:ready-to-eat:
Sunday dinner at Irish (Dad's side) Grandparents was corned beef and cabbage, stewed mini-onions, crinkle-cut carrots, string beans, celery stuffed with pimento-cheese spread, boiled potatoes, homemade dinner rolls with butter, milk for children, tea for adults. For dessert there was apple pie with vanilla ice-cream. The pie would be served warm with a slice of cheddar cheese on it. The adults would have tea and dessert in the living room and talk. Children ate dessert at the table and cleared it before going to play outside in good weather, or in the huge basement "rumpus room." This was in the country in Connecticut.
:alcohol:
Sunday dinner at Russian/Polish/German (Mom's side) Grandma's was meatballs with rice in them called "porcupines," stuffed cabbage with sour cream, sauteed mushrooms, turnips, buttered noodles, candied carrots or sweet potatoes, pickled beets, Russian bread with honey-butter, malted milk for children, vodka for adults. (Sometimes grandma would make eggnog with a teaspoon of vodka which we children could drink.) For dessert there would be different cakes and cookies. The adults would retire to the living room to play cards and drink coffee. We children liked to go up onto the roof and play under the clotheslines. This was in Brooklyn.
:smile:
Those were the "good old days" when families stuck together. Now, the Sunday rituals are gone. I might be privileged to join another family for a meal, or, if I visit my family, we either go to a diner or get a pizza or Chinese food because nobody likes to cook on Sunday. If I'm by myself, I often get a take-out meal from a diner and find a nice scenic spot to park the car and eat, read, pray, etc. My apartment is too tiny to have family over, and they don't like the driving or lack of parking in NYC. Recently, most of my Sundays are spent driving to and from Mass, so I end up grabbing a burger at some drive through place and eating it on the road.