Don’t get me wrong here. I’m not complaining. I am grateful for food; three meals a day; a grocery store minutes from our house with produce from around the world.
But wow. With no community gatherings, family reunions, concerts, farmer’s markets, school events, or traveling, dinner has become the thing. And I don’t mean a droolingly anticipated event each night. No, my zest and zeal for cooking went out the door long ago. Something about knowing that it’s the only thing we “do” together has made it a little duller rather than a little funner. Probably because I’m the one who does it, and my creativity has just plumb run out.
Dinner’s always been there. Just like breakfast and lunch. It’s nothing new, but now that it’s no longer the thing we come home to after a big day out in the world, it tends to loom heavier in my mind. Something about it’s being the main event each evening – in the same place I’ve been all day – has given it an obligatory vibe.
Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m blowing it. Am I wasting all of my nightly chances to cook up feasts that could be remembered for years to come? Could the word “pandemic” be synonymous with “delicious” in my children’s minds someday when they think back on this time in their lives if I were to do an about-face and make unforgettable spreads from around the world? Probably.
Dinner will one day regain its rightful association with celebration rather than being a lackluster presentation of sustenance items. Until then, I will work on my culinary attitude.
Growing up, each week, one of us kids would have a night where we would have to plan, shop for (parents of course paid) and cook a meal for the family. It was a good experience for everyone.
I love that, Cindy! I’m in!