Fransgiving

I know I know, every day you raise thanks be to God or someone, for the daily blessing of moi in your lives. What on earth would you do without my cooking bible advising you against eating the vegelez option on planes, and such.

With this in mind I threw an early Autumn thanks giving party for my ten favourite food pilgrims.

Coming the same day I stumbled off a waking night I was imagining it as akin to the trauma of those arriving in the New World. But thanks to the hours early arrival of Chazney, and the hours late arrival of my guests it was pulled off with no stress. In fact, I would say, with aplomb!

The day before I'd simmered the red cabbage with brown sugar, red wine vinegar, some old red wine, cinnamon, chopped up apple, red onion, and some lemon or orange juice (I can't remember really). This took two hours.

Then rising from my waking night shift nap I put the chickens and sweet potatoes in to cook before stewing myself in a nice invigorating bath. Was ready and dripping to answer the door

to Chaz at 4pm and to begin instructing her in most of the prep whilst I stuck into the mulled wine.

The sweet potatoes I squeezed ou t of their skin and mashed the flesh with lime and cinnamon, bedding them into a dish with a blanket of mini marshmallows to roast in the oven. This would go, I hoped, with masses of white mashed potato, green bean

casserole (Nigella's sex talk for cooked in loads of butter, and lemon), and the magnificent red cabbage. We had apple and chestnut stuffing, and jugs brimming with thick onion gravy.

For pudding we had hot apple and pumpkin crumble with a very crumbly brown sugar topping, and cornish vanilla ice cream melting all over it.

To set the scene I scattered, nay, tipped, three bags of autumn leaves over the kitchen floor. Just incase they didn't get the autumnal theme. And because I had nothing else to do the following day but sweep up leaf dirt.