You know, there is not a thing wrong with eating your dinner over the sink or in front of the television, and I'm a big believer in grabbing comfort wherever you can find it. But in my experience of the world, it seems to me that the very best moments around food, around companionship occur at the table. So this is Fran's table, and I want you to come find a seat. There's plenty of room. Sit down next to me. And the thing about it is we may talk about food on account. It's one of my favorite subjects, but we may talk about other things as well, just like around a regular, you know, table where we have conversations and we connect and we learn about one another. So this is Fran's table. Grab a chair, let's go. I am so glad you joined me for this first episode of Fran's Table. You might have guessed of course, that my name is Fran. I'm a writer, a consultant, a mom, a spouse, a sister, home cook, storyteller, and by storyteller I mean that in the broadest sense of the word'cause. Guess what? I think we are all storytellers. But I think that some of us, we've forgotten that, and maybe coincidentally, but probably not. I think we don't gather as consistently around the table for shared meals and shared stories. I think food shared around a table with either people, you know, people you want to know or people you just met is magical. It's, it's the weaving of an intricate spell or, or perhaps the creation of a. Beautiful, multidimensional work of art. I mean, first there's the food itself and I love food. I love fancy food, simple food, restaurant food, home cooked meals, potlucks, block parties, picnics, tailgate, the everything. Big old family dos. I love the sourcing of local food I, the science of food, the beauty of food, the prep and cooking of food, the presentation of food that's fun. And of course the sharing and eating of food. I think I've made my point. I love food, but the other ingredient to the magic around the table is of course, the people with whom we eat. And I know this can be a difficult thing to eat with others. I mean, maybe you live alone, maybe you live with others, but you have different schedules or different relationships with food. But when I do make the time to sit at the table, and maybe that doesn't happen every night. I mean, something happens. There's connection. Even if there's no conversation, which of course, let's be real, when I'm in the room, there's very likely gonna be conversation happening because I'm not a quiet, reticent kind of person. But when you're together around a table, there's connection. You connect over the food. As you taste the flavors on the plate, you connect with the sounds even outside or inside the space where you're eating. Like, is the dog settled? Is the dog waiting patiently or not for leftovers? Can you hear those kids playing in the street? Like, and even in the absence of conversation, when two or more people sit down to eat together, they are sharing space and experiencing the same space together. And that can be magical food and people around the table. That is so central to my life and my lived experience. So mom and dad both passed away in 2020. Dad died first from complications associated with Alzheimer's, and then mom died in December of 2020 from cancer. And because of the pandemic, we didn't do a celebration of life service for them until about 18 months after Mom passed. So here it is. It's July, 2021. And everyone's in town. Both my sisters, my brother-in-law, all four of mom and dad's adult grandkids, friends from college, friends from childhood, friends from work. All the chosen family in a big life that you accumulate over time. And do you know where we gathered first to? Remember mom and dad? Of course, you know, it was the kitchen. The table in particular, I have a snapshot of my adult daughter prepping part of dinner alongside her two cousins. My sister and brother-in-law sort of looked on and my son and other sister were outta the frame, but they were there. And also one of my best friends from about fifth grade on, she was sitting at that old Oval Oak kitchen table chatting with me. And I remember I just kind of took a breath and captured that moment on my phone's camera. It was, it was magic. That table had seen some action. See, it was a surprise gift for my dad to my mom to replace a, a worn classic 1950s model that used to live there. Now, the original fifties model was one of those like chrome trimmed laminate tabletop, and it was molded and and painted steel frame chairs. With that, you know, the snazzy brown, bronze and gold pattern, vinyl back resting seats. That was it. That was that fifties table. And then the new table my dad picked out and presented to my mom in the late seventies was a classic wooden alternative. Had the, the oval oak colored laminate on on a wooden base with simple, classic wooden chairs, with spindle backs and contoured wooden seats. It wasn't fancy, but it was solid, and it was an omnipresent prop in my family story. You know, it was at that table that my mom sat when I was 17 and I came home past my midnight curfew and I had taken our Swedish Exchange student out for a night of music and a tour of the hot spots at the local college campus. And when I came home at 1:00 AM my mom looked up from her untouched crossword puzzle and declared to that kitchen. That I would never again stay out past curfew. She didn't scold mind you, she just announced this will never happen again. That table saw thousands of meals, hundreds of guests. That table wore silent witness. Two Countless announcements. I mean, some of them were met with glee, some with anger, consternation. Other announcements prompted, you know, the deeper examination. Considered discussions. There were announcements about boyfriends life plans, jobs, weddings, babies, and death. That table was the perfect work surface for homework. Report cards, permission slips, crossword puzzles at midnight past curfew, and on it were propped. The Wall Street Journal, the New York Times, the Herald, the Sun, and even the Herald Sun. Gosh, I haven't even gotten to the point of talking about the food and, oh, Mylanta, as my friend Susie would say, I am a fortunate soul indeed for all the good food I've eaten. My parents and grandparents were intrepid eaters, mom and her mother in particular. I mean, we ate some stuff that, that some people at the time considered weird. Like the time that we ate bowls overflowing with baby eels, steamed in a fragrant broth, and my sister, who was two years old at the time, exclaimed over her spoonful of eel. Look at the little eyes. We loved that. You know, I've eaten really simple and impossibly good food. I mean, so many things. One thing I haven't successfully recreated were fried red tomatoes. Oh my gosh. When we had those growing up, they were jammy and, and kind of sweet and soft, softer than the green ones. Um, with an almost blackened crust that kind of cut the sweetness of the tomato. Oh my God, that was good. Or we had cabbage stewed with just the smallest bit of salted fat back, just enough to render that overcooked vegetable, a kind of silky, smooth porky goodness. And the broth, or what we called pot liquor was every bit as yummy as the cabbage itself. And then there's also the food that qualifies as an elaborate magician's trick. If you've ever made homemade pasta, you know that the pasta itself is not actually hard to make, but it seems like it is. So you serve it with a kind of ta-da flourish, and everyone at the table, oohs and Oz over your magnificent trick, the sleight of hand, as it were, and there were so many foods and recipes that lend themselves to that kind of flourish, the kind of. Remarkable moments that I wanna give the people around my table. But finally, and perhaps most importantly, there's another gift we give one another around the table. We give ourselves, we give our stories. I. We talk about meals that we've shared in the past, food we've made or eaten when we've traveled food. We've offered one another to nourish ailing bodies or hungry spirits. We share our stories, our recipes, ourselves at the table, and I wanna share that with you on this podcast. I mean, we'll talk about food for sure. I am. Forever trying to figure out what I want for dinner. But we'll have conversations too. I mean, sometimes I'll have guests here to talk with and sometimes those discussions won't always be about food. I mean, maybe we'll talk about the events of the day. Maybe we'll share our work triumphs or our work travails. Or maybe we'll just plan a trip or discuss adventures of long ago, and maybe we'll remember the beautiful souls who sat at the various tables with us through our lives, some still with us, others not. I hope you'll join me at this table. Pull up a chair, grab a plate. Let's eat and talk. This is Fran's table. And by the way, what do I want for dinner?