I should start off by telling you my blog friend Megan doesn’t call this recipe curry in a hurry. Curry in a hurry is what I call it—because, my friends, this is a curry that can be on the table in 10 to 15 minutes flat. If the rice and vegetables are cooked ahead of time, or, at least, cooked while you’re off doing something else, dinner prep is barely dinner prep. Dinner prep is as mindless as reheating leftovers or buying one of those ready-made things you dump into a pan on the stove. Dinner prep takes less time than it takes to go pick up takeout, watch an entire sitcom or, you know, blowdry my thick head of hair (which is why I rarely do). Read more…
This week’s usual Tuesday post is coming a day early because it’s a little different from our usual chats and, instead of a recipe or a roundup, it’s a guest post up over at my beloved Seed + Water Blog. This post is fourth in a series Holly and Meagan have been running entitled “For Telling’s Sake,” in which bloggers talk about the ways blogging has shown to be a rich and meaningful experience in their lives. (This topic, as you may remember, is the sort of thing I have a lot to say about, and today’s lengthy guest post makes that clear.)
I’m honored to be among voices like Annie‘s, Rylee‘s, Kathryn‘s and, especially, Holly’s, Holly being the one who launched this idea for a series with her original post on the value of blogging, back at the end of January. I also continue to be honored to call Holly friend—I admire her so much.
You can read the post here.
When I was a kid, my parents would dart around the house in the final moments before company arrived, lighting candles, cleaning bathrooms, setting appetizers out just right. You could feel the energy in the air in those almost-game-time minutes—a sort of nervous, happy energy—something greater than the sound of my mom’s boom box playing its background harps or violins. When the doorbell rang, my dad would rush to the door, opening it proudly, beaming, welcoming guests inside as he took their coats and greeted them, motioning my brother and me to come say hi. Then, my mom would emerge from the kitchen, winded but obviously delighted at whatever was in her hands, prompting oohs and ahs and questions from the ones who’d been invited to come. Each one meal and its accompanying conversation would take two or three—maybe four or five with particularly talkative friends—hours before dishes were being cleared and the food getting wrapped up and people’s coats being pulled back out to usher them to their cars. But, as any host could tell you, its planning began long before, sometimes as much as a month ahead of time. Long before the good china was on the dining room table, I’d see my mom jotting down a potential menu and shopping list; I’d be around when she tested recipes before deciding to serve them to company; I’d be there the week of the dinner, when my parents talked about what they were making and at what time guests would arrive.
As an adult myself, I’ve followed my parents’ footsteps, often clumsily, feeling my way from the early days of solo hosting (where, once, my guest and I continued working on the uncooked chicken together after she arrived), to my current stage of couple hosting (where Tim and I tag-team the process).
Over time, I’ve grown more confident. Having one person for dinner isn’t stressful; having two is usually okay; but, last weekend, when we hosted Tim’s entire family for an early celebration of Easter and the annual April birthdays (of which, in his family, there are four), and we had ten people at our table more than once, I have to admit the experience felt completely new. Read more…