Autumn Harvest…After
I think we can all agree that restraint has never been my strongest suit. A passing acquaintance, at best.
But really—why would I indulge in restraint when abandoning it entirely yields something like this?
I mean, look at it.
A table that refused restraint and was all the better for it—russet linen, amber glass, and a riot of autumn leaves tumbling through the centre like a quiet celebration of abundance. Set not just for dinner, but for conversation, laughter, and the kind of evening you wish you could bottle and keep.
Chestnuts, walnuts, cinnamon sticks, dried orange slices, and the tiniest little missile apples—tucked here, scattered there, catching the candlelight in the most extraordinary way. Every element layered in, not carefully measured, but joyfully added.
It was, quite deliberately, a table of abundance. Of generosity. Of excess.
And that, I realised, was exactly the point.
Because the people gathered around it have been nothing but generous—with their time, their friendship, their steady presence across the years. Offering this in return, in my own language of food and beauty and a slightly unhinged number of decorative elements, felt not indulgent… but fitting.
Entirely fitting.
The evening was everything that I wanted it to be; convivial, relaxed with easy conversation and laughter.
As usual, the menu was designed to keep me out of the kitchen as much as possible (maybe not entirely successfully this time), but with deft potato mashing from one friend, and plating of the lamb by another, it all came together beautifully.
We started the evening off with pre-dinner drinks and my signature cheese platter which I supplemented with a couple of canapes which worked well. The crostini spread with lemon infused whipped ricotta, topped with roasted grapes was a hit. The soft dried figs spread with goat cheese and wrapped in prosciutto, were a sweet-salty taste bomb.
Dinner was a recipe for a slow-cooked lamb shoulder from RecipeTin Eats. Cooking the meat low and slow over 12 hours rendered it meltingly tender, and I served it accompanied by hearty mashed potatoes, roasted heirloom carrots and a pear and goat cheese salad.
Apple and blackberry crumble using the family favourite recipe that Mum has used since my childhood was dessert and was, I think, an appropriate nod to the autumn harvest feel of the night.
It was a hearty menu and I made enough to ensure that I won’t need to cook for the family for the next couple of nights.
The tones that were a little… brash in daylight softened into autumnal glow in candlelight.
There was so much that made the night memorable; the people of course, but also the revelation of office scandal, some many years after it occurred, but still delicious to hear about. My wonderful children packing the dishwasher for me, unasked, and the unexpected, but thoughtful gift of candles from one of my guest’s mothers. Thank you so much Anne; they will be used with pleasure and pride.
Before I know it it will be time to be thinking ahead to May’s gathering and its theme; Soup Weather. However, as I sit here, with a plate of cheese and crackers left over last to pick at night I am more than content to consign those plans for another day. Just for today though I am going to bask in the glow of the memories of a fabulous night.
Missile apples are absolutely tiny, but also perfect to tuck into a centrepiece.
