THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, November 6, 1994 TAG: 9411040085
SECTION: FLAVOR PAGE: F1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY MARY FLACHSENHAAR, SPECIAL TO SUNDAY FLAVOR
LENGTH: Long : 241 lines
SUNDAY DINNER . . . the words suggest a dining room with flowered wallpaper, a table draped in lace and filled with platters of sliced roast beef, home-cooked vegetables and biscuits fresh from the oven.
Sunday dinner should mean company's coming, there's a pie in the oven and all's right with the world, at least for a few hours.
But not anymore.
For many of us, Sunday dinner is just like the one we gulp down Monday through Saturday, a bag of burgers and fries picked up at a drive-through window, a frozen entree zapped in the microwave and eaten hurriedly at the kitchen counter.
These busy days, who has time to clear off the dining-room table?
What family has time to sit together?
And who in the world has time to cook?
The Coopers, the Savvideses, the Kattwinkels and the Carters do. No matter how hectic their schedules become, these four Hampton Roads families pause long enough each Sunday to share a meal and some good, old-fashioned dinner conversation.
Usually their Sunday menus are not daring or sophisticated, but are based on country cooking or ethnic specialities handed down through the generations. The same dishes appear on the table Sunday after Sunday, symbols of the continuity the family tradition aims to achieve.
Prepared with care and love, the meal is usually delicious. But the food itself is not nearly as important as the comfort and therapy served with it, say those who make Sunday dinner a habit.
Take a peek into four dining rooms as these families sit down to their special meal.
The Coopers
At 12:30 p.m. every Sunday, Fletcher Bundy, 92-year-old retired farmer, says grace before the family dinner at his daughter's Elizabeth City home.
His blessing is not prepackaged and it is not short.
As he prays for family members nearby, faraway and long gone, his great-grandchildren Keith and Bobbi Jo Cooper might tilt their heads a bit to eye the platter of crisp chicken legs. His grandson Stephen Cooper's thoughts likely drift to the slices of roast beef that will soon melt in his mouth. And his granddaughter Sharon Cooper-Davis contemplates her favorite of the three entrees that typically adorn the table, the turkey breast.
``By the time grace is over, we are all drooling,'' said Cooper-Davis, whose mother, Barbara Cooper, is Bundy's daughter and the hostess and cook for the weekly family gatherings.
Grandfather's grace is a vital ingredient at Sunday dinner, as is the line delivered, without fail, by Cooper the cook at the end of the meal: ``You all haven't eaten anything.''
The 10 folks gathered around the lace-draped cherry table in the dining room usually have eaten plenty but they are no match for Cooper's meal.
The Bundys, Coopers and Cooper-Davises know not to fill their plates with the three entrees because coming right behind the platters of meat and poultry is the parade of casseroles - broccoli, squash, sweet and white potatoes - and other side dishes - bowls of collards, butterbeans and congealed blueberry salad, baskets of hot rolls and corn bread. Dessert is usually a trio of home-baked goodies, maybe pineapple upside-down cake, banana pudding and pecan pie.
``You're expected to take more than one,'' said Cooper-Davis, ``and to top your dessert with vanilla ice cream.''
The four-generation family, all of whom live in Elizabeth City, spends about an hour and a half over this old-fashioned farm dinner, deriving as much sustenance from the companionship as from the food.
``We've grown up this way, real close, and Sunday dinner is our time to talk about our jobs, the relatives, current events,'' said Cooper-Davis, a rural postal carrier whose husband, Dale, works in wildlife management.
``My husband came from a family like this and so he adapted to our custom real well. My sister-in-law's family is not so close, and because of that she loves our Sunday dinners.''
Many of the favorite family recipes are from Mae Bundy, Fletcher's wife, who originated the Sunday dinner tradition. About 10 years ago Mae turned the apron over to her daughter, Barbara, and Fletcher passed the carving duties on to Barbara's husband, Ernest Cooper.
About 3 p.m., after more talk in the Cooper living room, the family says goodbye. Everybody leaves with a doggie bag, and with the comfort of knowing that the door here is open, not just for Sunday dinner, but anytime at all.
The Savvideses
The Sunday dinners that Gypsy Savvides hosts weekly for her family don't seem all that extraordinary to her.
``We really wouldn't make a Time magazine story,'' said Savvides. ``We talk about ordinary things, everybody's jobs, the grandchildren.''
But extraordinary things happen around the Savvides dinner table.
Three-year-old granddaughter Rebecca eats spinach with gusto.
The adults immerse themselves in heated political arguments with joy.
And without a complaint, someone invariably jumps up to clear and wash the dishes between dinner and dessert.
The four generations that gather round the dining room table of the Savvides home in the Hilltop section of Virginia Beach know how to harmonize.
To begin with, they are a blend of two cultures - Gypsy's family is from Texas, while husband Michael is a native of the Mediterranean island of Cyprus.
``We feel very lucky that we have merged our two backgrounds so well,'' said Gypsy, as she worked in a kitchen filled with family photographs and decorative plates, jugs and vases from Cyprus. ``Our children and grandchildren have been enriched by both influences.''
Gypsy and Michael, a Virginia Beach restaurant owner, harmonize well in the kitchen, where she cooks and he seasons for the Sunday gatherings at which they usually feed 10 family members from the Savvides, March and Nelson families.
Olive oil, fresh lemon, salt and pepper are Michael's only secrets. Without ever using a measure, he adds some of each until the dish looks, feels and tastes right. His magic touch makes spinach irresistible to granddaughter Rebecca.
Texas and Cyprus blended in the dinner the Savvideses served their family one recent evening. The all-American steaks and ribs prepared on the outdoor grill were accompanied by side dishes with a Mediterranean flair - a colorful Greek salad, brown rice with a topping of homemade yogurt and Great Northern beans and fresh spinach that had been expertly seasoned by Michael in the style of his homeland. Gypsy made an elegant Greek dessert - slices of poundcake covered with jam, almonds and a delicate custard flavored with cognac.
The oldest and youngest family members had merged to create a seasonal centerpiece for this October dinner. Juanita March, Gypsy's mother, carved the pumpkin, and her great-granddaughters, Angela, 4, and Rebecca decorated cupcakes to surround it.
``Our Sunday dinners are so good for the children,'' said March. ``They have the opportunity to be with different generations. Without experiences like this, they will never learn how to interact.''
The great granddaughters and their brother, Michael, 15 months, sat at the festive table contentedly as their family's favorite foods were heaped onto their plates and the conversation flowed.
``It is a little quieter than usual,'' Gypsy informed a first-time visitor to the cozy dining room. ``If my father were here we'd already be talking about Robb and North. He keeps it lively, but we love it.'' James March, dubbed by his family as ``our crusading conservative and moralist,'' was in the hospital, where he'd been for six weeks or so recovering from a broken hip.
But the family hadn't progressed too far into the meal before everyone admitted Papa needed to be at the table to make this family dinner whole. Gypsy brought the phone to the table and it made its way slowly around, as family members young and old harmonized in the message they sent their patriarch: ``We miss you, Papa; dinner just isn't the same without you.''
The Sunday night ritual usually includes card games after dinner.
``Maybe if more families did things this way, we wouldn't have all the problems we have on the outside,'' said Michael Savvides. In his native Cyprus, he said, family dinners are a way of life every day of the week.
The Kattwinkels
When O. Frank Kattwinkel was growing up in New Jersey, Sunday school was always followed by a visit to his grandparents' house. While his father's large family lingered over grandmother's dinner, Frank and his sister, weary of adult conversation, would disappear into the basement to read the funny papers.
But Frank occasionally lifted his head to listen to the voices and the laughter that drifted downward. He recognized that important business was being conducted upstairs - the business of keeping the family connected.
Today Frank and his wife, Helen, have preserved the tradition of a Sunday dinner to help keep their family connected. About 6 p.m. every Sunday, their two sons, two daughters-in-law and three grandchildren gather at the senior Kattwinkels' ranch home in the Bay Island section of Virginia Beach. About once a year their four other children and their families, all of whom live far away, swell the number to 19.
The food prepared by Ma Katt, as Helen is called by her family, is just good old home cookin', such as the chicken-and-rice casserole and gelatin salad served one recent Sunday evening. That night, the tablecloth was plastic and the cardboard container of milk sat right on the table next to a homemade Halloween centerpiece. The family talked about a local garage sale, news from the out-of-town Kattwinkels, what costumes grandsons Tyler, 6, and Zachary, 2, would wear to trick-or-treat.
The details may be simple, but the Sunday scene at the Kattwinkels has richness and elegance. The family might wince when grandpa Frank, a retired Air Force lieutenant colonel who now teaches marketing, retells a story from the good old days or delivers, as he does often during dinner, one of his famous morsels of advice such as, ``A piece of paper never forgets.'' But the wince quickly gives way to a warm smile that lets Pa Katt know his wit and wisdom are cherished ingredients at these Sunday gatherings.
``Pa Katt can always be counted upon to provide the entertainment,'' said daughter-in-law Sheryl Kattwinkel. ``But it's Ma Katt's willingness to cook that makes these times possible.''
Even though Ma Katt is often busy all weekend with her many volunteer responsibilities, she insists on doing all the cooking for Sunday dinner. Sometimes she starts the meal a day or two beforehand.
``Once in a while Ma will let us bring a salad,'' said Sheryl, but almost always the meal is entirely Grandma's gift to her grateful family.
On a recent Sunday evening 5-month-old Bethany, too little to sit at the table, seemed to sense that important business was being conducted at the family dinner. From her perch in a baby seat hanging in the dining room doorway, she watched her family closely and without a sound. On a wall behind her hung a framed piece of needlework done by one of the Kattwinkel daughters. It read:
``There are only two lasting things we can give our children . . . one is roots, the other wings.'' The Carters
Evelena Carter starts her Sunday dinner so early in the morning, the good aromas of dinner mingle with the good aromas of breakfast.
Her roast beef might simmer in the crockpot, while the dinner rolls bake in the oven, while the morning's sausage sizzles in the skillet.
Sunday is a day of good eating in the Carter household. Then again, so are most other days of the week. Carter, who has been a home economics teacher in Norfolk public schools for 21 years, takes seriously the job of cooking for her husband, Tyrone, and their 15- and 12-year-old daughters. She plans her menus by the week, and cooks a hearty dinner nightly.
``I grew up out in the country on the Eastern Shore, where there was no fast food,'' said Carter. ``When we wanted to eat, we had to cook.''
She learned a lot by watching her grandmother, who cooked a big country dinner every Sunday for Evelena, her parents, her six siblings and the large extended family that lived nearby. Grandma's Sunday meal of chicken and dumplings and from-scratch apple pie is a fond family memory.
``My grandmother had her own way of doing things,'' said Carter. ``After she sliced the apples for her pie, she'd add sugar and spices and let it all sit for 30 minutes.'' This marinating time produced a pie richer in flavor than anybody else's, Carter said.
Many of grandmother's dishes are served regularly at the Carter Sunday dinner, which Evelena sets on the table about 2:30 p.m., after the family has returned from services at the First Baptist Church of Lamberts Point in Norfolk. It's a 30-minute drive from their home in the Wesleyan Pines section of Virginia Beach.
``Sometimes just the four of us sit down to dinner, but often we'll bring friends back from church, especially if we all plan to return to late-afternoon services,'' said Carter.
The family sits down to an old-fashioned dinner of shrimp creole, baked chicken, roast beef or pork chops surrounded by several side dishes and, always, a mountain of Evelena's homemade rolls.
The ritual, said Carter, gives her children a sense of belonging.
``The girls have their chores - one sets the table, one washes the dishes,'' she said. ``From participating and from sitting down together, they get a sense of family. Our Sunday dinners help them put a little discipline in their lives.'' ILLUSTRATION: PAUL AIKEN/Staff color photos
Kevin and Sheryl Kattwinkel help son Zachary, 2, during their
family's Sunday dinner.
The Kattwinkels hold hands and say grace before Sunday dinner. The
food is good old-fashioned home cookin'.
GARY C. KNAPP/ ABOVE: Michael Savvides holds the phone while his
granddaughter[sic] sings to a family member who isn't present.
by CNB