Easter party

Eastside Road, April 5, 2015—

MOST EASTER SUNDAYS, if we're in town, we're lucky enough to be invited to a standing annual Sunday supper a couple of good friends put on in their back yard in Healdsburg. He's a sculptor; she's a seamstress — also a gifted baker, which is how we came to know them in the first place, 25 years ago or so.

This is one end of the table. There were thirty-four of us at table, I believe, and we feasted. We'd begun about two o'clock with appetizers: cheese with fresh honey just taken that morning from a wild hive; spanokopita, dolmades — have I mentioned that our hosts had lived for years in Greece?

Then we all looked for our Easter egg, hidden in the front yard — each guest finding one with his own name on it. (Fortunately, out of 34 guests, none shared a given name!)



Then we sat down at table. Another friend, Peter, presided in the "kitchen," at a couple of smoker-grills, where he roasted pork and lamb. Other dishes were roast potatoes, salads, ratatouille, Moroccan beans — I'm sorry: I was too intent on the fare, and conversation, to take notes. It was a feast.



And then dessert: a perfect lemon curd tart, a sweetly decorated sugar cookie, the most perfect rice-custard pudding I've ever had.

Wines? Well, yes, white, rosé, red…