For the first time since the beginning of March I reunited with family for my Dad’s birthday. The time isn’t right for the lot of us to be going out to celebrate family occasions in restaurants yet, and we work better together in the setting of my mum and dads dining room anyway. So that’s where we descended with presents and booze and lots of food.
It felt good not just being reunited with family – at least close family – for the first time since lockdown began, but feeding a load of people (even though it was just meant to be a “bit of lunch”).
We didn’t know what the weather was going to be like in early August; would it be too hot to sit outside, would it bucket down, or would indoors be too stuffy? In the end my dad made the decision for us by saying he couldn’t be arsed putting the gazebo up, so I filled the dining table with antipasti, bread and salads.
I’ve got a shoulder injury so my mum was on duty taking calamari and bread in and out of the oven but she was recovering from a bad back herself (yes we are both decrepit but at least she’s got an excuse being a pensioner) so I had her sitting down while I prepared everything else.
Mozzarella pearls and pomodorini on skewers for the kids, warm ciabatta, platters of Parma ham, figs, artichokes and rocket. Pasta and garlicky green beans tossed in freshly made pesto and topped with toasted pine nuts.
We drank Aperol spritz until I ran out then we just drank Prosecco, listened to mandolins and accordions and the Gypsy Kings. The kids played outside then came in for tiramisu and cake and cannoli.
Then home, shattered, and straight to bed. And the best bit? Leftovers. Always the leftovers, never the washing up.
Until next time, enjoy spending time with whoever you call family. Whether it’s meeting up to eat and drink, or in your happy memories.