There are many things I love about the south, but one of my favorites revolves around the tradition of weekly family meals. The most common is Sunday lunch after attending worship services together. Until Covid-19 crashed into our world, my family visited various local eateries. The question wasn’t if we were going to eat together, it was where are we going to eat? Sunday lunches were a time to reconnect after the busyness of life; a time to share the important moments, and not so important moments. After lunch we went our separate ways, with our goal of a nap and a long walk.
And then everything changed in March 2020. Countless words have been written, and will continue to be written, until we define what the last year meant to us as a culture. Our lives suddenly shrank into the walls of our homes, and the safety of our vehicles. Going to the grocery store, the gym, worship services, and even our jobs became dangerous for our health. Fear settled over us like a wet blanket, and dictated how we communicate to our neighbors, families, and co-workers. Panic screamed through social media that we’ve all become accustomed to, and the national media fed our fears and starved common sense.
Back on the home front, children still needed schooled, fed, loved and nurtured. The need for income didn’t lesson because of a worldwide pandemic. Each family had to decide what worked for them; how they would navigate the new constraints issued by local and state governments.
Food was common ground for all of us. It became nourishment, comfort, and for some, an outlet to educate and entertain. I spent untold hours watching Brenda Gantt of Andalusia, Alabama, teach how to make perfect biscuits, and on Sunday mornings she cooked lunch from her kitchen for her family before logging into her worship service. What a delight she was with encouragement in the spiritual life as well as our physical need for food.
My family continued to gather on Sundays, but instead of meeting at a restaurant after church, they came to our home. The menu varied from baked salmon, grilled chicken, smoked pork loin, steak, spaghetti, and lasagna, with many different sides and salads. This time together became sacred. No one was in a hurry to leave after we finished eating. We spent time on the porch, swimming in the lake, and coloring at the dining room table when it was too hot to be outside. My son, Andy, brought Morgan to lunch at the end of March, and now she is my daughter-in-law. Our Sundays became a sweet time of bonding as we got to know her and shared family traditions that each of us grew up with.
Food is as individual as the person eating. Many of our conversations revolved around our favorite foods including childhood likes and dislikes. The problems and stresses of living through a pandemic seemed far away on Sundays. Laughter and family stories replaced the sound of television and dreary newscasts. After the kids left each week we sat in the glow of treasured time.
This past year has been trying at times, desperate at other times, but I can’t say I would change anything. The end result was worth every mask, and every panic buy at Sam’s. As for cooking on the internet, there are wonderful cooks out there teaching us how to feed our families home cooked meals, served around the table with real dishes. Traditions are being passed down that remind us of the importance of the family and the many values taught while sitting around the dinner table.
P.S. After I wrote this post, Diane Leary, a much-loved woman I go to church with is sharing her cooking skills on Facebook. You can find her at MeMe’s Recipes. Like and follow her for delicious recipes and helpful cooking tips.
