Spooning

Friday, the day OHS and I arrived at the “family compound,” there was, as is usually the case, nothing much to eat in the house. So I made pasta with honorary Paul Newman sauce and added one of the old man’s few basics, tinned anchovies wrapped around capers.

Saturday, we went shopping, and then roasted a chicken and sweet potatoes, which we ate with glazed carrots. Sunday, my father’s birthday, friends had us over for vegetarian quiches, salad, and orange cake. When two of the other guests started praising McPalin, I left the room so I wouldn’t have to hurt the mo'fos.

On Monday, I made Sicilian meatloaf and mashed potatoes. OHS, who usually handled the all-important vodka tonic department, made chocolate chip cookies from scratch. Since we were having Elvira and Farney (people not likely to praise crypto-fascist yahoos from Alaska) over, my dad wanted the good silver and china out. Turns out there’s also a bag of miscellaneous silverware that included these spoons: my mother got them when she worked in Iraq for the State Department in the 1950s. (After she married, she could no longer work for State, since married woman weren’t supposed to have jobs in those days, o tempora o mores!.)
Crude but effective designs, I think.