My first Dinner Party: how it went down

Nothing in life ever appears straight forward, and dinner parties are no different.

In the run-up to my hotly-anticipated 3 courser, everything seemed simple. I'd followed the golden rule of Preparation, and had begun buying my ingredients the weekend before to avoid a last-minute dash to Sainsbury's Local an hour before my guests arrive on Thursday night in the vain hope they stock marinated Artichokes (for those wondering, they don't).

For the ingredients I didn't get on Saturday, a Tuesday evening visit to Brixton's Tesco Superstore - two days before the feast - still allowed ample time for me to find the elusive sourdough baguette (Tesco actually stocks it!), as well as the pitted olives, red wine and mascarpone. I had it all planned out: I was to cook the main on Tuesday evening so that come D Day - or Dinner Day - I could float effortlessly between kitchen and living room, charming the pants off my guests while my stew pot gently reheated on the stove. I was in control, and I was calm.

That was, until my beloved boyfriend decided to get involved.

En route to Tesco, I call him to ask for a little kitchen assistance in de-boning my shoulder of lamb so that I can begin cooking when I return (N.B. this isn't cheating. The official Guidebook on Fair Cooking* says a chef may use the services of an assistant without this constituting 'help').
'The leg of lamb?' he asks dozily. 'I put it in the freezer. I wasn't sure when it would go off so thought it would be best...'

I want to throttle him! My plans are dashed: I have plans Wednesday night, so can't cook it then. The stew takes a good two hours, so if I wait until Thursday evening my guests won't eat until 10pm. Hungry guests are not pleasant guests.

There's only one solution: my boyfriend will have to don the apron. This completely defeats the purpose of the evening - to flex my culinary muscles - but I'm left with no choice. Humiliated, I throw the kitchen towel in.

So, here it is - MY BOYFRIEND'S Rosemary & Olive Lamb Stew, the before and after shots:

I have to admit, it's pretty good. The lamb is a velvety dream and the red wine sauce, divine. It's served with couscous.

One final spanner is thrown in works: we have no guests! At the eleventh hour my friend has to cancel as her man won't be finishing evening college until very late. We therefore forgo the Crostini starter and Tirimasu Teacups dessert as there's no-one to impress. Which means a pack of unopened Lady Fingers is now loitering in my cupboard.

Janine xx


*currently out of print.