THE ART OF FRIDAY NIGHT DINNER ELEANOR STEAFEL

What starter, main and pudding would you take to a desert island? Well, pasta for starters…

‘OK, tell me, what’s your desert island meal?” My friends are so fed up with being asked this question. Given half the chance, I will ask anyone what three courses they would take to a desert island.

You see, I think you can tell a lot about a person from their answer. Mum’s roast chicken and a glass of red? Honest, warm, centred. Fillet steak topped with foie gras and lobster with a side of truffle fries and litre of champagne? Terrible show-off who doesn’t really appreciate proper food. A friend once answered “three portions of porridge”. Purely, she reasoned, because oats would be the most useful ingredient to bring with her to the island. (She’s Scottish, the Presbyterian force is strong.)

My picks are all about memories, of special evenings at home and summer holidays with family and friends. Eating them conjures up the sound of laughing and clinking. My main would be seafood – oysters, crab, prawns, langoustines – with homemade aioli, lemon, French bread and salty butter (and, let’s be honest, some chips thrown in for good measure). For pud it’s got to be ice cream – probably just a good vanilla with proper chocolate sauce and whipped cream.

The starter absolutely has to be pasta, but it’s the only course I waiver over. I’m loyal to my mum’s tomato sauce, but there is something so romantic about spaghetti vongole. It’s the dish my best friend Rosie and I will order if it’s on the menu. It’s how we saw in her 28th birthday earlier this week, eating great mounds of spaghetti, washed down with rosé and too much cake. If the island looks anything like this, sign me up – I can think of worse ways to while away the rest of my days.