Party Time

There were two things I could count on from my mother when she chose to entertain in our home.  Her Party Feet and her Party Steak. Party Feet sounds happy but in reality this phenom spread dread in our family ranks.  Invariably, it began early in the morning while my four siblings and I were happily sleeping off whatever mischief we encountered the night prior.  We would wake to the 'slap, slap, slap' of my mother's bare feet marching down the long hall that led her to each of our respective slumbers.  The word 'Achtung!' comes to mind as we all jumped to attention to receive our marching orders for the day. Being a guest in our house was memorable.

Now Party Steak was the 'carrot' we all followed with hopes to enjoy after the last guest departed.  A classic 'Never In The Kitchen When Company Arrives' (The Zen bible in early sixties cooking), no-fail recipe, for a Sirloin Roast with Piquante sauce (I have brought the recipe forward and substituted portabellas for my non-steak eating friends) that one can Do Ahead and Serves A Crowd.  We were the left-over crowd. And it was tasty.  Really tasty.

Good lord willing and with safe travels, tomorrow, the five of us gather, most likely, one last time in our family home to dismantle sixty-three years of our collective life crafted by our parents who are now gone.  Ugh....its 'the stuff' part. It's time.  Its good. And I am excited about the weekend.  Not so much for the inevitable roller coaster of laughter and tears but because I get to spend two nights with my three brothers and sister under one roof! And so many I know are no longer able to say that. And we like each other.  We are the gift that our parents left us.  Anything else can be found on EBay.  My mantra this past weekend has been to repeat out loud "I am so happy for you to have that....".

In hopes that we all behave as we were raised, I am dangling the 'carrot'.  Yes we will be sitting together to enjoy Steak Piquante.  Although the dining room table has already moved on, we will find places to perch and hopefully savor collectively the tastes of our childhood.  And it will taste happy.   Perhaps we will all do the Party Feet dance on the bare wood floors.  This is my hope.

I am so happy for you to have that.......


(Secret weapon #2.....56oz bag of Peanut M&Ms... a party in your mouth).

                                                        (Our street addresses growing up.)