Last week's Easter celebration was the first since dad died. True, there was Christmas, but it came and went in a whirlwind of other unprecedented events (still to be blogged about) so it was easy to sort of overlook that was now one setting less at the table, no gifts for dad under the tree...
|ham & cheese|
By Easter the chaotic things in our lives have balanced themselves out so his absence was keenly felt. Especially since dad was always more actively involved with Easter traditions. He always prepared the eggs that were dyed in the onion skins, grated the horseradish and shelled and ground the walnuts for potica.
|smoked cheese piglet*, smoked salmon, bakalar and pickled quale eggs|
I've already written about my penchant for traditions and how I relish in the quietly assuring repetitiveness of never changing rituals. I adore the notion of having the same table cloth for Christmas for years and years and a separate one for Easter. The menus aside for a few variations remain the same too.
* The cheese piglet was a gift from Mr. C before he went on a business trip to Germany the week before Easter. It made me smile, suck a quirky little thing.