I love it when guests take over the kitchen. I really do. I love the sharing and talking, the tasting and the excitement of eating something new when people come in the kitchen and cook.
On the weekend there was plenty of that. Foraged mussels steamed with garlic from the garden, just-caught fish, steamed and stirred through just-picked garlic scape soup. Slow roasted juicy pork ribs from a friend's pig and fresh new pink eyes fried crispy in a pan, washed down with cider from down the road and gin from across the peninsula. Food we had grown, caught, foraged ourselves, or knew who did, was prepared, shared and eaten. It doesn't get any better than that. I love that.
There was also a dog named Henry, I think I loved him the most.