Growing up I loved each and every holiday.   It’s an excuse to break out mass quantities of special food and to see all the relatives (not necessarily a good thing) and to be on best behavior.   Easter, the celebration of Spring and Faith is an important cog in the wheel of time, after the dull days of winter.   I had dinner with some friends yesterday and we reminisced about Easters past.

For women and girls it meant a new hat, white gloves and a new best dress to wear to church.   My grandmother was a great lover of hats, her favorite shops were hat stores.   So I always got a hat that made me look like and feel like a complete idiot.  My brothers were merciless in mocking me.  For some reason I never thought to return the compliment, so a certain amount of fighting would ensue.

Then after what seemed like hours of waiting and trying to be good, the feast would commence.   Country ham (incredibly salty), biscuits, rolls, salads, deviled eggs, potato salad, green beans with bacon, crudities, lamb-shaped coconut cake and lots of pies.   My grandfather liked American food, so nothing ethnic was served at the feast.

I don’t make everything anymore, but I do try to do some of it, because it’s important to remember.   And it’s just me and Pen, although she could devour an entire feast by herself.  We always listen to Beethoven’s “Mount of Olives” too, it’s part of the day.

Easter also meant candy and there was that moment of decision.   Whether to eat everything at once or to save something, and what order to eat things in.   The essential existential question was: is it better to eat the weird candy first (like those flavorless fondant eggs) or to go directly to the delicious stuff (like red jelly beans) and of course the proper way to consume the chocolate rabbit (bit by bit starting with the ears, or in giant gulps starting with the feet or tail.

Then it was back to reality, no feasting or special foods that only appeared at holidays.  At least until the next festive occasion!