or lack thereof.

For Al KE

Easter Sunday. The Resurrection. New beginnings. Eggs. Family time. All very important in my life. We were expecting 11 adults and two babies for lunch.We only had nine on Easter Saturday and no one complained about the food then. There was enough.

Only two more people on Sunday. I had planned the meal to the last crumb, and even thought there might be some left over. Roast Lamb. Tick. Broccoli with toasted breadcrumbs. Tick. Aubergines with red peppers. Tick.

My husband had made the most delicious salmon and crab and prawn starter. We could have seated twelve. He also made the tomato and mint sauce for the lamb. I had made some chocolate and orange mousse for dessert. How hungry could anyone be?

And then, my pride and joy. I had peeled two bags of potatoes last Wednesday, boiled and frozen them ready for Sunday’s roasting, (the best way, don’t you know?) I had put them in the oven for the recommended time, slathered in goose fat, and then I took them out, ready to serve. I brought them to the table. They were passed round. Half way round the table I noticed that they had diminished in number quite considerably. Oh my goodness, I thought quickly, praying for an Easter miracle. It was not to be. By the time the dish reached me there was one tiny little lone potato left. I put it guiltily on my own plate.

And then I had a horrible feeling of deja vu. Not so many months ago, one Christmas I believe, I also served a dish of roast potatoes. My daughter asked me as I brought them out where the rest were. What do you mean, the rest, I said. This bowlful is it. She looked at me askance and gave me to understand that I was sorely mistaken. There were not enough. Oh dear.

So this time I had convinced myself that I was thoroughly prepared for all appetites. But I was wrong. Sorry. Next time I will peel three bags of potatoes. For each of you.

Meanwhile today is the 80th anniversary of the birth of one of my dearest frennds, Marguerite. She too loved potatoes, and would never let me run out! . She would come round to our house and her first command was, even before demanding a cup of tea, give me the potatoes and a peeler, and then I can relax!

She couldn’t imagine a meal without potatoes – and she always made sure there were enough!