Cooking on one's own birthday!

There are five of us: Sue, Valerie, Jo, Jackie and myself, all local to this part of Sussex, and we think of ourselves as The Girls. It has been so for five years, since we first came together, and much has happened in those five years in the way of personal and family events. For my four friends anyway. I'm the odd one out. I'm the only one not to have a husband. I'm not unique in being childless - three of us are in that boat - but the combination of no husband and no children, nor even a pet, does mark me out as very much alone.

That said, I think that in some respects the others are wistful for the personal freedom I enjoy, for being completely in control of my life, for not having to consult with anyone, and for not having any dependants. But in other ways they must think my solitary and self-absorbed life rather lacking in warmth and companionship, of reasons to invest time and money in a lovely home, and all the pleasures of sharing. Husbands, children and grandchildren may be a constant source of concern for one reason or another, but I think that if it came to it, none of my friends would swap their occasionally-complicated lives for my simple one.

All that said, however, I'm rather glad that my life has worked out so that at the grand old age of sixty-eight - that birthday was yesterday - I am shining serenely as a sun without planets, at the very centre of my own universe. In no way do I feel disadvantaged, or denied happiness, or facing a meaningless future. Very much the opposite. I look around Melford Hall and tut at its growing shabbiness. But one day, when I've bought my all-electric car and my savings are building up again, the house will gets its overdue radical makeover. That will obliterate the home that Mum and Dad created twenty years ago, and I will regret that, but when I'm seventy-five or so I'll want a setting that will suit myself, and reflect my own much more modern tastes and sense of style. Plus all the eco-friendly installations I'll want. 

Anyway, once the coronavirus restrictions began to be eased somewhat, and the social-distancing rules allowed it, we - The Girls - started getting together again for socially-distanced garden lunches once a week, taking it in turns to put on something nice that would feed five. Last week, on the 2nd July, it was my turn, and it was agreed that this would be my Official Birthday Lunch, even though the real birthday was actually 6th July. I didn't mind at all that I'd be cooking something on my own birthday. I was after all being let off doing a starter, or a dessert, or supplying things to nibble. Just a main course. But I would make it a good one.

I don't entertain often. My home doesn't lend itself to a big gathering. As little as eight people will make it seem crowded. As it was, it would barely be within the social-distancing requirements for just five people, and that was with a one-metre separation, not two. It was just about doable. Ideally we'd eat out on my back patio, Jackie providing the table and chairs, but it became obvious that rain and wind might defeat that notion (and it did: we stayed indoors). So I extended the round table in the conservatory to seat five with reasonable separation, and hoped that by having the door to the garden open, plus all the windows, we'd get away with it.

Jackie is vegetarian. We were all used to that, and it meant only that there was no meat or fish on the menu. There was abundant scope for concocting an interesting main course. Me being me, I wasn't going fob my friends off with just 'baked bean on toast'. 'One of your stir-fries, please!' the cry had been. I would comply. But I fancied going further than that. Certainly I'd serve up a colourful medley of stir-fried vegetables; but to supplement that, some baked stuff including halloumi cheese; and some garlic-and-olive flatbread, in case it still wasn't enough. There were five of us, after all.

The big day was on a Thursday. I'd set aside Tuesday and Wednesday for getting my house in order, and in particular making the garden neat. But Tuesday was a wet and windy day - impossible to do anything outside - and I had to cram my entire preparation effort into the day before, the Wednesday. I ticked off a lot that day. I seemed never to sit down. Even so, I was surprised to see, at bedtime, that I'd clocked up over 22,000 steps just buzzing to and fro about my house and garden!

I slept soundly, as you might well imagine!

Next day, Thursday, I was up promptly and set to efficiently. The other four girls were due at 12.30pm, and I'd worked out my cooking-timings and the other things I'd need to do on the day. I knew that whoever had brought nibbles would break them out, and we'd be washing down some rosé wine before I'd start getting the food in the oven and on the hob. I just needed to have the table laid, and everything ready to cook. I remembered to put the oven on, to pre-heat it.

The stir-fry was just a matter of cutting up red and orange peppers, courgettes, broccoli, asparagus, with raisins to add towards the end, to introduce a note of sweetness. I had a big wok to cook all of that.

There were also new potatoes and young carrots to parboil with a little fresh mint, and then bake in an oven pan, along with lots of little vine tomatoes.

It was fun to arrange the above in an oven pan, to be baked.

The Cypriot halloumi came in 250g bricks, which I cut into more manageable 125g brickettes, slitting each with a knife, and drizzling over with olive oil and a scattering of fresh mint. I didn't necessarily expect my guests to consume a whole brick each (which would be a whopping 40 syns, in Slimming World terms, when you are allowed only 15 syns daily!) but the stuff was going to be there if they had the appetite!

The final item for the oven was the flatbread.

Set out on the table were the cold items: baby leaves, large sliced tomatoes, sun-dried tomatoes, and dressings.

I'd narrowed my choice of clothing down to a sleeved red top, to be worn with black leggings, or a sleeveless blue summer dress. I decided on the dress. Both had V-necks, which would best show off the new pearl pendant I'd be getting as my birthday present from The Girls.

I was ready with five minutes to spare. Everyone was punctual. Valerie had brought me some flowers and a fruit pie she'd made as a dessert. Here she is, putting the flowers in a jar for me.

The others poured out wine and started on the nibbles. Here are Jo and Sue, coming in from my back garden:

And, while the table still looked tidy, I took two shots of us all, with myself in the second:

I set a ten-second delay on the Leica, and nearly didn't make it. But Jackie got a proper shot of me, closer up - wearing the pearl pendant after presentation and a rousing chorus of 'Happy Birthday To You' - although she has made me look uncharacteristically over the top in the grin department! It does show off the pendant nicely, though:

Soon it was time to serve up my main course (which fortunately I'd remembered to pop in the oven). First, Jackie popped a cork out in the back garden. I was hoping to catch the cork jetting off into the air, but it was too quick for me.

It seemed to be well-received. I felt certain that I'd attempted too much here, but better of course to serve up too much than too little. As it happened, there was enough left over to make a good meal that evening for Jo's husband Clive: Jo told me he thought it all yummy. So I must have done OK.

More wine, more chat. Then Valerie's fruit pie with cream. So indulgent.

I have to confess that, all told, my syn total for that day was an outrageous 85.5.

It wasn't a party, but it felt like one. It wasn't even my proper birthday, but it definitely felt like it was! The binge lasted until 5.30pm: that's five hours for a lunch, when, after all, the main course was simple straightforward fare that took no cooking talent whatever to prepare. But then, that's the best I can do. Not having to fix meals for anybody but myself for most of the year,. I never develop any skills. I don't think I could cope with cooking every day for a family! It's hard to confess to being a failure as a potential housewife, but you have to face the facts. Gosh, when I think of what my Mum would have done in the way of expert cake-making, to embellish all this...