I love this picture, this moment, though I’m not sure it quite does the Sunday justice.
After much planning and booking in advance among a bunch of very busy and lovely friends, we finally had a late and boozy lunch at the Summertown Aristologist. I’d been for wine before, but hadn’t made it for a proper feed and my god did we make up for it. The five of us worked our way through a dreamy seafood feast, a couple of carafes of natural chardonnay, a lovely red blend (thanks Lucy Margeaux) and a pinot franc. Of course I’m bias as I could live on sugar, but the desserts were exceptional. A honey and wattle seed pannacotta with sweet oat cakes and a whole-orange sorbet with rhubarb syrup that was creamier and tastier than any I’ve tried.
Luci was kind enough to drive, not only up the Hill but all the way across town to mine, which I am so grateful for. The lift, and the time to talk with one of the best ladies I know, the sun pouring in and an old National album on. It was 6 by the time I got home, so I climbed straight into bed, slept till eight, had a shower and then went right back to it, which honestly is a perfect Sunday in my book.