Sunday Dinner

[phaelon56]

No stories or recipes - just the menu. We ate dinner every Sunday in the home of my paternal grandparents. They were very poor but refused to accept any assistance from their children due to inherent pride and a long standing sense of independence. I can recall stopping into a neighborhood market on my way to school as a child , visiting my grandfather, who worked there as a butcher. He had returned to work at age 70 because they could no longer exist on their meager Social Security checks.

Sunday dinner:

Jello mold salad made with blackberry, raspberry or cherry gelatine

Saltine crackers with sharp cheddar cheese

Baked beans

Boiled hot dogs

White bread

Nance's mustard

Yellow pan cake with chocolate frosting

Every single Sunday from as early as I can remember (age 3 or 4) until I left for college. No wonder I frequent eGulelt and constantly seek out new taste experiences

[birder53]

My maternal grandmother owned the two family house I grew up in. She usually ate dinner in her own apartment except on Sundays. Sunday dinners were special. Everyone was dressed up from Mass and required to stay that way for the day. My parents cooked together. The meal was always a roast ( whatever was on sale that week at the local butcher), gravy, mashed potatoes ( sometimes those wonderful White Rose potatoes roasted with the meat!) frozen french cut stringbeans, bread (probably wonder bread) and butter. On Sundays my parents had cocktails and we were allowed our one bottle of soda and one bag of potato chips (all split among four kids) before dinner. We took turns among the four kids in picking out the flavor of soda each week. Desserts ranged from nothing to home made (okay - Duncan Hines) angel food cake with fresh whipped cream or - canned fruit cocktail. Sunday was also the day Mom tackled the NY Times crossword. We would all sit together before dinner with our drinks and chips waiting for her to ask for a three letter work for little river or some other new word we had learned through these weekly sessions. My grandmother just enjoyed spending this time with us. Good memories.

My paternal grandmother rarely invited us for dinner. We lived about one mile away, so she would invite those who lived further away for dinner and we would join to visit after dessert. On the few occassions we ate with her it was memorable for how bad it was. Everything was cooked to death - meat and veggies. Her speciality was pearl onions in a cream sauce, which was not appealing to an 8 year old! No one was allowed to leave the table until they had cleaned their plate. The atmosphere in that house was alway tense. My father referred to his mother as an "old battle ax". My grandfather was a "dry drunk." Everyone was afraid of him and most of his nine children were active drunks! We were very lucky not to be included in regular Sunday dinners at this house!

The Sunday dinner tradition was then picked up by my Italian mother-in-law - be there Sunday at 1:00 or else! She was a great cook and I looked forward to these meals. I haven't found a red sauce to compare to hers anywhere! Since she passed away and everyone has moved farther away from each other we only get together with his family on special occasions.

Life has changed and so has Sunday traditions!

[formerly grueldelux]

but the real point is to give thanks for the 49 Sundays per year when we're all blessedly apart.

Seeing there are many people with kids off fighting the war, I am sure they'd differ with your opinion. I am part of a very small clan myself, due to deaths, and to the fact that sis took hubbie and kids and moved to FL. So...for some of us, sharing time with people who are our flesh and blood--those whom I love, and who love me, is very special to me. If you find yourself at the kids' table, it's no wonder why.

Our kids' table is reserved for those who don't recognize black humor.

[suzz]

Thanks to all of you for the wonderful stories. I may reach out to some of you NJ natives if you're interested in elaborating/sharing recipes for the article.

Keep those families eating!

[Mabelline]

My fondest memories of Sunday are the interaction of family, kin, clan, and friends. I remember stuff like my mom and dad having a water duel, and my gram-who was quite laconic--coming undone when she set fire to a tea towel...the monstrous fish my uncle brought up from the crick just as we were about to sit. No matter how poor we may have been, our Sundays were a set table with every good piece of dining accutrement -sp?- we possessed.

I try to carry this on, and Sunday is a day for friend or foe to set it down, be civilized, and eat up. This is a sacred thing to me, and I may cook for two days before, when we don't even expect anyone. It always works out, it's always consumed, and we are always blessed by the tradition.

Tell you what, a ChiliDog Fiesta in the middle of winter'll do the same for ya. Try it, you'll buy it.