There really is a certain joy in producing menus for dinner parties with more courses than your guests have fingers and toes, but right now it’s coming up for two in the morning and all I’ve done all day is shop and cook and wash-up. I do have a new obsession with a certain product and a sumptuous banquet just eaten to show for it, but it’s coupled with dish-washing wrinkles, bleary eyes and an acute tenderness in my whisking/stirring muscles and it just doesn’t feel worth it.

There’ll be a post in a bit about the stuff actually in the menu accompanied by lovely plating and pictures from my talented sis, but for the moment what I really need is time to sleep and recover and quake with fear about the impending Boxing Day banquet that I’m cooking for 20.

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