The New Family Meal

…pull up a chair

Mom. Dad. Kids. Grace. Milk. Wine/whine. Pot roast. Green beans. Ice cream.

Huh?

As a city-dweller, the family meal isn’t a regular occurrence for me.

Married or single, kids or childless, my kitchen doesn’t have the space, my job doesn’t always allow the time, or my Seamless delivery app is just too easy to use.

I was lucky; I was raised with family meals. And now? I crave them. Maybe it’s because I’m an only child. Mom and Dad are in another state. I have no older sister with whom to dine and dish, no younger brother to offer dating advice over a beer.

But I have friends. In New York, my friends are my family. And dinner is our family time.

Nothing proved this to me more than the two summers I’ve spent in a share house outside the city.

Share houses were, in my mind, for twenty-somethings chasing a certain party or a lifestyle — neither of which am I interested in finding at thirty-something (and of that, I am certain).

In this house we shared incredible home-cooked meals. Rarely was it said, “Where should we go out?” but rather, “What should we make?”

Salt-baked fish, grilled steak, farm stand ratatouille, fresh guacamole, roasted sweet corn,fully-loaded baked potatoes, peach fig pie, homemade mint chocolate ice cream — all made from scratch. We polished off bottles of rosé and brewed pots of coffee. Family recipes were shared, cookbooks were tested, apps were referenced. We didn’t say grace, but we did talk about our days. We always laughed. We rarely bickered. Music matched the momentum of the night. The TV flickered behind the couch. Candles burned down to the table. Someone inevitably fell asleep too early — or too late. Unlike home, iPhones never, ever left the table. Who cares? Instagram that pie. It’s a memory I wanted to keep.

It was a good group of folks. Some I knew well, others only as acquaintances. Two years later, they’re like family.

We escaped the city in search of what was missing from our city lives: the traditional family dinner.

To my “family” this Thanksgiving: I’m thankful for you.