As the long holiday weekend wound down, we combed the fridge for the remnants of our Saturday market shopping binge, trying to put together one last meal. Besides a few lamb bones and some stale bread, we had one head of lettuce, some radishes, rainbow chard, a chunk of Romano, bouillon cubes, a bag of Arborio rice and lots of Easter eggs.
My friend and I chopped and stirred together with ease, me making mayonnaise the old-fashioned way, she browning rice and onion in some butter. Talking about everything and nothing, I stuffed eggs, she made broth and swept under the table. I sautéed chard, she stirred down the rice and pulled out a stack of plates. I made salad and stuffed the eggs, she rounded up the muddy kids (we had walkie-talkies to reach them in the dark shadows of the forest) and got them washed up. Together, we created the meal. After our hearty lunch, we revisited the cakes, demolishing at least one, then we all piled in the cars to take them to the train station.
We will see them again this summer as we officially celebrate their nuptials, but I realize just how much I miss being able to call up and let the kids play while we hang out—creating a meal and community together.
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