Well, that title might be slightly exaggerated.
What I mean is there are great cooks residing around here, and then there’s me.
As I hardly ever refuse an invitation, I have, fortunately, dined at quite a number of tables. I am amazed how they produce wonderful multi-course feasts with such aplomb and ease. The whole experience is a joy, which ultimately throws me into a state of depression in the immediate days to follow.
How to return the favour! Reciprocative ideas dwindle to self- depreciation and sleepless nights. Family remind me of my tardiness to repay hospitality.
When the occasion arises I can produce simple comfort food, but I could not possibly offer my erstwhile hosts and hostesses my top dishes. A BBQ chicken smothered in tinned apricots, or curried sausages and rice.
Perhaps, I could take everyone out to dinner, and I have given this idea serious thought. The trouble is that could involve hiring the Community Hall, getting Neil Perry or Maggie Beer to cater and the local pub and staff to cope with the drinks.
Family is dead against that idea! There goes the inheritance!
After further consideration and a little straight talk from a dear friend, I have settled down to accepting that I cannot compete with the best of B.P. Not when it comes to culinary splendiferousness.
There are other ways to show friends how much I appreciate them. I shall have them in for drinks, nibbles, chitchat and camaraderie. That’s something I CAN do.