Rhubarb and almond tart
I AM a feasting kinda gal, excess draws me like a moth to a flame and there's nothing that excites me more than an 8-hour lunch that becomes supper (I call that lupper) and then goes on into the night as we open yet another bottle. My friend Andy, who is more English than I am, recognises it as a 'Leo' (Sayer = all-dayer in Cockney rhyming slang). It's a well-established ritual but one that happens less often as we get older, and not at all under current lockdown restrictions. Sigh. Tasting menus excite me. They allow smidgins of lots of different foods but never trigger the synapse that controls the Off button. I read menu like others novels. All the starters, please, then divvy up the mains so we can all have a taste. Someone at the table will always say 'ooh, there's a chocolate thing on, I must save room for that' and I'll think boo, how dull, I'll have the CHEESE. I am quite well known for desserts generally, have made and sold co