Sunday night
supper has a long tradition in my family. When I was young, my mom rolled her
tea table into the living room and put it before the fireplace. The three of us—my
parents and me (my brother was away by then)—enjoyed light suppers, such dishes
as cheese strata or spinach souffle. No cell phones to banish—we enjoyed each
other’s company.
When my children were
young, I did Sunday supper for the family, including my brother, John, and his
children (he was single by then too) and whatever people I thought were alone.
Some of my good friends fondly talk of those dinners with 15-20 people. I
cooked huge meals—turkey breast Wellington is one recipe I recall. A lot of
casseroles. I remember one night when we were working on a cookbook at my
office, and I brought home a recipe for a hamburger/cornbread casserole and
fixed it. My brother looked at me and asked, “Sis, is the budget the problem?”
Another night as
we sat around after dinner the alarm service called to tell him his house was
on fire. He lived just down the street and arrived barely in time to keep the
firemen from taking an axe to his front door. He’d left chicken livers
simmering on the stove and they’d burned dry.
John used to go
around the table and ask each of us to tell about our week or what we were
thankful for. It led to some embarrassed moments, but today those dinners are
golden memories that I treasure. Maybe we should start that again, even though
our dinners are on a small scale.
Today, Sunday
night suppers are more hit and miss. Jordan and I try for them, and most
Sundays we have supper. Christian and I alternate cooking. Tonight, he was busy
decorating the Christmas tree, and I cooked a sausage quiche—they liked it, but
it’s not a recipe I’ll repeat or share. I made sauerkraut just for me (no one
else would try it)—bacon, onions caramelized in the bacon drippings, a bit of
white wine, a tiny bit of brown sugar. Delicious. So glad I didn’t have to
share. Jacob had gone to a church event.
When my kids were young
the only excuse for missing Sunday night supper was a restaurant job and a
scheduled shift. That doesn’t hold true today, and we often have supper without
Jacob. And sometimes we don’t have a formal supper at all. If I wanted to wax
nostalgic about the lost past, I would. But I am grateful for what we have and
the dinners we enjoy. Next recipe? Chicken in a creamy Parmesan sauce. It was a
recipe for pork chops, but a friend of Jordan’s said it would be great with
chicken. I think I’ll let Christian cook that one.
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