During dinner with friends this past Saturday Josh's mom leaned over to Tony and David asking them what is your favorite meal your mom cooks? Tony readily admitted chicken and rice casserole, David taking his time, and letting me squirm, answered just about anything. On the drive home I thought about my favorite meal my mom cooked. Definitely chicken with snow peas with the best ever gelatin dessert topped with mandarin oranges to complete the feast.
Funny how food evokes memories. Like the seven fishes dinner on Christmas Eve, the dressing that accompanies the turkey at Thanksgiving, the leg of lamb at Easter. For me the dinner that starts a flood of memories is my homemade tomato sauce, pasta and steak. It was Joe's favorite, not necessarily ours, but one he asked for every trip home. I have not made it recently. Maybe the memories are too sensitive now, or maybe I cook different meals as a coping skill of moving past his death. Maybe I don't have the strength to revisit those times when he would dip his bread in the sauce while I was cooking and eat with his fingers from the salad bowl waiting for his heaping portion.
Someday the sauce pan will be retrieved, the tomatoes will be sliced and peppered with seasonings while the pasta simmers and the steaks broil. But for now I will put that meal on the shelf.
No comments:
Post a Comment