Sport 9: Spring 1992
Another hilarious/disastrous dinner party, depending on your sense of colour. This is Suzy's and my third attempt to cut expenses and surprise ourselves. She does the soup and dessert, I do the mains and after dinner nibbles. The men provide the wine. White wine because neither Suzy nor I like red. There is no consultation, no synchronising of recipes. So we get (from Suze) a chill whitish-green cucumber soup; from myself chicken fricassee, creamed potatoes and broad beans; a lemon sorbet (Suze) and, instead of chocolate mints, I have scooped up a bag of frosted caramels.
'It's a wonder you don't cover both of us with whipped cream and be done with it,' Andrew, Suzy's husband, groans.
'You'd be a sight more colourful, old man,' Jasper joins in.
We laugh so much we might have drunk half a dozen bottles of claret instead of two modest gerwurztraminers, a Matawhero and a Villa Maria. As she kisses me goodnight, Suze suggests an all-red dinner. Borsch, raw beef platter, raspberries, drinks with red cherries floating.