Fondue

Tonight we fondued for supper. Yes, I am aware that mainstream America has pretty much moved on, declaring fondue to be outdated, messy, and really, really bad for your health. I don't care. It's a family tradition I'm intent on passing along to my kids.

I grew up in the 1970s, when fondue pots were all the rage. I have fond memories of long, drawn-out suppers around an olive green pot that bubbled and gurgled with dangerously hot grease, fueled by a small pot of alcohol-based liquid fuel. It was a trendy way to eat but still a periodic treat, since the meat we used was top sirloin steak, not an everyday staple in a family of six living on a budget. Still, fondue night was one of my favorite meals.

When I first moved to Chicagoland, I lived with my dad's cousin & her husband. When they moved to Florida, I was the recipient of many things they didn't want to move. One of those was a fondue pot they had been given as a wedding gift. They'd never used it. I knew I wouldn't fondue just for me, but I kept the set through five moves. I knew someday I'd have a family, and I'd want to fondue with them.

Once my own children were old enough that I was comfortable having them stick forks into a pot of scalding hot, bubbling oil, I broke out the fondue set. All three kids loved it. And every now and then, when I'm feeling like I want a cozy supper, we huddle around the small table in the kitchen and stick bite-size pieces of sirloin onto appetizer forks with elongated handles, and listen to the sound of the meat sizzle and fry. Supper takes a bit longer, the conversation seems more lighthearted, and everyone lingers just a bit longer.