Is the moment when people gather around the table, eat and smile, small taking about unimportant casualties or discussing the hardest moment of their current, temporary life. I hated Sunday meals, because of the chicken soup, because of the empty plates expected after you fill in yourself with food, a lot of food, too much food, because I never prepare them and they were always ready when I was not. And because they always finish up with cake, what a horror! Sunday meals were the weekly burden that I was always fed up with, and which probably other kids would dream about.
I started to appreciate Sunday meals when I did not have them anymore. The Sundays were free, unrestrictive, but lonely without a ritual. I could not put my finger on what was missing from my Sundays, until I have once been invite to an after-Sunday meal to my then boyfriend house. I saw the chicken soup, the second dish with potatoes and I realized that that was it. The Sunday meal was actually missing from my ritual. I went a few more times to after-Sunday meal to eat in my then boyfriend house, but I never enjoyed with him the Sunday meals rituals.
I settle down in the mean time at my own place, I cook from time to time, but I still did not fully implement the Sunday meal ritual. Sometimes I am busy, other times I forget, not always I feel like, but there are also the days when I cook something great, I accompany it with a glass of wine and I just enjoy it. Maybe I would like to have the Sunday lunch-dinner regularly shared with the people I currently share my life, but I still do not bake the cake.