In many ways, moving from a house to an apartment in the city has been wonderful. No more mulling who to call about chimney repair, or whether the lawn needs care. These days, when a sink isn’t working right or the air filters need to be replaced, the response is to call the front desk.

What I most miss about our house — other than the fact I could just open the back door to let out the dog — is the space to host more people. Gone are the days when I could invite 10-plus to dinner, with ample room for everyone. Now, four is comfortable, six is a little cramped, and no one can sleep over, because our second bedroom is an office and our den is an expensive storage unit.

You could say the scale of our hospitality has changed — but not my need to continue cooking for others. Nothing beats a meal prepared at home-sweet-home for intimacy. It’s the difference between sending someone a text as opposed to a letter. The latter involves finding paper, putting pen to it, and sending the missive off with a stamp. In other words, it’s the extra thought that counts.

“I wish I had more time!” I can hear some wanna-be hosts complain. Here’s the deal: Ultimately, we can prioritize doing things that matter. Some of the busiest people in my world are some of the best hosts. What’s their secret? I polled four from my posse about how to make it easy on the cook yet special for the guest. They were quick to share tips, one of which is simply to be present.

“Plan a menu that can be 90 percent completed prior to the arrival of your guests,” says Katherine Maynard, a health care communications strategist who lives in Takoma Park, Md. “Hence, I never serve risotto.”

Ditch the desire to be Ina Garten Perfect. “There’s this idea you have to get it all right,” says Veronica Rogers, who owns VER Studio in D.C.’s Palisades neighborhood with her sister, Kristina Temple, and hosts regular, curated gatherings called Dinner for Ten.

For Veronica, it’s more important to “welcome strangers into a space and be attuned to their needs.” My first taste of Dinner for Ten, whose theme celebrated hospitality and whose guests included a guest chef, a cellist, and a florist, unfolded mostly on a terrace on a cool November night. One of Veronica’s gracious touches was a wrap draped over each chair — with the guest’s initials stitched on the fabric. Another was how she eased into the evening with a short, nondenominational liturgy from “Every Moment Holy,” a grace note before we began eating.

Note to those who think they have to prepare everything themselves: Don’t. “I always tell people to make one thing from scratch,” and maybe buy the rest, says David Hagedorn, a former Washington chef and food writer who relocated to Nice, France, earlier this year. “You can zhuzh things up from the store with your own touches.” A quality soup can be finished with fresh herbs or other enhancer, he says. Apéro — short for apéritif, and an early evening transition from the workday to dinner — is a ritual where he now lives. “French people often just put out crackers,” he says, “but we don’t do that.” He broadens cocktail-hour snacks with nut mixes, charcuterie and something homemade. (“I keep chicken liver pâté in a trio of jars.”)

David likes to serve a tidbit that might be new to his French guests or a welcome taste of the States for his ex-pat friends. Fried okra or deviled eggs mean more there, he says, “but I try to avoid more than one last-minute thing.”

Instead of putting out a bunch of crudités that might not get eaten, he adds, consider highlighting one perfect vegetable, such as blanched, chilled asparagus stalks served vertically along with a fun dip.

Hosting is about more than the food. When you want to incorporate flowers, David suggests buying a bouquet from the grocery store and placing its individual stems in their own juice jars or flea-market finds to get more bang for your buck. In lieu of flowers, I sometimes place small objects from my travels on the table. I also like to create place cards, which serve to re-distribute couples or guests who already know each other. To help break any ice, I sometimes share a fun nugget of information about each one on their card.

Personalizing a guest's spot has other perks. Who can resist asking someone about doing “dinner theater in Virginia Beach with Bob Denver a.k.a. “Gilligan” or looking “a humpback whale directly in the eye?” Recently, at the District home of executive search consultants Rachel and Will Caggiano, guests sat where the couple had placed their Polaroid pictures, snapped at an earlier party in their home. (The amusing touch proved a subtle reminder for me to reciprocate with a dinner date.)

Whether you’re hosting as a couple or on your own, delegate responsibilities. “Employ your village,” says Rachel. “My husband owns ambiance: candles, bar, playlist, lighting. My son does the dishes. I’m not above asking a guest to sear a steak, carve a chicken, or pick herbs.” If I’m inviting people who might not know each other, I typically task my most outgoing guest to keep everyone entertained while I’m putting finishing touches on a menu or making drinks.

The one time-saver everyone agrees on is to make dessert ahead of time. “And if someone offers to bring dessert, and you’re not a baker, take them up on their generous offer,” says Katherine. A clean-as-you-go approach in the kitchen helps, too. Make sure the trash is empty and the dishwasher is cleared before guests arrive, says Rachel. “That last one changes everything.”

Mistakes happen. Don’t let them ruin a good time. “If you’re alone in the kitchen and you drop the lamb,” Julia Child reportedly advised her followers, “you can always just pick it up. Who’s going to know?” Her sage wisdom has saved me more than a few times, including not long ago when a meringue-capped lemon custard didn’t set. I renamed it “dessert soup.”

Instagram can make perfection look effortless. Good hosts know a lot of planning and thought go into most gatherings. It’s okay to not relish every nanosecond of the process. All my friends who entertain well acknowledge a likely moment of panic or regret before guests arrive. Rachel refers to the latter as “the inevitable ‘why did I agree to this’ ” feeling.

In the end, says Veronica, “if I’m relaxed, they’re relaxed.”

Next time I visit Philadelphia, I want to go shopping with Reem Kassis. Specifically, I want to accompany the author of “The Palestinian Table” and “The Arabesque Table” to her favorite farmers market. It’s the source of inspiration for vegetable dishes that reflect her Arab heritage, including a dish that I’ll be making on repeat this summer. 

Kassis is quick to point out that fresh corn wasn’t something she grew up eating in her native Jerusalem. The times she saw any corn was mostly during summer weddings, mixed with bell peppers and pickles, and then it was from a can. But she blends in childhood taste memories — a dressing of cumin and lemon, accents of fresh mint with cheese — that make her version sing. Because Kassis finds such good-quality olives in the States, they replace the pickles. 

I riff further on her recipe. Instead of cooking the corn, I simply shave kernels from fresh, sweet cobs. Why turn on the stove? For those who hate to waste a thing, simmer the stripped cobs with a bay leaf and a few allspice berries for a mere 20 minutes, and you have a nice, light broth to use as a base for risotto and cold summer soups. 

Another bonus of this eye-catching salad is its versatility, serving as the basis of an entree. It turns out to be a great receptacle for, say, slices of cucumber or leftover chicken or fish — all of which I’ve tried, mostly to winnow the contents of my fridge. Cooks should feel free to adjust the level of spicy heat with fresh or dried peppers. 

Bottom line: The salad encourages playing around. Also true: People will return for seconds.

Makes 6 to 8 side-dish servings (5 ½ to 6 cups)

This is one of the most adaptable warm-weather salads in my repertoire. It can gain or lose an ingredient (or two) and is just as tasty with suggested substitutions. Don’t have lime? Use a lemon. Don’t care for mint? Swap in fresh basil, and so on. If you go with the cheddar, cut it into cubes roughly the same size as the corn kernels.

MAKE AHEAD: The salad needs to rest for 20 minutes before serving, to meld the flavors. Leftovers can be refrigerated in an airtight container for a day or two.

For the dressing
2 tablespoons fresh lime or lemon juice, plus more as needed
1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
1/4 teaspoon ground cumin
2 tablespoons olive oil

For the salad
Kernels from 4 large ears of fresh corn (3 ½ to 4 cups)
Half of a seeded/diced orange or yellow bell pepper (¾ cup; may substitute half of a medium tomato, cut into corn-size dice, about 1 cup)
12 pitted green olives, such as Castelvetrano, each cut in half
2 teaspoons seeded/minced jalapeño pepper (may substitute ½ teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes)
¼ packed cup corn-size-diced sharp white cheddar cheese (may substitute crumbled feta; see NOTE, below)
Freshly cracked black pepper
¼ packed cup chopped fresh mint (may substitute basil)

Make the dressing: Combine the citrus juice, salt, and cumin in a small bowl, then whisk in the oil until well blended.

Prepare the salad: Toss together the corn, bell pepper, olives, jalapeño, and the cheddar in a mixing bowl until evenly distributed. Add the dressing, season with the black pepper as needed, and toss to coat. Let it sit for 20 minutes, to meld the flavors.

Add the mint and toss again gently and taste once more before serving; for an extra spark, add another splash or two of your lemon or lime juice.

NOTE: If you opt for feta, start with the block kind in brine. Dice it the same size as the corn and scatter it over the salad just before serving, tossing quite gently to incorporate because it has a tendency to break down and get creamy in this salad.

Adapted from cookbook author Reem Kassis.