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We like to eat

August 10, 2009

This is why I moved back home.”

I found myself silently speaking these words this past weekend as I had the honor, the delight, and the privilege of spending the afternoon with my grandmother, my mother, and my sisters. 

No kids, no husbands, no boyfriends–just five women ranging in age from 23 to 78, all acting like a posse of 19-year-old girls out for a late lunch and a movie.

It was bliss.

And the girls in my family know that bliss ain’t bliss unless it involves food, so we began our girls’ day at a delightful local restaurant where we gorged ourselves on lobster crabcakes, salad with homemade cucumber dill dressing, and anaheim chile chocolate creme brulee, English tea cakes with butter sauce, and a sour-cherry almond bread pudding that was downright orgasmic. 

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Really, I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to recreate that infamous scene from When Harry Met Sally or stand up and announce to the restaurant that the reason the button on my pants was about to shoot across the room like a comet was that I was six months pregnant.  With bread pudding.

And true to form, we transformed our desserts into buttery, chocolatey, gooey carcasses.

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And lo, it was good.

In fact, it was so good (and our matinee-viewing of Julie and Julia was so inspiring) that we spent the next afternoon cooking together in my mother’s kitchen and preparing a celebration feast for my youngest sister’s 24th birthday:

open-faced panini with goat cheese, roasted red peppers, and spicy olives

open-faced panini with goat cheese, roasted red peppers, and spicy olives

ciabatta bruschetta with fresh mozzarella and tomatoes and basil from the garden

ciabatta bruschetta with fresh mozzarella and tomatoes and basil from the garden

vegetable pizza

vegetable pizza

homemade guacamole

homemade guacamole

strawberry amaretto pastries

strawberry amaretto pastries

 

And the food, the laughter, the rainbow of chopped cilantro and sliced strawberries and roasted red peppers and fresh basil and shredded cheddar brightening my mother’s kitchen–the very opportunity to spend an afternoon cooking with my mother and grandmother and sisters…

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…this is why I moved back home.

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