Leftovers and left-behinds

Should desperance ever propose to hold a dinner party at your house, say "yes." It's worth it for the dinner party alone, of course: the food is always wonderful, and the company a delight. And there's a lot to be said for having to think either about cooking or about cleaning, but not both at once. Friday was exceptional, as desperance explains, because he had prepared so much in advance that we had the pleasure of his company, as well as each other's, but it's always good.

And if you are the host, you get to play with the leftovers. Yesterday there was partridge risotto for lunch, for the four of us, and a little cheese and fruit, and the last of fjm's marrons glacés as a bonne bouche ((I love marrons glacés; I love them more than chocolate, and I don't care who knows it). And last night there were lentils with a little pasta, because we weren't very hungry yet.

In the rush of getting fjm to her train, a carrier bag was left behind, containing various oddments, including the components of the dessert that never was. Some of these will wait, but some are perishable. So I have a rogue cabbage to deal with: "It's good with goose", says desperance, but I don't think I shall be roasting a goose (or even opening a tin of confit) just to find a home for a cabbage. There will be kumquats pickled with orange (though they'll probably be better if we don't eat them with the Christmas ham).

Meanwhile, there are chunks of potato roasting in the tray which still contains the residue from the partridges.

This is my favourite kind of cooking, where you have a certain number of ingredients to be fitted together; I find it much more satisfying than having a wide open choice.