So(ul)journ!

There’s nothing better than a Sunday roast with all the fixings. This meal is rich with memories and nostalgia.

We attended worship at a lovely community of faith called Gracious Street Methodist Church in Knaresborough. The sanctuary was filled with people of all ages, and the music was a blended style, offering a touch of familiarity with services back home. The message was one of God’s openness to all. The people were welcoming, and it’s no wonder my daughter and her family chose this faith community for its inclusivity.

After the service, a trolley was rolled into the sanctuary near the exit, and ceramic mugs of coffee and tea were handed to those leaving worship, welcoming all into a fellowship space. The invitation was clear: come, stay a while. We met some lovely folks as we gathered, and of course, biscuits (what we Americans call cookies) were offered for dunking and chatting! (What a great name for such a time together, don’t you think?)

We had lunch reservations at the Half Moon Inn, where we enjoyed a Sunday Carvery—a classic Sunday roast with all the fixings. For the cost of twelve and a half pounds, we indulged in:
– Roast beef, pork, and turkey
– Yorkshire pudding
– Mashed and roast potatoes
– Parsnips with sausage, roasted carrots, cheesy cauliflower, pickled cabbage, cranberry sauce, horseradish, and stuffing
– And, of course, gravy!

Paired with a Theakston’s pint of Best Bitter, it was the most wonderful meal on the face of the planet.

This timeless classic is an English staple, though English fare often gets a bad rap for being bland or boring. As I savored this meal, it was anything but—it was a dish full of memories for me.

According to census’ records, my mother’s family hails from Shoreditch, London. During World War II and the Blitz, her family was relocated to Luton, near a munitions factory. My Nan insisted on keeping the family together, so council housing in Luton became the option. Whether they were safer there is debatable—my mum recounted many nights spent in bomb shelters as planes targeted the factory.

But back to the roasts. My Nan lived in that house until it was no longer safe for her to live alone. During the years I lived and worked in England, from 1985 to 1990, we visited her about every other month. She loved making a Sunday roast when we came. Having cooked for one for so long, she was eager to prepare meals for Jacki and me. As we ate, she would share stories of the family, including how my grandfather often brought someone from the pub or someone down on their luck to join them for Sunday dinner. My Nan could slice a roast paper-thin, a skill she developed during the rationing years, and somehow, there was always enough.

The pub Carvery brought all those memories flooding back—Nan’s Sunday roasts. Though peas were missing from this Carvery, the meat was perfectly reminiscent of hers. The parsnips and carrots reminded me of my Aunt Gwen’s; she always roasted them to perfection. And the Yorkshire pudding was just right, soaking up the gravy and drippings.

My Mum was a great cook, too. She managed to feed five sons and a husband every day while we were growing up. We always had enough. This meal was so reminiscent of her cooking. She explored many cuisines, but this roast is one that brings back the fondest memories of my Mum and her family. I’ve heard it said that cooking and love provides food for the soul.

This soul was truly satisfied yesterday!

What about you? Do you have a meal that brings back fond memories? I’d love to hear about the dishes that stir up nostalgia for you—whether it’s a family tradition, a special gathering, or just something that warms your heart.