From the Heart
For me, family dinners around the table are sacred. My reasons will be explained later in this column.
So when Emily and I were in the dairy aisle in Publix on Tuesday I was surprised when she suggested that we did not need to have a dessert that night when the family would be gathering around our table.
Dessert, for me, is the exclamation point at the end of a good meal. Not having a dessert is like not having grape juice with communion at church. It’s not happening in my home.
I glanced at the pie crusts in the dairy case. (Yes, I can make my own but sometimes you have to take a short cut). Chocolate Cream Pie with huge tips of toasty browned meringue is my go-to dessert whenever I’m debating what to make. After 50 years of making them, it is easy peasy.
So back to the sacredness of family dinners.
I feel it is the time when we shut out all the social distractions and we open up with conversations that fill the heart and soul of our family.
The dinner table is where the thoughts are shared between what is now three generations of our blended bonus families.
Grace is said at the beginning of the meal and grace is given as each person shares their thoughts and feelings.
Peas nor negative or angry words will not be served at my table.
We talk about the news of the day as we scoop mashed potatoes onto our plates.
About the mashed potatoes. They are made with real potatoes, real cream and real butter. Last week, when we arrived in Tampa, I opened up the refrigerator. Were my eyes deceiving me? I saw margarine on the top shelf. Noooooo! For me that is a sin. Not in my refrigerator! Butter only! And lots of it.
If you come to my house, you will be fed. If by chance there are leftovers, you will be taking some home with you. I cook big. When you leave our home, you will be hugged. It’s a Janet rule, kind of like the butter rule.
During our dinners we reminisce with lots of “remember whens?” I feel that the younger generation is fed not only by the meal but by the conversation. They may learn about a few crazy traditions and idiosyncrasies of relatives as well. I call them the spices of the family. Some strong, some sweet, some a bit tangy but they are so much a part of who we are.
There is something about sharing a meal that quiets the hustle and bustle of the day and allows us to savor the moment.
There was lots of laughter and stories and thoughts shared around the table that night.
Everyone enjoyed the exclamation point aka pie. But . . . no one confessed to putting margarine in my refrigerator. Of course I will offer grace to the guilty one.