Soon after our daughter Olivia got married, my wife Lori started entertaining the idea of moving from our long-time home in Pleasanton, California, a great smallish town in the east bay area, nestled alongside a ridge between Oakland and San Jose. At first, I didn’t think much of it as moving wasn’t a particularly new thought for Lori.
When Olivia went off to college at Texas Christian University, Lori started almost immediately browsing for homes in Fort Worth, even though our son Raymond was still in high school. Then when Olivia went to law school at Vanderbilt, Lori set her home browsing sights on Nashville. Neither did I take too seriously.
However, a move to southern California had a lot more traction behind it immediately. You see, Olivia married Michael, an Orange County native, raised in the enclave of Laguna Niguel, where his parents still live in the house in which he grew up. Michael has been an Orange County lifer, and all signs point to that continuing. Thus, Olivia was an Orange County lifer too.
Lori, anticipating grandchildren in the future, wanted to move south to be closer to the kids. Me, on the other hand, didn’t want to move from one place in California to another place in California. Don’t get me wrong: California is a great place to live. It’s just that I’d “been there, done that,” and I wanted to slow down. California ain’t exactly slow, at least not in Orange County.
Lori pretty much told me we were moving. She said she didn’t want to railroad me into moving, but … well, she said we were moving. Resigned to my fate, I played the only card I thought would work for both. What about Lake Arrowhead in southern California?
Yeah, no doubt beautiful and a slower pace. But she knew right it was about a two-hour commute to Orange County. In practical terms, that made a visit with the kids an entire day, maybe even an overnight trip. If we were going to move south, it was going to be to Orange County.
With the decision made, I mumbled something along the lines of, “So if we’re moving all the way down there, can we at least make sure we get together regularly for Sunday dinner?”
Frankly, I’m not sure where the whole idea of Sunday dinner came from. It’s not like we made a conscious decision as a family to make sure we had Sunday dinner together. For us, Sunday was like any other day of the week when the kids were growing up.
As soon as Lori said that was a good idea, I immediately had thoughts swimming in my head of the Diane Lane in the movie, Under the Tuscan Sun, serving big meals to her new family, the construction crew renovating her palazzo.
Olivia and Michael bought in immediately. Right after we moved into our new home in Mission Viejo, they would come over every Sunday night for dinner, dragging their giant goldendoodle Craig along for good measure. In addition to dinner, we every once in a while would pull out the ol’ Monopoly board and play a game.
Great family fun.
Then a funny thing happened. Olivia and Michael decided to move in with us in an effort to save money so they could buy their own house. Just like that, Sunday dinner became every night dinner.
Sunday dinner remained a bit different though. It was a time to celebrate not only togetherness, but also the week that was just completed as well as the work week about to begin. It was also an opportunity to have some other guests too, like Michael’s parents Ken and Wendy.
Sunday dinner was also an opportunity to stretch one’s legs in the kitchen too, with what seemed to be more time to prepare bigger, more elaborate dishes. Maybe spend the morning scanning through cookbooks for ideas and then going to the store for all the necessary supplies.
For years I’ve wanted to produce a cookbook. I even started a family cookbook of sorts, creating a dynamic Google Doc that I began to populate with some of my favorite recipes and encouraged the cooks in my family to add theirs. Those cooks never did, and while the Google Doc still exists, it’s kind of died on the vine so to speak (or write).
A real honest-to-goodness cookbook isn’t likely in the cards for me. Producing a big, hardbound cookbook filled with glossy, full-color photos sounds like an incredibly slow way to burn through an easy five figures of cash.
But one day I thought: What about an online cookbook about my family’s Sunday dinner? That could be cool, right?
So that’s where we are, right here, right now.
I hope you find the recipes and short stories/commentaries below both tasty and entertaining. Come back often, for if the kids are in town on a Sunday—and they usually are—there’s going to be a Sunday dinner. And if you ever find yourself in Orange County on a Sunday, well, you know how to find me.
Buon appetito!
We had a guest for the weekend, Lori’s cousin, Lisa, who decided to visit to celebrate Lori’s birthday on the 28th. My goodness, what a visit it was. Night after night, the ladies talked until all hours of the early morning. I was tired just thinking about how late they were staying up!
Wow, times sure have changed for me, a once notorious night owl.
Anyway, for the occasion I thought I would bust out one of Lori’s favorites, Pollo con Arroz (Chicken with Rice) made in the Instant Pot. For those of you unfamiliar with the Instant Pot, it’s a pressure cooker that is a big improvement from those janky pressure cookers of yesteryear. And let me tell you, the Instant Pot fans are evangelical in their support. If you don’t have one yet, look into buying one.
Our side dish was fresh green beans sauteed in olive oil and seasoned with salt, pepper, and dried garlic.
Prep Time: 30 minutes
Cook Time: 45 minutes
Total Time: 1:15
Servings: 6-8 servings
Ingredients
Directions
Pollo con Arroz (Chicken with Rice)
Oliva and Michael spent the previous three days and nights at the Ojai Valley Inn and Spa, and while Lori and I enjoyed the quiet around the house, we were happy to see them arrive in the afternoon well in time for Sunday dinner.
We were recovering a bit from the July 4 celebrations. It’s not that Lori and I did much—the fourth was movie night for us. But the town sounded like Beirut in 1982, for crying out loud. Nothing gets the blood moving of a pyromaniac than the Fourth of July.
With the weather hot, but not too hot, I decided to go with a Pasta Primavera, accompanied by grilled Italian sausages.
Prep Time: 20 minutes
Cook Time: 20 minutes
Total Time: 40 minutes
Servings: 6 servings
Ingredients
Directions
Pasta Primavera
We use cookies to analyze website traffic and optimize your website experience. By accepting our use of cookies, your data will be aggregated with all other user data.