The husband invited a group of my fine co-workers around for a roast dinner today. While I have to quibble with Stephanie's chefly insistence that gravox gravy is a bad thing, I cannot criticise her technique for well-cooked but tender pork. We didn't have any gravox anyway, so I suppose that's a victory to her. Roasted meat was accompanied by perfect potatoes, soft and tender with crispy bits. Luvverly. No luck with crackling again. I do what people say - salt and oil, salt and lemon, just salt, start with a hot oven, finish with a hot oven. No luck ever.
We followed the roasty stuff with chocolate mousse from the Perfect recipe book and strawberries.
There is nothing like the pleasure of feeding people who give every evidence of enjoying their food. As well as telling funny stories and laughing lots.
We sat out in the backyard in the autumn sunshine with our glasses of rose, watched the rosellas and cockatoos flying by and ate and laughed ourselves into a standstill. Some of the girls are off to watch the footy, but I think I'll be taking myself to an early bed.