Sunday, 4 March 2012

The Centre of the World: The Sunday Dinner

On Friday I discovered that my Brazilian friend was yet to experience that unique, beauteous, divine creation of Man: The Sunday Dinner. It’s difficult to verbalise just what is so magical and enticing about this meal.

I am a simple man. Whilst the food of other cultures may pass my lips from time to time; never will any cuisine surpass that of the British. Our food may seem strange to some, and bland to others. But for us it’s home. And no other food encapsulates that idea more than the Sunday dinner.

It’s an event. The preparation followed by the hours of cooking and slaving away; the clanging chimes of pots and pans that call the house together; the overwhelming scents of meat, potatoes and gravy as you burst excitedly into the kitchen; the heat of the room causing the windows to steam. There is a moment of chaos as the cook plates up and the hungry diners wait without patience. And then the meal is delivered. 



The food; SO much food! The meat, the potatoes, the vegetables, the stuffing, the Yorkshires; all of it swimming in a pool of rich gravy. So people like to make it more refined with garlic gravy, or herbed mash. Shame on these people! This meal is one of humbleness and simplicity! When the meal comes to an end, the family sit back in their chairs so full with food that it’s difficult to even speak.

It is my personal and humble opinion that the dinner you experience at home, be it cooked by your mum, your dad, your grandparents, or whoever, is the epitome of excellence. No other variation can top this, or ever will. For a poor student so far away from home, it’s rare that I get to enjoy such a treat as my mum cooking the Sunday dinner. It’s perfection. The one centre of world. Though I will say, my housemate does make a worthy substitute.

And finally, I don’t care what anyone says: It is NOT the same if it’s NOT a Sunday!

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