I'm a dreamer, always have been. Inside my head are a thousand photographs I have yet to take, a hundred books I have yet to write--and of course, about a million daydreams about family, love, creating, exploring and sharing. I think I've been dreaming of serving dinners like this to my family since long before I actually started a family of my own--it's the kind of warm-from-the-oven, hearty but healthy meal that magical food memories are made of.
Easter has me straight up flummoxed this year, y'all. On the list of "things you don't have to think about until you have a kid, and then suddenly YOU JUST DO," holidays rank pretty high. When was the last time I even celebrated Easter? When I think back on all the previous Easters of my life, there are some dim memories of stiff and lacy Sunday dresses, straw hats, running in patent leather shoes, salty ham slices, Dixie cups of saccharine after-church lemonade that burned your throat with sweetness, plastic eggs. Jelly beans, of course. A frenzy of chocolate and gold foil and pastel plush animals that made Easter seem....almost like Spring Christmas? In a way that was always bewildering and somewhat overwhelming, though. Why are there presents? Who is this shady Easter Bunny character? What's in a marshmallow Peep, anyway? No one needs Spring Christmas. We're not churchgoing people, and I'd rather leave the orgy of candy and goodies out of the picture for Henry while he's still so young. So how, then, to celebrate Easter?
I remember Count Chocula. I remember Toucan Sam, the Trix Rabbit, and the fact that the Flintstones were the spokestoons for the Pebbles cereals (both Fruity AND Cocoa). Why? Genius marketing. I do not, however, recall the actual taste of any of these in any sort of Proustian way from my childhood......because I grew up in one of those families. You know. Healthy cereal families. Muesli and cornflakes and, maybe just for fun, plain round Kix cereal (they're Kid-Tested, Mother-Approved, y'all).