Devilled eggs, jersey royals with watercress, honey-baked ham – Florence Knight serves up a spring feast rooted in nostalgia
Early on Easter morning, I’ll be hiding eggs to continue a tradition that has been in our family for as long as I can remember. Our egg hunt starts with a riddle, to be puzzled over before charging across the dewy grass to search among the bushes and flower pots for a yellow crepe paper parcel filled with foil-wrapped chocolate. The negotiations on just how much chocolate is too much will be another tradition that I continue with my own children.
Much of my cooking is rooted in the memories of our family kitchen. They’re sensory memories: not only the practical, hands-on skills that began clumsily and are now second nature, but the deeper sense of being involved, of creating something and of new flavours.
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