It may be hard to believe, but I truly miss those meals of my youth.
As do I! LOL!
Of course, we were “poor” and if it weren’t for the hugh garden, the fruit trees, and the cold storage locker, we would have had some mighty slim meals. As it was, when things got too tight, our “Nanny”* would bake up a batch of seriesly large cinnamon rolls for Saturday night supper, and we would go to bed full. It was only after I was away from home for 20 years that I realized what those cinnamon rolls really meant.
All the more reason to appreciate them.
*The “Nanny” was a Swedish immigrant, and had no family. Since my mother was ill most of her life, this “Nanny” took up the slack in housekeeping and in turn she was provided a place to live.