clear: “Nice things shouldn’t be saved for special occasions.”
