Sunday Dinners
It's the stuff of legend, the magic moments of the good 'ole days. I remember the stories my mom used to tell of those lazy Sunday afternoons out at her aunt and uncle's farm. Of fried chicken, homemade biscuits, corn on the cob, and apple pie. Those dinners that filled the belly so full, the only thing left to do was to sit and play cards, sip iced tea, and wait out digestion.
And it doesn't happen too often these days, because for one reason or another families are "too busy" to sit down together to a home-cooked meal. But you can still find them, and when you do, they're nothing short of magic. There's just nothing more special or more satisfying than a big Sunday dinner. And yesterday that very magic took place in our own kitchen.
I could sense it Saturday. I'm not sure if it was a scent in the air, the bright sunshine gleaming through our kitchen windows, or even the date on our calendar. But you could tell that spring was just around the corner, and it set my mind in motion. I pulled out a tiny "greenhouse" and explained to the boys how we would soon start our vegetable and flower gardens from seed, right on our window sill! I scrubbed our kitchen floor and opened blinds and windows to let in more light. I envisioned my little Samuel in a smart tuxedo, delivering the essential "hardware" to a special bride and groom for my baby brother's April wedding. Winter is on the retreat and Spring is moving in!
A change in season always brings a change of menu at our house. As the temperatures rise outside, we set aside the winter "comfort food" and enjoy cooking over the open flame. So on Sunday Steve set out to refill our dwindling propane supply, and we pulled a couple thick, juicy steaks out of hibernation from our freezer.
As a side note, we have found that Sam's Club supplies good quality meats at competitive prices. For now, Sam's suits us well. We don't eat a lot of red meat, and are able to stock up on a variety of meats and freeze them for future use. Still, one day we will be feeding quite a brood of hungry, growing adolescents, and our buying habits will need to adjust. Lucky for us, Steve's folks up in North Dakota raise cattle, so one day we may just have to strap one of those cows to our luggage rack on the trip home!
Sunday was overcast and not as "springy" as the prior day, but we were determined to carry through with our steak dinner. The big boys spent the afternoon playing in the backyard with the neighbors, and Steve set about his grilling ritual. Let me tell you a thing or two about my dear husband. When he gets out his meat and fire, you better not stand in the way! I started to notice his, um, condition shortly after we were married, around the time we were expecting our first son. Perhaps it was the influence that the great state of Texas had on our taste buds, or the mesquite trees in the countryside near our home. Most likely it also stemmed from man's innate desire to hunt and provide for his family. And I know that the "Barbecue Bible" he received for Christmas that year only added fuel to the fire! Anyway, the fact is that when Steve is preparing to grill, the air thickens with a sense of urgency. All the side dishes must be ready, the table set, condiments lined up, hands washed, and mouths ready to eat before those steaks come off the grill... My loving husband will put up with nearly anything, but the one thing he cannot tolerate, the one thing he loathes, is a cold steak. So be you forewarned if ever you come for a barbecue... it's all in the timing!
During these special meal preparations, the sliding door between our kitchen and the deck gets a good workout. Fortunately on this particular February afternoon, we didn't have any problems with sneaky houseflies (which can spoil an otherwise perfect meal.) A couple of the kids came in, sniffing the air and smacking their lips. Believe you me, there is nothing like the smell of sweaty-boy-who-had-been-playing-hard-outside! I'll never forget the smell of my brothers after a friendly game of outdoor soccer... phew! Well, now I have four of those stinky boys roaming around my kitchen, and it gives a major blow to the appetite! So we kindly directed Mr. David to the bathtub, as he is old enough to handle such things on his own. Soon after, we discovered two others had joined him:
Zachy was growing very impatient, as we forbade him from joining the other boys outdoors, and Mom and Dad were deep in dinner preparation. Finally, he seemed content to sit and munch on a stick of celery, and only fussed in frustration when the stringy celery spine became lodged between his two front teeth.
Finally we sat down, together, to the best Sunday dinner I have enjoyed in a long time. Thick, juicy, sirloins with just the right amount of mesquite smoke, Mom's homemade bread, tangy fattoush salad, crispy crudités, instant mashed potatoes (well, something's gotta give!) and chocolaty, chewy brownies to top it all off! There was nothing fancy about it. The plates didn't match; heck, most of them were plastic! Most of the boys were already in their PJ's, but we were lucky that they were dressed at all! They were so wound up that real conversation was out of the question. Sammy clapped his hands in excitement as Steve cut up his portion: "Daddy, I want somma dat shicken! Can I pwease have some dat shicken, Daddy?" (Crazy Kansas boy doesn't know birds from bovine.) And David entertained us with his jokes: "Let's pretend you're a pig. And you eat some pork. Then I'm gonna say, 'Hey, you're eating yourself!' Ha, ha, ha! Was that funny, Mommy?" Incredible, David. Did you make that up yourself? And by the grace of God alone, all five boys remained seated for the entire dinner. By the time we were done, as usual, there was more food on the floor than on the table (especially under Zachy's highchair.) So much for my floor scrubbing, but our family feast was well worth the mess.
So while we don't own a farm, and though our little kitchen space seems to keep growing smaller and more cramped, we are still capable of those magical Sunday dinners. There is something to be said of a weekend spent in anticipation of twenty delicious minutes together, of the chaos that ensues beforehand, and of the temporary silence as five growing boys hungrily devour their "meat and potatoes." It's plain and simple, but there is nothing more special to me.
And it doesn't happen too often these days, because for one reason or another families are "too busy" to sit down together to a home-cooked meal. But you can still find them, and when you do, they're nothing short of magic. There's just nothing more special or more satisfying than a big Sunday dinner. And yesterday that very magic took place in our own kitchen.
I could sense it Saturday. I'm not sure if it was a scent in the air, the bright sunshine gleaming through our kitchen windows, or even the date on our calendar. But you could tell that spring was just around the corner, and it set my mind in motion. I pulled out a tiny "greenhouse" and explained to the boys how we would soon start our vegetable and flower gardens from seed, right on our window sill! I scrubbed our kitchen floor and opened blinds and windows to let in more light. I envisioned my little Samuel in a smart tuxedo, delivering the essential "hardware" to a special bride and groom for my baby brother's April wedding. Winter is on the retreat and Spring is moving in!
A change in season always brings a change of menu at our house. As the temperatures rise outside, we set aside the winter "comfort food" and enjoy cooking over the open flame. So on Sunday Steve set out to refill our dwindling propane supply, and we pulled a couple thick, juicy steaks out of hibernation from our freezer.
As a side note, we have found that Sam's Club supplies good quality meats at competitive prices. For now, Sam's suits us well. We don't eat a lot of red meat, and are able to stock up on a variety of meats and freeze them for future use. Still, one day we will be feeding quite a brood of hungry, growing adolescents, and our buying habits will need to adjust. Lucky for us, Steve's folks up in North Dakota raise cattle, so one day we may just have to strap one of those cows to our luggage rack on the trip home!
Sunday was overcast and not as "springy" as the prior day, but we were determined to carry through with our steak dinner. The big boys spent the afternoon playing in the backyard with the neighbors, and Steve set about his grilling ritual. Let me tell you a thing or two about my dear husband. When he gets out his meat and fire, you better not stand in the way! I started to notice his, um, condition shortly after we were married, around the time we were expecting our first son. Perhaps it was the influence that the great state of Texas had on our taste buds, or the mesquite trees in the countryside near our home. Most likely it also stemmed from man's innate desire to hunt and provide for his family. And I know that the "Barbecue Bible" he received for Christmas that year only added fuel to the fire! Anyway, the fact is that when Steve is preparing to grill, the air thickens with a sense of urgency. All the side dishes must be ready, the table set, condiments lined up, hands washed, and mouths ready to eat before those steaks come off the grill... My loving husband will put up with nearly anything, but the one thing he cannot tolerate, the one thing he loathes, is a cold steak. So be you forewarned if ever you come for a barbecue... it's all in the timing!
During these special meal preparations, the sliding door between our kitchen and the deck gets a good workout. Fortunately on this particular February afternoon, we didn't have any problems with sneaky houseflies (which can spoil an otherwise perfect meal.) A couple of the kids came in, sniffing the air and smacking their lips. Believe you me, there is nothing like the smell of sweaty-boy-who-had-been-playing-hard-outside! I'll never forget the smell of my brothers after a friendly game of outdoor soccer... phew! Well, now I have four of those stinky boys roaming around my kitchen, and it gives a major blow to the appetite! So we kindly directed Mr. David to the bathtub, as he is old enough to handle such things on his own. Soon after, we discovered two others had joined him:
(Now, how will David eat steak with that big hole in his mouth?)
Finally we sat down, together, to the best Sunday dinner I have enjoyed in a long time. Thick, juicy, sirloins with just the right amount of mesquite smoke, Mom's homemade bread, tangy fattoush salad, crispy crudités, instant mashed potatoes (well, something's gotta give!) and chocolaty, chewy brownies to top it all off! There was nothing fancy about it. The plates didn't match; heck, most of them were plastic! Most of the boys were already in their PJ's, but we were lucky that they were dressed at all! They were so wound up that real conversation was out of the question. Sammy clapped his hands in excitement as Steve cut up his portion: "Daddy, I want somma dat shicken! Can I pwease have some dat shicken, Daddy?" (Crazy Kansas boy doesn't know birds from bovine.) And David entertained us with his jokes: "Let's pretend you're a pig. And you eat some pork. Then I'm gonna say, 'Hey, you're eating yourself!' Ha, ha, ha! Was that funny, Mommy?" Incredible, David. Did you make that up yourself? And by the grace of God alone, all five boys remained seated for the entire dinner. By the time we were done, as usual, there was more food on the floor than on the table (especially under Zachy's highchair.) So much for my floor scrubbing, but our family feast was well worth the mess.
Daddy says now I get my bath!
So while we don't own a farm, and though our little kitchen space seems to keep growing smaller and more cramped, we are still capable of those magical Sunday dinners. There is something to be said of a weekend spent in anticipation of twenty delicious minutes together, of the chaos that ensues beforehand, and of the temporary silence as five growing boys hungrily devour their "meat and potatoes." It's plain and simple, but there is nothing more special to me.
LOVE it, Michelle!!!
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