The day after Christmas, the store aisles instantly turn red and pink, and hearts start popping up everywhere. And then on February 14, heart-shaped boxes of chocolates are given to loved ones, chalky heart candies with messages are exchanged in schools, heart-themed desserts are shared on Pinterest and entire paychecks are spent on heart-shaped diamond-studded jewelry … all in the name of saying “I heart someone!”
If there was ever a moment I desperately wanted on camera, it was when I discovered my daughter and niece taking part in a May crowning ceremony they had put together in our backyard.
I love bread. All bread. I think I could live on it. Which is why in the book of Matthew (4:4) Christ reminds me – no, Michelle, one cannot live on bread alone. Which is good because there are times when I think I might otherwise try it.
I wonder if that is where bruschetta came from. Italians make amazing bread. And sure, one can’t live on bread alone, but slice it, toast it, adorn it with flavorful olive oil and various toppings and … perhaps now we have something we can live on? If you love bruschetta as I do, once again, you’d be tempted to try!
On the weekends my kids usually request waffles for breakfast. Not the easy ones you throw into a toaster, but the ones made in a real waffle iron that you have to stand over… for several minutes at a time… and then painstakingly clean afterwards. Don’t get me wrong, as much as I enjoy cooking and baking, I sometimes opt for the shortcut toaster variety, so I can use my weekend to work on other projects.
But recently, my perspective on taking shortcuts in certain areas of my domestic life has changed a little.
We recently hosted dinner for two of our parish priests, and in the minutes before they were due to show up, I was frantically finishing up the appetizers. With an eye toward presentation, I meticulously arranged the crackers and veggies both spatially and by color, and garnished the dip with a sprig of dill. When I was satisfied with the display, I carefully set the tray out … only to have my 11-year-old son dive in like a ravenous vulture. So much for the carefully crafted presentation!
A short time ago, I met up with a couple of friends for coffee at a small café, and ordered an egg tart. I wasn’t too excited about my choice, but it ended up being really tasty, so I went home to search online for recipe ideas to make my own. I came across a woman’s food blog, which featured a delicious-looking Portuguese egg custard tart. But my attention turned quickly from food to the place where she discovered it – in a small town just outside of Fatima, Portugal.
My daughter once asked me, “Mom, what is the best thing that’s ever happened to you?” I immediately answered with what most parents would say, “Well, of course, the day you were born!”
My child asks me if lobster are fish. I say no, they are crustaceans.
He asks me then why they are called “shellfish,” and suggests they are fish just crammed inside of shells. I don’t have enough energy to engage on the topic, so I reply not with an answer, but with a question. “Why do you need to know?”
“Because we can’t eat meat for Lent, but we can eat fish and if lobster are fish, we are all set.”
A year ago, on the eve of Fat Tuesday, I came across a table full of assorted boxes of Paczki at my local grocery store. Wanting to treat my family, I seized the opportunity to buy a box of six. But I quickly realized there were several different fillings to choose from. I was overwhelmed. All of them sounded delicious, so I ended up grabbing four boxes. Yes, it was gluttonous.
A few years ago, I remember going through my 7-year-old son’s backpack and finding an egg carton with little objects in each cavity. One by one, I began to take them out and study them — a tree twig, a plastic star, a ladder made from toothpicks and so on. When I asked him for an explanation, he told me all about the “Jesse tree” that he created in class.