Worship Chicken

There are vibrations all around me in the car. My son is humming the last song played at church. He is playing a righteous guitar in the air. My daughter is singing the words in her soft tenor voice and kicking the back of his seat to the beat. My husband is adding his deep, rich baritone voice and clapping his hands while barely missing my nose with his long, neatly clipped fingers. I sit wedged happily in the midst of all the cacophony and wish the ride home was 30 minutes instead of only 8 minutes long.

Arriving home,  I push a button that infuses the house with  new music. The fluid, rhythmic notes of Santana start hips swaying and arms raised to twirl or dip. Opening the fridge, I pull out the plump roasting chicken and while my husband is clipping fresh thyme, rosemary and sage in the garden, I rinse and pat the chicken dry. Throwing the fresh cut up herbs in melted butter, the music has now switched to the Beatles and everyone is now singing with great gusto the words to "Let It Be". The chicken is now saturated with the butter herb mixture, stuffed with lemons inside its cavity and set to roast in the oven for the afternoon.

Frisbee golf, reading, walking on the beach or cleaning, occupies everyone's interest and time as the aromatic smells of roasting chicken waft through the house and neighborhood. Windows are opened, fresh air comes in as rosemary pungent smells escape out of the house. Dogs and cats are weeping because they know their lips will never touch this food!

Potatoes are roasted, green beans are nestled in a green ceramic bowl, and fresh strawberries are sparkling from the light dusting of sugar. The chicken is pulled out of the oven and rests on a blue Italian plate throne. The table gets draped with a yellow  vintage quilt, set with blue chintz dishes and mismatched red floral napkins are laid by the silver cutlery. White pitchers filled with fresh water are sweating from the thick chunks of ice floating on top. Pewter candlesticks with ivory candles are set by the vase of hand gathered flowers of pink roses in the middle of the table. Dinner is ready...

"Come to Dinner!"

There is no need to yell it, scream it or hunt down any family member. The smells and activity in the kitchen have enticed everyone to hover close by for the call to dinner. We all gather in a loose circle, some hands are squeezed harder than others, bodies are jostled, legs get tangled and toothy smiles are easily seen. Reaching inside his heart, my husband gives the unscripted message of thanks for food, family and God's blessings in our lives. As "Amen" passes our lips, laughter erupts as we all dash for the table and grab the serving spoons to serve up some culinary delights.

Dinner is usually followed by games...Cranium, Perugo, Spades, Apples to Apples, The Great Dalmuti and more. I always think of Sunday dinner as "Worship Chicken" because it starts with church and ends with chicken. In between there is laughter, memories to be shared, stories to be told and the sweet savoring of time with my family. I hope we are cooking "Worship Chicken" for a long time...