Monday, November 7, 2011

Sunday Dinner

"The shared meal elevates eating from a mechanical process of fueling the body to a ritual of family and community, form the mere animal biology to an act of culture." Michael Pollan, In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto

Sunday Dinner should not be a solidary event. 

X is soon off to a new adventure (in more ways than one), so sone last real dinner was in order. Especially when she volunteered to cook. Especially when goat cheese is involved.

We showed up early and crammed ourselves in her small galley kitchen and sauteed pears, chopped up shallots, and rolled and tied with twine a slab of meat.

We set the fire alarm off to let everyone know what kind of party this was.
We ate beef tenderloin stuffed with goat cheese pears and herbs on paper plates, her real plates already packed, and veg drenched with lemon and dill served in a bright blue bowl. We drank sparkling peach flavored juice in borrowed goblets.

For dessert we dished out warm pumpkin crumble on leftover Amish animal plates. The plates were bought on a trip to Amish country. I am not sure of the religious views of the animals themselves.

We talked a lot. We laughed a lot. No one updated their Facebook status, no one sent a text, no one checked their email. The TV and computers were turned off.

A day, or at least an evening of rest.

Monday morning came too soon and I was back to eating breakfast alone standing in my kitchen, staring with dread, out the window at all the leaves that still have to be raked.

Counting down the days until the return of Sunday Dinner.

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