Because who wouldn’t want pheasant on their birthday?
Another rosy Red Hill lunch with loved ones. Life is good down there. Food always tastes that little bit more special. Cakes are always involved. Cakes or tarts…maybe a crumble. It’s such a scrumptious ritual.
Happy birthday, Dad. Your constant support and creativity both ground and inspire me. I love you.
Salad making and recipe research.
Dad’s creations are ever-welcome. Especially this chartreuse ice-cream (recipe link).
Although none of us could guess what flavour it was. Maybe that’s a sign I need to drink more French liqueur.
Time for cake. A freshly baked, warm homely apple pepper pot cake (recipe link) with fragrance and zest. Lashings of rich, earthly, molten spiced syrup replaced candles this year. And I quite think Dad preferred the syrup.
Happy birthday, Dad. I hope you enjoyed your birthday pheasant. And I hope you felt spending hours plucking the birds was worth it. I appreciate you and your dedication to deliciousness. Sorry for taking so much cake home.