Thursday, April 28, 2011

Family Dinner: A Ploughman's Lunch and the Mango Duel

I am a working mommy. At moments, I am more painfully aware of this than others and this week was a bit of an ouch. I labored hard to balance domestics and day job as I traveled back and forth from a conference in a neighboring city. I successfully made four out of five nights to the family dinner table to firmly clutch my toddler's chubby hand in a circle of thanksgiving. Bowed heads. Bobbing cowlicks of curls. Amen

It is sometimes hard to coordinate unpredictable schedules, last minute meetings. One delightful strategy that we lean on from time to time is called a "Ploughman's lunch." Of a British origin, the meal is a quick throw together of cold meat, cheese and pickles that a ploughman could have carried to the fields. The traditional version usually also includes crusty bread and chutney brimming with delicious chunks of apricots or cherries. Our version includes finger foods of every variety save the kitchen sink. Pears, peppers, pickles, pretzel sticks... My children are captivated by a forkless dinner and I joke with my sister about our continuous cocktail party menu. 

We nibble at our light fare and discuss the day's adventures. A few years ago, I stumbled across an article that framed the family meal discussion through "sunny" and "cloudy" moments. I love this idea. Where is joy? Where is shadow? I hope to continue this dialogue of success and disappointment with my boys as the sprouts become beanstalks in the sky, climbing higher and higher. To try to recognize the mountaintop and valley moments in our day to day and know that this is all part of the race. 

Dinner would not be complete in our house without a sweet ending. Frequently that takes the form of chocolate. Dark and bittersweet. Sea salt sprinkled. Sometimes it arrives in the burst of blueberries. One recent night, however, dessert was served up with a room full of giggles. Fork against fork, a duel ensued over chunks of a delicious, meaty mango. A flash of marigold here and there, the fruit disappeared quickly between swallows and silliness. 

Yet one more sunny moment.

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