The informal banquet
Summer is more than a season here. It’s an actual state of mind. With only a hint of the shift, our seasonal neighbour from down the hill stopped in for the afternoon, along with her two yellow Labs, who own the room they’re in. Our dog will get over his bewilderment, but it will take time. When someone can arrive and you have little sense of how long has passed since the last visit, it means they’ve moved from acquaintance to friend.
We could have kept right on chatting through the evening, but we had another date on the calendar. This is Village Feast Weekend. Our fifth time, and the twelfth for those on the steak line. Fearing for weather this afternoon, they left the kitchen outside and moved the tables in to the rink area, which was actually a positive thing. No sunstroke. No rain shower. No need to protect plates from gusts of wind. We simply ate, like we were in the most informal restaurant you can imagine. As usual, the quality was top notch, and I’m already keen for 2020.
Actually, I’d love for my extended family to stop by at this time of year. I could show off what happens when a village adopts a cause. So many volunteers, in their fashionable orange tees, making a success out of an idea. The official attendance figures aren’t out yet, but I will make a guess at “close to a thousand” plates served. Not so far-fetched, when you understand that this is the biggest food date on the local agenda, passing the lobster roll competition by far.
