What Sundays taste like

Friday morning. We’re in the weekend homestretch–so close I can taste it. What exactly does it taste like? Freedom? A boozy Saturday brunch? Warm potato and kale soup with grilled cheese, perhaps? That’s what last weekend tasted like, anyway.

Not every weekend can be completely free and easy. Inevitibly, there will be mountains of laundry to wash, places to run to, toilets to clean, but some days are just meant for dawdling, taking a long walk with no destination, celebrating the ordinary. Last Sunday was one of those days and was punctuated by waves of warm sun and crisp breezes. The perfect kind of day for foraging at a flea market,

for recognizing the accidental art of sunlight and shadows

for appreciating beautiful craftmanship

for counting one’s blessings

and for revisiting childhood comfort with an old favorite made new.

This scrumptious Sunday supper may have been simple but certainly not ordinary. Alongside a glass of hibiscus tea lemonade, this cheddar and pear chutney grilled cheese with potato kale soup was eaten at the appropriately named Green Table in the Chelsea Market (green both for its organic, seasonal menu and also for its, well, green tables).

This was no Kraft-singles-on-Wonderbread-toddler-playdate grilled cheese (though even that has its time and place). This was fancy date-night grilled cheese dressed up with tangy raw milk cheddar from Neihborly Farms of Vermont and confident with the sturdy chew from Amy’s sourdough bread. Gingered pear chutney leant a bit mystery and intrigue to each bite but spoonfuls of kale and potato soup rounded everything out and brought it back down to earth. A satisfying Sunday supper, indeed.

I like to make a grown-up grilled cheese, myself. Maybe this Sunday will taste like melted brie and raspberry preserves or white cheddar and apples if boyfriend has anything to do with it. Yum.

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