Happy Poetry Friday!
We managed this past weekend to gather with some family and have our traditional dinner of Swedish meatballs and noodles. My husband is the chief cook. The process is long and somewhat tedious, and since we expected 12 hungry folks, several batches of meatball mix were made the day before. Hours of preparation produced six pounds of meatball mix. Whoa!
The next day, each meatball was scooped onto a pan and baked, then kept warm in an oven. At least 4 full pans, plus extra for one grandson who needs dairy free. Plus some meat mix to flavor the gravy. It was quite a labor of love.
Meatballs before being smothered in cream gravy
The outcome was sensational. The first mouthful produced a sustained sigh of satisfaction. Fantastic!
Of course, the meatballs need a poem, but I haven't had time to do them justice. Still, I had written a little poem about my husband... the grandpa in this poem... and how our evenings often unfold. So, with that introduction, I hope you will like it.
Grandpa
After rustling up
a fine dinner
he sinks into his recliner
works on sudokus
nods off and
snores
snores
snores
snores
snores!
Yes, it happened after the meatballs! Yes, we smiled and felt the rest was well deserved. Ahhh...
It's Poetry Friday. Find more poets at Carol Varsalona's Beyond literacy link.
Wishing you sweet winter dreams, beautiful clear days, and a good pair of boots, should you need them!
Snow has arrived...
It sounds like Grandpa earned those snores, Karen! I can't wait to hear more about your meatball tradition. We had plum pudding over the holidays (from the store, I haven't tried making it yet) a tradition from my mom's family. --Laura Shovan
ReplyDeleteHa! You are off to a good year of stories. Love that one meal exhausts Grandpa. Well deserved snores.
ReplyDeleteKaren, I can see why Grandpa rested on his recliner after cooking those batches of fine meatballs. Yum and happy snoozing. Thanks for sharing the joy of cooking for a gathering. I remember my aunt and uncle who retired to their family room every night and also falling asleep in their recliners. Memories at the holidays are to be cherished. Keep warm! Our second snowfall came last night when we were asleep. I did hear the roars.
ReplyDeleteYou've made me hungry, Karen--I can't decide whether I'd rather start with meatballs or a snooze in the recliner, though!
ReplyDeleteHa! Love the long, noisy end to your poem... stay safe in the snow! Wishing you and yours a creative and healthy 2022, with lots of napping.
ReplyDeleteMmmm, meatballs! Love your poem, Karen. My hubs is a snorer and a cook, as well. Maybe the two traits are connected? :)
ReplyDeleteThose meatballs look delicious! I think Grandpa earned those snores!
ReplyDeleteFantastic meatballs! I never quite got the hang of making Swedish meatballs and yours look delicious. Love your poem, too. I have a picture from a long ago Thanksgiving where all the men in the room are asleep!
ReplyDeleteThe chef certainly deserved his rest!
ReplyDeleteI can't have them but yum, they look good, and my husband would love them! What a fun poem, I'm loving those snores at the end, thanks!
ReplyDeleteOh, those meatballs sound delish. My mother used to fix them, & perhaps they aren't quite like your husband's, they were good! Love hearing about your family tradition, Karen, & that poem, just perfect, ahhh!
ReplyDeleteSo much love in this poem :>)
ReplyDeleteI agree with Laura -- there's a lot of love in this post!
ReplyDeleteCream gravy sounds delicious, and that recliner looks comfy. Could anyone resist a nap in it? Not me :)