I believe in family dinners. Sundays, holidays, “because I made a big batch of spaghetti sauce” days—any day is a good day to gather with good grub and family.
Growing up, Mom usually cooked our dinners Monday through Saturday. Her creamy beef stroganoff served over hot, buttery egg noodles was the ultimate in comfort food and could make even the most dismal days of winter seem cheerier. Tacos to casseroles, meatloaf to Swiss steak, Mom’s meals weren’t gourmet feasts meant to appease the persnickety palate of a gourmand or grace the cover of Bon Appètit magazine. However, there was always enough to feed anyone who showed up at dinner time, and everyone left with a smile on their face and a belly filled to critical mass. “I have a food baby” was a common complaint (compliment?) heard after dinner.
Sunday dinners were, and still are, my favorite meal of the week. When I was a child, Sunday was when Mom took a break from the kitchen and Dad became the chef du jour. His “formal chef training” came from his soldiering days in Italy. He lived in a small apartment above a mom-and-pop restaurant and never cooked in his own kitchen. When he was off duty, he spent most of his time …show more content…
Next to the dining room table, one or two card tables were set with matching linens and plates, assuring everyone had a place to dig in to dinner. It was (and still is) an unspoken rule that all members of the Smith Clan living within driving distance of my parents’ home attend Sunday family dinner. The same rule applies to holiday meals as well. It wasn’t until years later, early in my marriage, that I ate my first holiday dinner alone with just my husband. It was also the last. It was too quiet, too lonely. Food tastes better when eaten between bites of banter and
Growing up, Mom usually cooked our dinners Monday through Saturday. Her creamy beef stroganoff served over hot, buttery egg noodles was the ultimate in comfort food and could make even the most dismal days of winter seem cheerier. Tacos to casseroles, meatloaf to Swiss steak, Mom’s meals weren’t gourmet feasts meant to appease the persnickety palate of a gourmand or grace the cover of Bon Appètit magazine. However, there was always enough to feed anyone who showed up at dinner time, and everyone left with a smile on their face and a belly filled to critical mass. “I have a food baby” was a common complaint (compliment?) heard after dinner.
Sunday dinners were, and still are, my favorite meal of the week. When I was a child, Sunday was when Mom took a break from the kitchen and Dad became the chef du jour. His “formal chef training” came from his soldiering days in Italy. He lived in a small apartment above a mom-and-pop restaurant and never cooked in his own kitchen. When he was off duty, he spent most of his time …show more content…
Next to the dining room table, one or two card tables were set with matching linens and plates, assuring everyone had a place to dig in to dinner. It was (and still is) an unspoken rule that all members of the Smith Clan living within driving distance of my parents’ home attend Sunday family dinner. The same rule applies to holiday meals as well. It wasn’t until years later, early in my marriage, that I ate my first holiday dinner alone with just my husband. It was also the last. It was too quiet, too lonely. Food tastes better when eaten between bites of banter and