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Posts Tagged ‘lunch party’

It seemed such a good idea at the time. Hey, I said, let’s not go to a pub for lunch to mark the end of our exercise class for the summer. I’ve got a better idea: come to my place.

Now that would have been OK if I had been addressing, say, a couple of friends. But no, I was rashly issuing this invitation to my entire class. That’s all my exercise mat-mates and our Great Leader. Oh yes please, they all said, with an equally rash enthusiasm.

No relaxing lunch in a pub garden, no kitchen staff taking responsibility for feeding 15 of us and clearing up afterwards. Everything is down to me, the daft one who’d opened her mouth and let something oddballish tumble out.

In fact I don’t regret offering to host the lunch. It’s going to be a pleasure to have everyone here as they are all such dear and good friends.

Typically of me, I am going into this great event – and, as I write, it is less than 24 hours until lift-off – with an absolute mountain of tasks to be completed. I know this because I have made lists, dozens of them, which flutter like over-sized confetti out of pockets and bags, off worktops and tables, whenever I move. They instruct me to do such things as ‘Get spare plates from cellar’ and ‘Dust top of grandfather clock’ (some of my friends are tall).

However, totally against the odds, and in a wholly uncharacteristic way, I’ve cleaned the house and done the shopping. My reward should be a long lie-down, for at least six months, but there are lists to be checked, tasks to be ticked off and added to, and panic stations to be manned.

I’ve changed my mind 28 times on what we’re going to eat. Summery stuff, obviously, so no nice comforting (and straightforward) vat of something stewy that would just need a bit of bread for mopping.

Summery food tends to be a little bit of this, a little bit of that. Mine is to be a multiple choice menu – or at least that’s how it appears in my head. Time will tell.

First off the production line was a delicious salad dressing. Get the basics out of the way, I told myself, as I stowed it in the fridge. Unfortunately, within an hour Geoff and I had consumed half of it without thinking when we had salad for lunch.

Already in the fridge were about a dozen avocado pears, irresistibly reduced in price because they were verging on the squidgy side of ripe. It seemed such a good idea to get loads of them,  but now I can’t think of a good reason for having done so. The same with a small van-load of cherry tomatoes, which will almost certainly be mush by morning. They looked so full of promise when I impulsively decided to give them a home.

I’ve made caponata, all dense and delicious, the product of only about six hours’ chopping and stirring, flavouring and praying over. The big question is, will I remember I’ve got it? Will it remain in the fridge, buried under a mountain of avocados and mushy tomatoes, or will I be alert enough to check one of my lists and bring it out for its hour of glory?

Since it’s the only thing on the menu so far that’s ready, there is every chance I will remember it and it will be the star of the show. The only, lonely, star, but a star all of my own making.

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