Sunday Dinner: Writing 101

What dinners look like now that my husband does the cooking!

I have fond memories of Sunday dinners at my grandparents’ house in Lemon Grove, a suburb of San Diego. We only lived about a mile away, so every Sunday for several years, we would drive over to their house in the late afternoon and visit until dinner was ready.

When we were much younger, my grandma cooked elaborately, often cooking ham with homemade gravy and mashed potatoes. She would set the dining room table and we would all sit down and enjoy the meal.

By the time we were teens, the Sunday dinners morphed into buckets of Kentucky Fried Chicken with sides. In the summers, we would eat dinner under the covered back patio surrounded by fragrant night-blooming jasmine and honeysuckle.

Shortly after dinner, we would gather in front of the television and watch “The Wonderful World of Disney.” So old-school.

When I turned 19 years old, my beloved grandmother passed away at age 62 from uterine cancer. With her passing and our busy young adult lives, dinners there were few and far-between.

My grandfather was pretty independent and liked those old jello-mold looking salads you could buy in the deli section at the grocery store. He loved a green jellied concoction that held yummy surprises like pistachios and probably cole slaw. I never tried it. He also loved the jellied cranberry sauce that I dubbed “grandpa sauce” when I was five years old (or so I was told).

Even though he passed in 1996, we still call it grandpa sauce to this day.

Day 10: Happy “Event”
Today’s Prompt: Tell us something about your favorite childhood meal — the one that was always a treat, that meant “celebration,” or that comforted you and has deep roots in your memory. Free free to focus on any aspect of the meal, from the food you ate to the people who were there to the event it marked.

Today’s twist: Tell the story in your own distinct voice.

23 Comments on “Sunday Dinner: Writing 101

  1. There’s nothing like a good home-cooked meal from your childhood. I remember eating a similar type of meal on a Sunday as a child. Through one thing and another, it just doesn’t happen now. But there’s really nothing like it. There’s a certain comfort in it, I think.

    Liked by 1 person

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