The Kitchen Table

Food is unquestionably a unifier - everyone needs to eat!

Smorgasbord. This is what’s for lunch, um, dinner (In New England lunch is called dinner.) Mom loves to say Smorgasbord, but what she really means is that today is the day to get the leftovers out of the refrigerator.

It is June. The vinyl tablecloth displays a summer print of colorful watermelons.

The kitchen table is set for seven – Step-brother, hired hand, Mom, Step-dad, two of my children and myself. More place settings are on hand, just in case.

The table is covered with small dishes. We have hamburger goulash, a small scoop of tuna salad, a large scoop of ham salad, a smidge of Jello fruit salad, three-bean salad, a bit of macaroni and cheese, a plate of deli turkey and cheese slices, a plate of white bread, zucchini relish, garden fresh tomato slices, a gallon of sweet (very sweet) iced tea and a cookie jar filled (daily) with chocolate chip cookies. Yum, yum!

On the farm, congregating around the kitchen table was not just about the food, or the eating. It was the center of life happenings. It was talking out the day’s plans. It was enjoying (and teasing) the grandkids visiting from another state. On some occasion, it was talk of the Good Lord and what was happening at the little church, where an entire pew was dedicated in my step-dad’s family name. It was restorative and calming. It was a break in the rhythmic cycle of seemingly endless hard work.

Mom was admittedly not such a great cook, and perhaps not even that fond of doing it. But cooking and serving was her love in action. Comfort food, and lots of it, her offering of understanding and support. Breakfast, dinner and supper, as dependable as the rising of the morning sun. Steadfastly doing her part. A meal was an event. No paper plates. Dishes and glass tumblers. And she had a tall stack of vinyl tablecloths – a print for every season and every holiday.

Food is unquestionably a unifier. Everyone needs to eat. It didn’t matter who might show up at mealtime. There was always room for another plate, another chair. If you were having a hard day, Mom’s kitchen table was the best place to be. If you were able to “sit right up and eat”, it was a sure thing that, by the end of the meal, your day had already improved.

I sorely miss those New England dinners - and breakfasts and suppers. The loud joking and laughter. The laments about the weather. The worry of rain coming in before the hay was in the barn. The differing opinions on the morning’s news headlines. My step-brother’s goofy sense of humor. I miss his teasing. I miss his voice. I even miss the food.

Mom and Dad and my step-brother are gone now, way too soon if you ask me. The farm has changed hands and no longer is the “place to go” on summer vacation.

I’m not sure what happened to the kitchen table. I sure hope there is another family gathered around it, playing board games, or making chocolate chip cookies, or “sitting right up and eating” a Smorgasbord dinner laid out on a brightly colored heart print vinyl tablecloth.

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