Many a bowl of homemade beef stew has been shoveled down in my family. It's done with culinary joy, with a wink, with a side of crisp salad and crusty bread.
These days, my childhood favorite meal is still eaten quite quickly. And yet, it seems a bowl can last for hours these days. More so: Robbie and I came over my parent's for dinner, and our dinner lasted for hours as we talked and talked and talked. Joshing and ribbing each other. Sharing news, making future plans, et cetera, et cetera.
Beef stew symbolizes not just great memories of food, and memories of the loved ones who prepare it and share it with us, but it's also a symbol of good times.
Beef stew: it manages to beef up the good times. Har. har. har.
The latest batch of stew has created a new memory, in the form of an inside joke between those present at the dinner table tonight.
Similar to adding "That's what she said" onto the end of statements, we now have: "It's hereditary."
Trust me, it's a keeper. I'd explain more, I'll be right back, just getting another bowl of stew.
... It's hereditary.