The lovely sterling silver serving pieces looked a little out of place on the tiny table that came with our furnished mobile home. They were wedding gifts, and it was their debut. Mine, too. Our Tyrolean tablecloth, Blue Danube dishes and entertaining skills were on display for the first time. Mom and Dad were coming for dinner.
It was cozy; so cozy that Dee had to stand up and move his chair so I could open the oven. I garnished the Barbecued Spam Roast with lovely green sprigs of parsley and nobody mentioned that the rice was so crunchy we were in danger of breaking a tooth. The peas weren't done until it was time for dessert.
I discreetly crumbled the sunken Bundt cake into my new parfait glasses and spooned ice milk (the less expensive brand of ice cream) over the chunks, so that it appeared it was supposed to be served that way. Mom was very complimentary and Dad's claustrophobia subsided long enough for a nice visit in our humble home.
I received my thank you in the form of a care package. Three years before, my brother Tom had shot a very ancient deer. After the first obligatory meal, my folks had stashed the venison downstairs in the freezer. Since then the meat was thawed out only for the dog when her regular dog food was in short supply.
Now, after all this time, Dee and I were the lucky recipients of several packages of freezer-burned deer steaks, accompanied by a note from my dad which read, "After a delicious meal we can see that this meat needs only the special touch of a gourmet cook."
The next time they came to dinner, guess what I served?