Dining is a mischievous concept. I am reminded of this amongst the loud voices and brisk, palpable energy of the holiday season. Although dining usually has humble beginnings at home with family, it finds a way to transform itself upon entry into a restaurant. Each night, as the energy of the holidays increases, so do sentimental sensations that awaken my heart. Dining has been a journey in my life.
The first table I recall is from home. A small table where mismatched cushions gave each seat a bit of comfort, canning jars were the glass of choice and paper napkins got the job done. It was the type of table where a single working mother could be proud to seat the four of us. I can still feel the plastic tablecloth sticking to my elbows on a warm day, my face sweating from the steam of hot mashed potatoes.
My mother was always the last to sit. She prepared each meal with care, strategically planning her day so that dinner would unfold every night at 7 o’clock. She taught the fundamentals of hospitality - care and hard work - without preaching. Granted, it was childhood, and the memories make this table seem larger than a king's, but it was here that a grand idea began for me. Dining means something to everybody, but for me it was not a meal of ordinary pot roast and canned green beans. It was spectacle each night featuring a talented cook, charming maître’d and knowledgeable sommelier of the 2% Borden’s: my mother.
As if her fork was a maestro’s baton she would pull from us our days, listening to problems, catching lies as if they were fireflies and teaching us it was all right to chew with your mouth open if something was funny. Dining was a delicate balance of good food, witty humor, hard work and guidance. I am reminded every night that this is not easy, but when done properly is memorable.
As we grew up and became busy with other things, the table emptied. Our ever gracious host would always have a full plate set aside for us late at night. I am not sure what that does to a mother, I may never know, but I would feel lost with an empty dining room on Friday night.
