My Granda (grandfather) came to visit for dinner yesterday. He’s 95 years young. I say young because I can only hope that I will have his energy and enthusiasm for life at his age. I wanted to treat him so I made a big dish of mashed potatoes flavoured with fresh Irish butter, milk and chives cut from my plant by the door, not forgetting a sprinkling of salt & pepper. It was light, fluffy, soft and matched the slices of roast chicken, homemade gravy and fresh vegetables perfectly.
The only thing is I’m dreadful when it comes to portion sizes. Ask me to cook for our family and I, more often than not, am left with leftovers. Today I still had a big dish of mash sitting in the fridge and I really didn’t fancy mash a second day in a row. The kids are off school for the next two weeks for the Easter holidays and I had hungry mouths to feed. I got a knock to the door at about 9.30am and was handed 4 fresh, still warm, duck eggs. They are gorgeous with pale shells and it seemed that the only way to do them justice was to poach them.