sunday supper

 It’s been 581 days since the pandemic started… yes, 83 weeks have gone by and still life is not back to the way it was - I’ll not say ‘normal’ as that is shifting week by week. We still weigh the risks and exposures when gathering with people and still avoid crowded spaces. Perhaps that will be ‘normal’ going forward.

I’m afraid that this year and a half of restriction has gotten us out of the habit of gathering with friends on a regular basis. The weeks and months of practice have made us self sufficient.

It’s a dreary day, clouds heavy with the threat of rain, but I’m bright and reasonably cheerful. I started off my lazy day reading an excerpt of Stanley Tucci’s new book. It inspired me to get out the stand mixer to make a few loaves of our favorite bread. Kneading a ball of elastic dough evokes a feeling of hippie warmth. Bread fresh from the oven is the taste of home.

He talked about his mother’s ‘Sunday Supper ragu’ which must have been every Italian’s Sunday table. When he was young Carm’s family gathered for this traditional meal.  Coincidentally a ragu is on our menu for tonight. The sauce is already made but I’ll brown some little riblets and simmer them in the sauce for a while before adding the already made meatballs and finally the pasta (spaghetti tonight I think). (the instant pot will make it a one pot meal! The pasta soaks up flavour from the sauce, oh yeah baby!)

The excerpt ended… I’ll see if the book goes on sale before buying it. In google books I searched for other writings about food and stumbled across Julia Child’s ‘My Life in France’. The excerpt inspired more time in the kitchen. And it’s been added to my wish list.

Julia’s book mentioned blue airmail letter paper which drove me to the basement to unearth the box labeled ‘Old Letters’. I haven’t delved into that treasure trove for years and was delighted to find the script from my first and only acting role. In grade 6 while we were living in England the class put on ‘Animal Farm’ which was a reasonably dark book for 11 year olds! My role of Clover the horse highlighted that I was a lousy actor and in retrospect the only reason I was chosen was my exotic accent!

Other letters reminded me of friends long lost and times forever gone. The immature writing travelled me to the mid 70s, luckily I was able to return to the here and now.

A few old aptitude tests and IQ tests were shuffled among the stamps and envelopes. I had to laugh that my worst score was spelling!

I did an experiment with the bread, inspired by photos of focaccia.

I think I’ll make Sunday supper a thing this winter.

Awesome!

“grey drizzly day which is awesome in it’s own way”

“Adia running circles around us - pure joy on 4 legs”

“realizing that I’ve mastered the proper quote key on my dastardly keyboard”

“picking a few cherry tomatoes - yes! Still!”

“reading books about food and cooking”

“laughing at the immature prose of a 12 year old”

“reminiscing over supper”