My family is huge. My immediate family alone consists of 2 parents, 5 kids and 3 step-kids. By-product of the 10 of us consists of 3 in-laws and 2 nephews and 2 more on the way. We are a modern family, fused together by divorces, marriages, and a similar skin type, and we are Many. Because we are so many, we are rarely all in the same place at once. And, when we are together, my siblings and I resort to pre-teen behaviors and mentalities after about 5 minutes of pretending to be grown-ups.
But I love my family. I really do. We're interesting and different. A house full of characters with enough stories and drama to give Days of Our Lives some real competition. We don't see each other enough and when we do, there hardly seems to be enough time.
This week, by the miracle we shall call Spring Break, two of my brothers are visiting Richmond at the same time. Naturally, this warranted a trip to the batting cage where hitting balls with sticks for an hour inspired them to make a steak dinner. They went out and bought the biggest, fattiest steaks they could find. Then, they smothered the slabs of meat in beer, butter and salt and threw them on the outdoor grill even though it was raining. I'm told they braved hypothermia because cooking outdoors is the only respectable way for Real Men to cook and electric indoor grills can go F themselves.
They also made steamed asparagus with shredded parmesan and mashed sweet potatoes. Granted, they cooked the asparagus in the microwave and the potatoes came in powder form, but hey, they boiled water and didn't burn anything. I was impressed.
By the time we sat down to eat, the pre-teens had been running rampant for over 30 minutes, which means both of them had farted, one was already full from stuffing his face with Cheez-Its while dinner was cooking, and the kitchen looked like a cyclone had ripped through it. Further evidence of retro-growth: My oldest brother had to take a picture of his Great Culinary Accomplishment and post it on facebook before he could sit down, and my youngest brother ate a giant fork-full of gristle in exchange for the picture so he could photoshop it before it was tagged.
Observing my brothers at the table is like watching grizzly bears protect their young, or hyenas eat roadkill. They sit, hunched over their plates so that their mouths are only inches from their food. Their elbows extend as far out as possible, for balance I presume, so that they can simultaneously shovel food into their mouths and guard their plates from a stray fork wandering in from enemy territory. I remember once reaching for a dinner roll, blinking on my way there, and grabbing air as my hand reached an empty plate. Thinking I may have hallucinated, I looked up to see my second youngest brother swallow a baseball sized dinner roll, my baseball sized dinner roll, in its entirety in less than half a second.
The steak was delicious though, cooked to perfection, and its always entertaining to listen to my brothers lament and laugh about their current realities, even with food in their mouths. Dinner only lasted about ten minutes, which, in case you were wondering, is how long it takes two grown men to eat 3lbs of steak, a bushel of asparagus and six servings of potatoes. I managed to get a few bites myself, but of course, I blinked.
... and they were gone.
