Day five plus a bit: it was all building up to this ...
Even I will admit I hadn't expected to spend the entire day cooking - I'd hoped we might have a couple of hours free to go out, have a change of scene - but in the even I didn't leave the flat. Usually this bothers me, but for once I was so busy I didn't mind in the least.
I was up at 8:30 with an announcement we'd be leaving the flat in half-an-hour to do the food shopping. Breakfast could wait for our return, and for my part I'd shower before the party started; in other words, I wanted to make a good start.
We were back an hour or so later with enough to feed a small army, and as I've not gone into any detail about the menu, here goes:
- sticky rice balls with Thai spices rolled in crushed peanuts;
- artichoke tartlets;
- feta skewers with char-grilled aubergine (that's eggplant to any Americans out there) and mint;
- roast new potatoes with turmeric, lemon, green pepper and coconut;
- the inevitable washerwomen to follow.
My criteria when choosing this lot were very similar to last time: besides having to be vegetarian, obviously - I'm sufficiently militant to refuse having any meat or fish to be cooked in the flat - it should all be finger foods (to cut down on washing up) with sufficient variety for there to be something to appeal to everyone. My personal favourite was the feta skewers, which were fantastically fresh; not that the rest of in any way bad, but these really stood out for me.
Philippe inexplicably volunteered to stuff the apricots (a whole kilo of the things we'd left to soak overnight), taking no heed of my warnings about how dull he'd find it. To his credit, he made it about two-thirds of the way through before getting fed up, at which stage I decided that it was only fair he should do something rather more interesting to follow. I'd made the rice balls in the meantime so decided to do the boring bit of the tartlets (no pastry, which didn't make cutting out circles of bread any the more interesting), leaving him to make the filling. We made three dozen of these, which seemed a reasonable figure considering I didn't know how many people we should expect; with two shelves in the oven, the final tray went in with the potatoes, leaving me free to make the feta skewers. Which left finishing off the washerwomen, which I did as it was equally laborious as their initial preparation.
Sod it, the feta skewers were so good I'm giving you the recipe: slice an aubergine lengthways, as thinly as you can manage, then brush each side with olive oil and put in a hot griddle pan or frying pan (no fat here) until it turns translucent and blackens a little. Turn over and repeat, then remove from the heat and leave to cool. Then slice each one down the middle, place a large mint leaf and a cube of feta cheese at one end; roll up and secure with a skewer or cocktail stick. Cover and chill, drizzling your serving plate with balsamic vinegar just before serving.
Back to the washerwomen: Philippe deserved a change of scene by now, so off he went to collect an enormous order of sausages and china (another thing our parents wanted) while I got frying. Somehow I was finished by the time he got back, laden with shopping bags: he'd let himself be tempted and bought some china for himself. Quite how he was to get it all back I didn't know.
There were about two hours to go by now, so I got going with the cleaning and was in the shower when the first guests arrived: two of my neighbours were a bit early as they were going out for supper, though they would pop round on their return. It gradually snowballed from there, the room slowly filling, as did my wine racks - if you're ever short of a bottle, throw a party and watch that collection grow - amid a fabulous ambience. Philippe was the nominal barman, a role he took to with great gusto after a shaky start (pouring gin over the top of my tonic; it was the first time he'd had to make a G&T). The food got some wonderful compliments, though people did ask me what I'd do with all the remaining whipped cream I'd prepared for dipping the washerwomen in. Inexplicably I appeared to be the only one having dirty thoughts ...
Philippe was looking pretty tired by the time the last guests left (at 3:30am), but all in all it was a great success. Unfortunately he had an early flight to catch so we were up only four hours later, absolutely knackered but pretty damn happy.
I was up at 8:30 with an announcement we'd be leaving the flat in half-an-hour to do the food shopping. Breakfast could wait for our return, and for my part I'd shower before the party started; in other words, I wanted to make a good start.
We were back an hour or so later with enough to feed a small army, and as I've not gone into any detail about the menu, here goes:
- sticky rice balls with Thai spices rolled in crushed peanuts;
- artichoke tartlets;
- feta skewers with char-grilled aubergine (that's eggplant to any Americans out there) and mint;
- roast new potatoes with turmeric, lemon, green pepper and coconut;
- the inevitable washerwomen to follow.
My criteria when choosing this lot were very similar to last time: besides having to be vegetarian, obviously - I'm sufficiently militant to refuse having any meat or fish to be cooked in the flat - it should all be finger foods (to cut down on washing up) with sufficient variety for there to be something to appeal to everyone. My personal favourite was the feta skewers, which were fantastically fresh; not that the rest of in any way bad, but these really stood out for me.
Philippe inexplicably volunteered to stuff the apricots (a whole kilo of the things we'd left to soak overnight), taking no heed of my warnings about how dull he'd find it. To his credit, he made it about two-thirds of the way through before getting fed up, at which stage I decided that it was only fair he should do something rather more interesting to follow. I'd made the rice balls in the meantime so decided to do the boring bit of the tartlets (no pastry, which didn't make cutting out circles of bread any the more interesting), leaving him to make the filling. We made three dozen of these, which seemed a reasonable figure considering I didn't know how many people we should expect; with two shelves in the oven, the final tray went in with the potatoes, leaving me free to make the feta skewers. Which left finishing off the washerwomen, which I did as it was equally laborious as their initial preparation.
Sod it, the feta skewers were so good I'm giving you the recipe: slice an aubergine lengthways, as thinly as you can manage, then brush each side with olive oil and put in a hot griddle pan or frying pan (no fat here) until it turns translucent and blackens a little. Turn over and repeat, then remove from the heat and leave to cool. Then slice each one down the middle, place a large mint leaf and a cube of feta cheese at one end; roll up and secure with a skewer or cocktail stick. Cover and chill, drizzling your serving plate with balsamic vinegar just before serving.
Back to the washerwomen: Philippe deserved a change of scene by now, so off he went to collect an enormous order of sausages and china (another thing our parents wanted) while I got frying. Somehow I was finished by the time he got back, laden with shopping bags: he'd let himself be tempted and bought some china for himself. Quite how he was to get it all back I didn't know.
There were about two hours to go by now, so I got going with the cleaning and was in the shower when the first guests arrived: two of my neighbours were a bit early as they were going out for supper, though they would pop round on their return. It gradually snowballed from there, the room slowly filling, as did my wine racks - if you're ever short of a bottle, throw a party and watch that collection grow - amid a fabulous ambience. Philippe was the nominal barman, a role he took to with great gusto after a shaky start (pouring gin over the top of my tonic; it was the first time he'd had to make a G&T). The food got some wonderful compliments, though people did ask me what I'd do with all the remaining whipped cream I'd prepared for dipping the washerwomen in. Inexplicably I appeared to be the only one having dirty thoughts ...
Philippe was looking pretty tired by the time the last guests left (at 3:30am), but all in all it was a great success. Unfortunately he had an early flight to catch so we were up only four hours later, absolutely knackered but pretty damn happy.
posted by Anthony at
08:07
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