Now I know why I grew up a fat kid. My family is a food family. No, we're not Italian, but we are mostly Greek and all about the food. While I was spending some QT with them this weekend, we all made some fairly interesting observations:
1) When there is a spread out in the kitchen, members of our family gravitate and graze. Entire conversations and gatherings take place around the coldcuts and potato salad. All seven of the J-Clan were in the kitchen munching, while all the other halves were watching TV. For us, food=family.
2) There is always food. Period. What's that? You're hungry? Let me grab about 1 ton of carbohydrates from my pantry on which you can munch. My parents can fill the bellies of a large Bangladeshi township with what is in their kitchen.
3) When my family gathers, the party ends when the food is put away. There could be beer left in the cooler, but it doesn't matter. The crowd will dissapate when you stow away the lasagna.
So when Dave and I arrived home last night from our weekend at S and B's house (by the way, isn't my niece a-friggin'-dorable?) Our dinner consisted of baked chicken breast, brown rice and steamed cauliflower. No dessert, served with mineral water.
I see myself going on a detox diet.
2 comments:
Oops I lost my comment. Testing....
Darn. It told me Blogger was unavailable. So what was I saying?
Greeks and food, yes.
My grandfather was always able to whip up a feast from whatever happened to be in the kitchen, and he always sang while he worked.
My oldest friend's mother in London always has the fridge stocked, and it's always fresh, almost as though it grows in there. She is an expert at making you eat more than you thought you could.
And although my parents are less Greek than yours, the kitchen was the heart of our home. Friends often sat in there on stools at the counter, rather than in the dining room.
Post a Comment