the family dinner

An article reported that being locked in during the COVID-19 crisis has brought back the family dinner.

People have been so rushed be it from work or going from activity to activity that the members seldom have time to sit down together for a meal, even when a parent has time to cook, which could be infrequent.

Leo Buscaglia, Dr. Love talked about growing up in a big Italian family where Mama put on a good meal, kids had to wash their hands, but they had to bring some fact to the table to discuss.

My grandmother did most of the cooking. She was a plain old fashioned New England cook. Meals could include vegetables from the garden, leftovers from Sunday lunch, some home made dessert. My mother was more of a gourmet cook and her meals were frequent. No matter who cooked I remember discussing everything possible. I remember the pewter pitcher with cold water. It is now in my Nest in France.

We weren't a family that said grace. As a six-year old eating at a friend's house one Sunday, I was invited to say grace and I had no idea what they were talking about. The mother, seeing my embarrassment, took over.

My ex and I would make it point to eat together all nights he wasn't on duty. He was a cop. He hated to eat in restaurants, something I loved. We used the time to catch upon our day's events, make plans, talk about just a bit of everything.

When I lived with another couple for a decade plus, we would all get home from work, have a cup of tea and decide on dinner. All of us were good cooks, but often we would go out to eat having a long list of favorite restaurants in the Boston/Brookline/Waltham/Cambridge area.

There were many night between people working late and two of the three of us working on degrees that we weren't together. My daughter, once we moved into Boston, lived with friends where the school system was better. I'd leave her on a Monday morning, try and have a date with her Wednesday night and pick her up Friday night.

Friday night became "Family Night" and it was sacrosanct. We would eat at some Harvard Square restaurant, go to bookstores to pick up the week's reading and listen to street musicians.

Since we were renovating the townhouse where we lived and most weekends were spent, either stripping paint, re-plastering or myriad other repairs, Sundays were important meals to have together. While we worked, someone would be cooking a pot of spaghetti, a soup, whatever they felt like. Our neighbor across the street would often join us at the end of the day, a relaxing end to a work-filled weekend.

Once Llara and I lived on our own in a condo down the street from the townhouse, we usually ate at night. I did more of the cooking, but every now and then she would produce a meal. The situation changed decades later when she was living with me as an adult and job hunting in Geneva. I'd come home to great meals. I'd cook on the weekend. Having to cook 7/7 takes all the pleasure away.

Our meals were often shared with families who lived on the same floor and we enjoyed extended Indian, Syrian, English and Czech family meals.

Rick and I decided we should share cooking. His days are Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday. He puts on a huge Sunday breakfast so good, that we've invited people in place of a normal dinner party. My days are Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Sunday evening.

As writers working at home, out big meal is lunch. We try and make it nutritious, attractive and pleasant. We may include music, eat on the patio or sometimes even in front of the television. There are the days (pre-virus) when Rick, more than me but I do it too, when we say, "I'm cooking at LaNoisette or Flowers or Marro or any other restaurant we enjoy" and happily we trot down the street leaving us free to chat away as we enjoy our food.

So for us lockdown hasn't changed much when it comes to family meals, family sharing. It stays a part of the day where sharing is more than "pass the bread, please."