I have quite a few favourite foods – hardly surprising as I have spent most of my professional life writing mainly cookbooks. However, I have never been especially lucky with birthday parties. I spent my twenty-first in hospital following emergency major surgery and, as it turned out, shortly before more emergency major surgery. I celebrated with my first drink of 25 ml water, which I made last half an hour, and watching the rest of the ward eat the cake that the hospital kitchen had kindly made and my visitors drinking the fizz that they had brought with them.
I had arranged a party for my thirtieth and the fridge was groaning with my favourites, which included asparagus (my birthday is in May), smoked salmon, crayfish, a home-made crab Napoléon and caviare, as well as Champagne. The night before the party, my then husband came home from work and told me that he had been made redundant, which rather took the edge of everything and completely ruined my appetite.
I broke both bones in my lower right leg shortly before my fortieth and the grand plan for a feast rather went out the window. My lovely friends rallied round and helped out – I was discharged from hospital the day before – but it wasn't quite the splendid occasion I had had in mind.
These days, I just make carrot cake or lolly cake for the grandchildren's birthdays. That works!