Within minutes, Steve Poses' rules for home entertaining - for boosting it 10 percent! - were going out the window of his apartment above Rittenhouse Square, swan-diving toward the fountains and dog-walkers below.

They are perfectly sensible rules, evolved over his years of restaurateuring and, more specifically, big-time catering at Frog Commissary - plan ahead (like way ahead, 10 days if you're having a serious dinner party), don't bite off more than you can chew. Jot each chore on a repositionable sticky label. Move it across the cabinet door as you complete that task.

Oh, and make sure - riiight! - to relax.

But there are rules. And there is real life. This was real life: I'd invited myself over to test-drive Poses' new hybrid cookbook/Web site, At Home.

I'd given just 48 hours' notice. (Ixnay on the 10 days!) A photographer was heading over. The five-year project would get its first real scrutiny.

In fact, the cookbooks were shipping that day (Oct. 9), encoded with customized instructions to activate the Web site (on which you can search for and print out new recipes, and some of Poses' golden oldies).

So of course Murphy's Law had a field day. In small ways (the coffee grinder that was to be used to fine-grind the peppercorns had broken) and in larger ones (there was simply no time to hollow out the dainty sugar pumpkins that were to contain the dessert course of pumpkin ice cream), one was reminded that battle plans are fine - until the war starts.

Steve Poses aproned up. And in the end - which ended an hour later than the plan called for - everything was groovy.

No matter that the aromatic red lentil dip got scratched. No matter that the rosemary lemonade (savory and refreshing) seemed redundant, since we'd long since cracked open a bottle of white, then red.

No matter that the pumpkin ice cream with Poses' crunchy pecan praline never firmed up in the countertop freezer that labored groaningly for hours.

The centerpiece fried green tomato sandwiches were just terrific, meaty and cleverly interspersed with fresh, ripe tomatoes. The autumnal slaw was crunchy (though it could have marinated longer). And I'm a fan of crisp, roasted parsnips, so that was an easy sell.

Was my takeaway message that home entertaining was a snap and that I ought to do it 10 percent more? Nope, Poses was looking a bit tuckered out even though I'd intermittently helped out.

Was it that this particular cookbook contained some special secret? Hard to tell. Though some recipes (the za'atar grilled pita chips) seemed far simpler than I imagined, and others that I flipped to (Korean tacos) seemed harder to follow.

Was it that when you come to the table with good will, having shared in the shredding of the celery root and stepped over Izzy, the snoozing black Lab, and had a glass or two of wine, you are likely to be filled with an abiding sense of affection and well-being?

Well, yes, indeed.

Which is the point, after all, let the rules be damned.

Steve Poses looked as if he'd dropped a few pounds.

The catering heavyweight is 62 now, his own diet being strictly monitored by his wife Christina Sterner, a manager for years for dancer Mikhail Baryshnikov's foundation. She has put him on a 2,300ish-a-day, calorie-controlled regimen. So every day, except nights that they dine out, he eats only the contents of an insulated feed bag of sorts that shows up on his doorstep from an outfit in New York called Fresh Diet.

A typical dinner might consist of microwavable grilled chicken with a "gelatinous, but not too bad" sauce, whole-wheat pasta, and pureed carrots.