It was my Dad’s birthday, so he put on a dinner for the family and a few friends. You’d think that someone else would cook, seeing as it was his birthday, but if you’ve ever tasted his food you would see why it’s so easy just to let him do the cooking.
He has the luck of having his birthday at the end of January, which, here, is when the weather is the best it will be all year. While others in the Northern hemisphere are shivering around their fireplaces, wrapped up in winter gear, we in New Zealand are having a tandoor dinner outside in the sun. Feels good.
Dad built this tandoor himself, from scratch – including throwing the inner layer of clay. He also happened to build almost the entire house, and some of the couches, cabinets and cups and bowls. But that’s another story.
Unfortunately I don’t know the recipe to his feast (which is actually a very, very small feast in the spectrum of Dad’s feasts), but maybe if you’re lucky I’ll make it myself one day and share it on here.
For now, though: