bringing dinner back

“All great change in America begins at the dinner table.” — Ronald Reagan

Noah, Clyde, Dawn & Sawyer

The challenge:

For 53 weeks, we will eat a meal together every single day of the week (unless someone is out of town, of course) — no easy task in this house of competitive rock climbing, baseball, football, church, homework, family, friends, dogs, guinea pigs, and those pesky jobs that pay the bills. I have high food standards (almost always organic; local when we can) and a low budget ($600 to $700 a month for our family of four). Not a great combination. I love to cook, though; although I consider a Taco Bell quickie fair game when push comes to shove.

The players:

• Dawn, 42: That’s me. I’d never tasted a pear until my mid-20s (thanks Meg). Decided within that year I could never live any place that didn’t have fresh mozzarella within a five-minute drive (thanks Sarah; currently it’s four). Crave travel (especially to Greece and Africa), time with girlfriends, the Indigo Girls, the scents of New York City, and a the smell of anything yummy wafting from stove to every corner of our Victorian home in old East Dallas. Favorite foods: Cassoulet (although it might actually have to be prepared and consumed in France), steak, tzatziki, Brussel sprouts, and chocolate chip cookie dough with organic whole milk.

• Clyde, 43: Raised on chicken fried steak, white bread served in the plastic wrapper (the family joke was, “Don’t break the bread plate!”), and an array of vegetables that are always better with bacon (you can’t really argue with that, though, can you?). Always has a stack of books he’s reading by his nightstand, hates leftovers, loves spice, a martini at the end of the day, big cities, and me (the latter making him more special than your average white bread lover). Favorite foods: Anything Asian, chicken fried steak (you can take the boy out of Waxahachie …), Mexican, his grandmother’s coconut cream pie, and bread pudding.

• Noah, 12: Vegetarian since the age of 6 (a wall of roasted chicken at Boston Market pushed him over the edge). This from the kid who announced when he was 2 that he would now be having pâté for every meal. Guitar player, rock climber, snarky in front of his friends, climbs in his daddy’s lap as soon as Clyde puts his fork down after dinner. He sometimes just eats for health and energy, which the rest of us totally don’t get. He dislikes baked chocolate goods (yes, we’ve run DNA on him). Recently refuses to eat any bread but Mrs. Baird’s white and says he prefers the taste of pesticides. Favorite foods: Indian, Vietnamese, PBJ (white bread, no crust), French fries, and dried mango.

• Sawyer, 9: When he was 3, commented with chicken leg in hand: “That’s funny. A chicken is called a chicken and this is called a chicken.” To which is newly vegetarian brother responded, full of judgment: “That’s because somebody killed that chicken so you could eat it!” “Oh,” Sawyer responded, taking a huge bite of dark meat. Baseball player, football player, loves his posse of 9-year-old boys, easily distracted by any book, and does a special dance when we have taco night. Favorite foods: Vietnamese pho with lots of cilantro, tacos (obviously), pork chops, just about any pie, and cotton candy.

The goal:

I’m bringing dinner back. Has anyone else wondered where it went?