Lunch amongst the flower pots

I packed a little picnic for the nursery trip I took with Joe, one of our gardeners, on Monday.

I had never made these: my Sainted Aunt's asparagus fingers. She used to make them every year for a picnic we would all have in Cape Town, at Maynardville, an open air theatre which stages Shakespeare once a year. The picnic was always the best part of the evening, closely followed by the thermos-hot coffee with a slug of Something in it, at interval.

She put canned white asparagus in them. I could not find any so had to settle (...everything is relative!) for fresh green, which I cooked till barely done. Then, onto the softest, and most terrible-for-you-bread I could find (commercial potato bread in this case), I spread mayonnaise and some cracked pepper. Put a couple of thin spears (one fat one would do) at one end, and rolled. One must place the finished finger seam-side down, in a container which would fit all of them. This keeps them rolled up. It has to be squooshy bread.

They were divine.

I also made a Caesar dressing with a soft boiled egg yolk, anchovies, garlic, lime juice and olive oil...and we dipped Romaine leaves into this. Then we got impatient and just poured.

Chicken wings were dipped in melted butter, coated with flour, nutmeg, mustard seeds and ground coriander, salt and pepper and baked until crispy.

We sat on upturned flower pots in a big commercial wholesale nursery, balancing our plates and napkins on our laps, with two more pots as tables, and must have looked pretty funny.