(A bit of history. Actually happened in April, but it seems appropriate.)
I know, I know. I’m falling down on the job. No photos from last night’s dinner party. The good news is that my nose isn’t broken. Just bruised enough that it hurts to wear my glasses, so this will be a short post.
My daughter, you see, is rambunctious. And last night, whilst attempting to wrangle her into her pyjamas, she channelled her Scots ancestry, rocketed straight up out of a crouch and gave me a Glasgow Kiss.
That would be a head butt, to those of you fortunate enough to have never experienced one.
Pow! Right in the nose.
An hour and a half before the dinner.
Which consisted of canapés of paté de canard with foie gras and white bean and fennel purée, panko coated, fried “blow toads,” roasted red pepper soup with sour cream and lump crab meat garnish, and shrimp in tasso gravy over polenta.
Then it turned out that one of my guests was allergic to shellfish. So she had the blow fish (also known as “chicken of the sea”) over the polenta instead.
It pays to check with guests beforehand.
Off to find the red, white and blue bunting.
Happy Independence Day weekend. Our great experiment continues!