Dinner is family time and always was at our house when I was young. My mother was always upset when my athletic practices threatened family dinner hour. We all had to tell about our day and always had to be excused from the table with parental permission. Please, may I be excused. I have to do my homework.
Today, I feel bad for parents who never had that experience, and for their children who will not learn it from them. This was our one time per day when everyone had to be there. It grounded us, solidified us as a family. Even in my cranky teen years when I ate three peanut butter sandwiches before dinner (I weighed 90 lbs, and worked out at least three hours per day), I appreciated sitting down, all six of us.
One night when I was normally away at college we decided to name our favorite meals, which descended into rating Mom’s cooking over the past years. She was devastated when Dad said a couple of meals she thought were his favorites, he hated! Whoops, bad move everyone. We all felt terrible about it because Mom was a good cook and learned new recipes from Gourmet every month!
Now my husband says I’ve made him a “food snob.” I originally asked him to tell me what he likes and doesn’t like (allergic to fish) but now he tastes something and says it could be better, or that when I try something new I usually “get it” on the third attempt. I’m thinking the “little white lie” may be better, as in “it could have used more ABC or XYZ.” I love cooking for Jim and family and friends.
Wednesday evening he wanted something to give 20 colleagues for helping his team out. He came home early with a cold and asked if I could make a Trifle. I said OK and went to two stores and got up at 6:00 in the morning to assemble this dessert in time for a 9:00 meeting. I put his cereal and berries, tea and juice by his placemat across from me on the kitchen island. As I scrambled to finish this lemon curd, hand-whipped cream, pound cake (I didn’t make that) and berry trifle with pomegranate seeds he said:
“Thanks, that’s so much easier than me going to buy a box of doughnuts.”
Easier for whom, one might ask. I also walked the dog, fed the dog and fish, and got his breakfast ready. Well, today even his mother called him spoiled. Problem is, I’m probably the one who spoiled him as he grew up milking cows and that’s not an easy life. Today his life makes my life possible and the opposite is true as well. He’d be living in a cave, not doing laundry and eating at Denny’s or Chili’s every day.
Yes, I did create a food snob. There’s no going back now. When one spends 20 minutes or four hours to make dinner for a loved one, the worst thing that loved one can say is “it could be better.” Cheers, Dee
Cooking with Dee 