My mother taught me to hold back a recipe for at least one specialty dish that everyone likes. That way, you're always assured of an invitation to potlucks and parties. If everyone knew how to make it, it wouldn't be special anymore. My son Dave has been angling for a particular recipe for years without success. I was making that dish yesterday because I knew how much he liked it. I wasn't too worried about putting it together while we chatted in the kitchen; even if he could identify ingredients, he wouldn't know proportions. I was working from a handwritten recipe on a scrap of paper. That traitorous Kid came to stand beside me on some subterfuge and took a photo with his cellphone and then, laughing maniacally, showed me that my secret was no longer secret! Rotten Kid. I made him take a solemn oath not to share it with anyone else, but now his trustworthiness is in question.
Deb and Craig arrived about the time I'd quit yelling at Dave. They brought the most beautiful, bud-laden peony bush (photos tomorrow), then got out a shovel and Deb planted it for me in the front garden. It is placed right where I can see it from my chair and enjoy the oh-so-exotic flowers. Dave and Craig also cleaned out the dog run where the chicks will live outside when the time is right.
As it is with all our holidays, the menu must remain the same year after year. Even though I'd added that one potato dish for Rotten Dave, I still had to serve our traditional red potatoes and peas to go with the ham or it wouldn't have been Easter.
As soon as the table was cleared, chips were counted and cards were dealt. What can I say? We do cling to tradition!
All too soon, the Kids had to head back down the hill. We were a small group this year, but it was a great day. (Rotten Dave will probably make copies and pass out my recipe on the street corner.)