I live for feasts. Birthday feasts, holiday feasts, no reason-midweek feasts. I think you do to. First there is the inherited inability to cook in small quantities. Then the need to do four hundred dishes instead of a restrained two or three. The the joy found in picking a theme, researching recipes, shopping for ingredients, polishing cutlery + wine glasses, bringing out fresh tablecloths, planning the cooking to stretch out over a fews days prior so that on the day of the feast only a few minor things need doing + the evening can begin smoothly with wine, music + delicious aromas. Stress has no place at a feast.
Lastly there is the divine satisfying pleasure when the chatter dies down + there is comfortable silence as people chew, flavours explode + smiles start to form before the “dis ishh shhhooo goood” comments start flowing.
Thus, on thursday afternoon I found myself frying a whole packet of poppadoms leisurely + smiling to myself thinking…
Goddamn I love feasts.
