My daughter, Ariel, her boyfriend, Brian, and I participated in the go-out-to-dinner-after-church-on-Sunday ritual this past weekend practiced by so many of us nowadays in Dallas.

This is a big departure from the way I was raised; there was no eating out on Sunday's in the Lewis household.

The after-church meal was spent around my mother’s kitchen table with a feast that she had mostly prepared early on Sunday morning before anyone else in the house was coherent. A typical meal would include roast, potatoes – mashed, twice-baked, or roasted with the meat, another vegetable – possibly green beans, salad, and bread. Sometimes the meat would be baked chicken or fried steak.

Oh, and dessert; more often than not our meals ended on a sweet note when she baked pies, cakes, and other assorted goodies.  But dessert didn't accompany every meal and my older brother was particularly disappointed when it didn't.

Whatever meal she coordinated, it was good and it was plentiful.

My mother operated from the mindset that she would rather have leftovers than not enough, so there was always an abundance of food. At the last minute we could invite a friend or two, maybe even three to join us for any meal any day of the week with no worries.

And, of course, we knew the meal would be wonderful and we would be proud.

Mom would leave church earlier than the rest of us in order to get home and put the finishing touches on Sunday dinner.  The aroma that greeted us at the door by the time we arrived home set our stomachs to growling if they weren’t already. I have a memory of those aromas even to this day.

Since I love to cook I might be just as devoted to preparing a Sunday meal if I knew I would get a consistent crowd around the table, but I don’t. Our individual schedules are hectic and unpredictable.

So eating out is what Ariel, Brian, and I did this past Sunday (Hannah was at work). It was quite a departure from the traditional Sunday fare of my growing up years – we had Indian food at the Clay Pit  in Addison.

I made this suggestion knowing that the Clay Pit is at the top of Ariel’s favorite restaurant list.

What I didn’t know was that Brian had never eaten Indian food. She didn’t given him a chance to opt out, but he’s an adventurous eater and went along willingly.

I gave him a few minutes to try the variety of foods he had selected from the buffet before I asked him what he thought.

“My taste buds are dancing,” he said.

And I liked that.

Sometimes I think that our culture misses out on the wonderful flavors and feeling of satiation that food can bring because we eat so many fast, processed, and sugary foods.

Maybe this is one of the contributing factors to the growing problem of obesity; we eat and eat some more and even more still searching for some sense of satisfaction.

Perhaps if we ate more fresh, flavorful, healthy, and palate-pleasing foods we’d be satisfied with eating less. 

So I’m with Brian.

Whether we are feasting around mom’s kitchen table or serving ourselves from an Indian buffet, whatever day of the week it is, our taste buds should dance while we dine.

Brian and Ariel