Sunday Dinners

P. and I were talking about our most cherished memories when we were kids over dinner some nights ago. His was the Sunday dinner after mass. Come to think of it, I do cherish my family's Sunday dinner outings too.

I remember we used to go to mass every Sunday, 5pm at Our Lady of the Abandoned in Sta. Elena. We would drag our feet from playing outside to take a bath and dress up for mass. After mass, my dad would always ask, "Anong gusto mong kanin?" (lit. "What rice do you want to eat?") Which I would answer with "Hmm, fried rice." Only recenly did I realize that my dad used "kanin" (lit. rice) in place of "kainin" (food to eat), so what he really asked was, "Anong gusto mong kainin?" (What do you want to eat?) Anyway, my family would frequent Max's at Quezon City where we would always sit near the big tree in the courtyard. I remember that courtyard as being quite dark, with just a few hanging lamps to light the area. My siblings and I would rush to the koi pond and watch the fish while we wait for our rice and fried chicken. By the time we end our meal, our legs and arms are riddled with mosquito bites, but we always look forward to the walk back to the car. We knew that exiting the restaurant would mean that we'd pass the bakery by the door, which means that we each get a colorful sugar cookie lollipop. I remember keeping mine safe so I can eat it at recess on Monday and show my friends that yes, I have a pretty cookie to nibble on. The cookie itself was hard and tasteless, but we all relished the dangerously thick, crumbly colorful royal icing that decorated the cookie.

Our family also loved eating at Kimpura, a Japanese restaurant. We'd alternate between the Greenhills and Makati branches, which I remember having the words "beer garden" attached to its name during that time (I may be mistaken.) My mom would request a teppanyaki table, a long table with a cooking surface and all of us, children and adults, would gleefully watch the chef cook teppanyaki right before our very eyes. I loved how incredibly dextrous they were, able to juggle eggs without breaking them. The chef's signature move was to toss an egg and have it land on his spatula, cleanly breaking the shell and the egg squarely landing on the hot cooking surface. It was amazing.

Later on, we would try other restaurants like McDonalds (in Cubao) and Saisaki (EDSA branch) which we liked, but it didn't really give the same excitement as the old restaurants we visited when we were younger. These family dinners became less frequent when Ate L. was in highschool and would excuse herself from our Sunday ritual to attend mass with our cousins (who were mostly her age.) Mommy and Daddy insisted on us younger kids going out to mass and dinner with them, which we did but it didn't really last long. All of us eventually opted out of Sunday dinner to be with our friends, or some other excuse.

P. commented that he now knows why our parents would always insist on these little family rituals. Parents know that time with their children are limited and sooner or later, if they're lucky, it would be just the two of them at the dinner table.