Writing 101 Day Ten, Happy Meal?

“Who’s coming over?”

No response.

To Pamela again, “Who is it?”

“I don’t know, I was just wondering the same thing when I saw the Crisco.” She barely looked up from her Junior Classic.

“It doesn’t even matter any more,” Laurie stated, “that’s not the point.” My baby sister always cut to the chase.

“That’s true,” was my retort. “Let’s go wait outside.”

Dad was out there, sweeping his corner property like he did. We got out our jump rope, the Chinese one, because we had to stay on the sidewalk until Dad was done cleaning up. We always went outside to ‘get out of the way’. My older sisters usually stayed inside with Mom.

“What’s for dinner, girls?”

“Chicken.”

“And how do you know that?”

With Crisco and Bisquick on the counter and tin foil in the oven, it was always a sure sign. Tonya was already boiling the potatoes and Carol was shucking the corn. A summer New England dinner classic. We knew when to come back. With eight in the family, there was never any trouble getting us to the table. We were always back to make sure we got our fair share.

We answered Dad with another question. “Dad, who is coming over tonight?”

He leaned on his broom. “My friend Harold and his wife. Why?”

Well, Mom only makes that chicken dinner when company comes over.

And hence, “company chicken” was born into our home. It’s like another member of the family.

Chronicles of an Anglo Swiss

Tell us about your favorite childhood meal — the one that was always a treat, that meant “celebration,” or that comforted you and has deep roots in your memory.

Today’s twist: Tell the story in your own distinct voice.

“Mum, what’s for dinner?”

“Stew. I know you don’t like it but it’s good for you. A nice plate of broth never did any harm.”

“Any dumplings?”

“I always make dumplings, but don’t only eat the dumplings. Eat the potatoes and carrots as well. They are good for you.”

Mum always cooked stuff that was good for me, the problem was that I did not like most of it, she cooked like her mum cooked and her mum was probably not a good cook. Dad loved everything that mum cooked. Plain and basic, lots of broth and in the evening you could spread the remaining fat on a slice of bread and…

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