When I think of writing about a memorable meal, the first thing that comes to mind is the people. I can visualize the setting, it could be the dining room at my Grandma's house or it could be my own kitchen table, but who was there or not there, seems as important as the meal itself.

I was recently reading the book "Something More" by Sarah Ban Breathnach who also wrote "Simple Abundance." Here is something that she says, "Our authenticity is found hidden in the small details fo our daily round--home, family, work, pleasures. We think that it's the big moments that define our lives--the wedding, the baby, the new house, the dream job. But really, these big moments of happiness are just the punctuation marks of our personal sagas. The narrative is written every day in the small, the simple, and the common."

To me, she is saying that the narrative of our lives is written in our choices, our habits, our daily routines. And one of the things that we do every day, more than once a day, is eat.

And therefore, we have thousands and thousands of memories of foods we've eaten, places we've been when we were eating and the people who were there. And even so amongst those thousands of meals, there are some that stand out. That is truly amazing.  I find myself thinking of the salads I made for dinner and the pasta dishes we ate when my husband Mike was alive. We'd generally eat dinner together every evening, unless I had a church meeting or he was working late or something else interfered, which, in my memory, was seldom.

I looked forward to making the meal and he could cook too and enjoyed cooking. He loved to go to fine restaurants too and we would try to reproduce the dishes at home. We went to Italy and when we came home we had loved this one simple dish so much that we made it all the time, "hay and straw" it was called. This dish got its name because the mixture of spinach linguine and plain linguine looks like a mound of straw and hay when served. There isn't much to it, the pasta, a little prosciutto, a little heavy cream, and some peas. But every time we had it, it reminded us of the wonderful time we had in Tuscany.

Now, my life is very different and I am content on Sunday afternoons when I cook for the week for myself. For example, today it was raining, how wonderful to cut up some yams and carrots and toss them in oil in a bowl with spices to taste and then spill them into a roasting pan and leave them alone at 400 degrees for 30 minutes. How tender and how very orange they are and bright on the plate next to some wilted chard and a small piece of fish. Equally satisfying and delicious as hay and straw was in those earlier days.

My common thread, continuing to love to cook whether for another or for myself, content to be in my kitchen with my pots and pans dreaming up some new dish to try. Still looking forward to cooking a creative meal for friends and sitting around enjoying it and sharing our lives.

Food brings people together, remembering favorite meals is a pleasure.