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.
