First dinner party distracts from the unpacking

We're to that inevitable stage in a house move.  About 80 per cent of our stuff ... all the bits we really need ... is unpacked.  Then there's the 20 per cent we can live without, piled in boxes in a guest bedroom and the garage.  We had the best intention of continuing through the task.  But the kitchen called instead.

There were six of us around the table for our first dinner party at the new house.  And four others tucked about the house.  We'd been particularly brave and invited friends with children.  Two little ones went to bed upstairs with the starters.  Two older ones turned my office into a playroom.  All conveniently freeing their parents to enjoy themselves.

We started with champagne while picking at quartered figs with prosciutto and honey and tortilla chips served with corn and avocado salsa.  Yes, an unusual combo, but this was supposed to be a casual, simple supper and the produce in the fridge dictated the nibbles.  Just as I suspected, the kitchen island with the double doors behind spilling into the dining room is perfect for entertaining.  I can be cooking at one side of the island while guests talk and graze from the other.

The nibbles might have been simple but the starter sure wasn't.  Once we settled down at the table, Piers presented his smoked salmon mousse with freshly baked rye rolls.  A towering success, I thought.  Rich, smooth and silky fish spread over still warm bread, flavour picked up by the rye flour and a bit of caraway.  Poor Piers had spent 40 minutes pushing the mousse through a fine strainer to get the light consistency, wearing a blister on his thumb in the process.  We really need to buy a food mill.  The fact that we'd broken out a bottle of our Patrick Jevillier meursault from our wedding gift cache helped things along.

The oven was doing the hard work with the pork shoulder, thankfully.  Eight hours slow cooking.  It was tasty, though in the excitement of the guests we forgot to add the white wine or to make the sauce. Unsurprisingly, it was a bit dry.  We ate it as leftovers two nights later, with the sauce, and it was actually much better.  (Hush.  Don't tell our guests.)  On the night itself, some buttery mashed potatoes and spinach added moisture.

I defaulted to one of my simple standbys for dessert:  key lime pie.  No key lime juice here in England, of course, so I use about 20 per cent lemon juice to the remainder lime.  Top with white chocolate shavings and smile.

The sharp, citric pie is light enough to leave room for a cheese board. Essential at the Bencard household.  I do miss our Sainsbury's cheese counter; neither Tesco or M&S, the options at this end of town, have the selection.  M&S' cheese counter got me through, but with fairly traditional selections.  (Mature cheddar, goat, camembert, emmental.)  Must remember to plan a trip across town or special order for more unusual stuff next time.

One consequence of having parental types around the table, with kids in the house, is that the drinking is relatively modest and the departures are early.  We were tucked up in bed by 1am, exhausted but happy.  A good start to what we hope is a long and legendary tradition of dining chez Bencard.