A typical family dinner at my house is the same every night. Not the food, but the routine in which it pans out. After nearly an hour of preparation and cooking, my mother will call upstairs to the rest of the family, informing everyone that the delicious food she has prepared is finally ready. I’m usually the only one that hears her, as my sister almost always has headphones in her ears and my father’s hearing is horrible (like really bad). Then it becomes my job to rally the troops, and eventually, make our way to the kitchen table.
The table is always particularly set, just the way my mother likes and the way I have grown to expect it. Plates with the silverware to the left of it, glasses filled with water just about three quarters full, and the food as the centerpiece. The meal is almost always the same format: a meat with a vegetable and starch on the side. My personal favorite is steak tips, which is always served with carrots and rice.
Everyone sits at the same seat every night. My father and I on one side of the table and my sister and mother on the other. Once we’ve all taken our respective seats, we begin to fill our plates, more than ready to start eating. My dad, however, will almost always take his plate to the kitchen cabinet and replace it with a bowl instead.
“It keeps the food hotter,” he says. My father, the self-proclaimed scientist.
Once everyone has filled their plates with each part of the meal, we engage in our regular dinner talk. This is usually proceeded with a few minutes of silence, as no one wants to start the conversation with boring, typical small talk. Once the ball gets rolling, we all start exchanging thoughts, genuinely enjoying what the other person has to say. If it’s not about sports or business, however, my dad usually remains silent. In this case, I’ll throw him a bone and talk about how well the Patriot’s played the past Sunday.
Everyone’s plates are usually left empty, as the food is always great. This is also partly due to my dad’s rule of eating everything that’s on your plate. This rule applies every night, unless it’s one of the meals that he’s not the biggest fan of. However, if it is one of his favorites, he’ll “generously” finish the rest of anyone’s leftovers. What a nice guy. The only leftovers I ever leave are on my shirt or pants. I wouldn’t refer to myself as messy, just a continuously unlucky eater.
Since I’ve gone to college, I think these nightly family dinners are what I miss about life at home the most. This isn’t just because my mother is a phenomenal cook and feeds me free of charge. That is a big part though, I miss home cooked meals and paying for your own food sucks. But you can’t put a price tag on gathering with your family every single night, enjoying great food, and having fun conversations. My family’s dinners aren’t flashy and may be unimpressive to others. We usually eat the same five or so staple meals and often talk about the same things. Yet, it’s more than enough for me.
There’s something unique and intimate about sharing a meal with family and friends. It’s one of the few times in today’s world where people can gather around, without their phones or other gadgets, and just enjoy each others company and conversation. It’s something I didn’t fully appreciate when I was younger, but now am forever grateful.
So if you’re lucky enough to eat with your family every night, don’t hesitate to acknowledge those you’re sharing the meal with. If not, try to make a point to make it happen. Get your family or friends together maybe once or twice a week and share a meal. Neighbors, college roommates, whoever it may be. Eat, talk, laugh and enjoy each others company.
And finish your plate.
