Supper Time…

Somebody asked me once if I am from the Midwest. I was curious why she asked: “because you call the evening meal ‘supper’ instead of dinner.” Okay. Well, that’s what it has always been at my house. Supper.

Unless we had company and/or dessert. Then it magically became “dinner.” We didn’t have dinner very often when I was growing up. Oh, we had company frequently but, we had “potlucks” not dinner. My mother was on a perpetual diet so dessert was not a frequent happening at our house. In fact, I would come home from school and, if my mother was baking, I would ask who was coming over.

When I got married, my mother’s advice to me was simple: always have the supper table set when your husband gets home from work. I did that until the kids were in school; then the table was the epicenter of homework projects and my sewing projects. Invariably, the casserole came out of the oven before the table was cleared off.

Casseroles. Who eats them anymore? My kids loved my enchilada casserole. It was everything that went into enchiladas but, I didn’t have to dunk the tortillas in enchilada sauce, fill them, and roll them up. Everything was layered, then a layer of beans and cheese on top and pop it in the oven. Tastes just as good the next day, too.

We didn’t have much money when the kids were little but we always had enough to eat. One of their favorite meals was hot dogs and pork and beans. I would slice the hot dogs into circles, then fry them in butter in the bottom of the pot, then add the can of pork and beans, some mustard, a little Worcestershire sauce, and some brown sugar. I don’t know how that tastes the second day because there were never any leftovers.

Supper got more complicated when the kids started playing sports. Three kids, playing baseball, at three different schools, at almost exactly the same time and on the same day. Supper was later in the evening frequently. We ate a lot of taco salad back in those days. It was quick and easy to fix. One thing I insisted on was that we ate together, and we sat at the table. If one of the kids had an after school activity, supper waited for them.

One of the joys of eating supper as a family is milk. Now, we all know that milk is good for your bones because it has calcium in it. And milk needs to be enriched with Vitamin D so the calcium can be absorbed by your body. What many people don’t know is that milk is good for your heart, too. Take three teenagers, put a glass of milk in front of each one, and watch the fun begin.

At least at my house. I am not sure how the whole thing got started but, it did. One of the boys would pick up his glass and start to drink his milk. One, or more, of his siblings would start making faces and continue making faces until the first one had spit milk all over the table. Just another endearing, “Norman Rockwell” kind of tradition. It was hard to get mad because the act of “losing one’s milk” always led to gales of laughter.

The supper table was always the location of the best discussions. The day’s activities were mentioned; that questionable slide into third base was rehashed; and the “beans were spilled” about a new crush. If my parents joined us for supper, it was almost a given that the discussion would turn to English literature or history. My kids loved to discuss the classics with my daddy, and they never ceased to be amazed by his wealth of knowledge.

Things come and go in life. Kids grow up and move out. Loved ones are no longer here to gather around the table with us. Habits change but memories linger…..

I miss supper.