Spring Salmagundi: A Shared Feast for the Season.
A communal Easter board of lamb, herbs, and early vegetables
Last Easter, I wanted to do something different.
Not another roast carved at the kitchen counter while everyone waited politely at the table.
I wanted something placed in the centre.
A showstopper — yes. But more than that, something communal.
I had come across the idea of a spring salmagundi: a long wooden board layered with lamb, the first vegetables of the season, boiled eggs, herbs, dressing pooling between everything. It felt slightly theatrical. Almost old-fashioned. Abundant in a way winter meals rarely are.
So I made it.
Blushing slices of lamb arranged without too much precision. New potatoes still warm. Asparagus piled loosely. Radishes for bite. Eggs halved and dusted with salt. Mint scattered at the last minute. A sharp dressing spooned generously over everything.
It was not neat.
It spilled.
And when I carried it to the table and placed it down between us all, something shifted.
We leaned in.
Plates were passed. Hands reached. Conversation loosened.
For the first time hosting Easter, I felt proud. I felt like I belonged at that table.
There is something ancient about placing abundance in the middle of a room — steam rising, hands reaching, voices overlapping.
When everyone had relaxed into the afternoon, I brought out a warming seasonal dessert.
Rhubarb crumble — sharp and sweet and forgiving — the first forced rhubarb of the year folded through softened apples. Nothing dramatic. Just warm bowls and cream passed quietly from hand to hand.
It wasn’t elaborate.
But it felt like a celebration.
And that, I think, is what I was really seeking.
Belonging.