Sunday's long been my Anything-goes Day, but it'd be hard to top this day's, um, richness. Never would've I believed anyone if they told me that I could indeed ingest so many hard-boiled eggs, and brioche buns, and egg-sauce over Friday's fish dishes. Nevermind even beginning to count all the cute little chocolate bunnies I've been asked to share. Tonight, it's supper with a religious fraternity: mammoth maple-glazed smoked hams, potatoes dauphinoises, and custard-stuffed buckwheat dumplings poached in maple sap -- hea...vy.
Sunday -- for Christians, anyway -- is meant to be a day of Grace. Abundance is the order of the day, so indulge. The "cheat day" wasn't invented yesterday (nor by Men's Health or Arnie), and has always been meant as a reward for Moderation and as a check against Deprivation. In addition to a weekly day for loosening one's belt(s), once in a while, spread out over the course of year, are feast days when one can be a serious glutton without shame and also provide Gratification to the ones that have whole-heartedly invested themselves in the offerings to be shared. On those few days each year, I set aside my individual programmes and proscriptions and focus instead on being a delightful and grateful guest. The food, after all, regardless of what symbolism and traditions it may be invested with, is still only a pretext for uniting one's nearest and dearest. So why not just raise one's glass (or hoist that diet-busting fork) and flourish the gratitude upon one's hosts as bountifully as they have spread it before their chosen few? We can always workout twice (or twice as hard) next day.
I shoulda given up Eating for Lent.