Recipes by Meal

Life in the Claremon house was busy. Soccer in the fall, basketball in the winter, baseball in the spring, and tennis year round. There was swim team during the summers, and afternoon Hebrew School two days a week. By the time you were in high school, the activities and social life just multiplied. Since I was coaching, I often had my own activities at dinnertime. And Dad frequently worked out of town.

So maybe we did not have dinner at home every night. Maybe we grabbed pizza or Togo’s or even McDonald’s on the way home from the game or practice. But we did have family dinner together most of the time. And they were always pleasant and leisurely with intellectually stimulating discussions of your latest interests or current events. Or not.

Okay, there wasn’t too much yelling or squabbling. Of course, Stephanie always complained that she had to sit in the middle and spent all her time passing food to others. And then there was the time that Steve asked for the croutons one time too many. Dad, always a paragon of patience, told him to wait a minute, but Steve kept repeating, “Pass the croutons.”

“CROUTONS?!?! You want croutons?” Dad screamed. “I’LL GIVE YOU CROUTONS!!!” And he poured the whole box over Steve’s head.