A glimpse of my childhood

When I was growing up my mom made roast every Sunday. Every Sunday.

There was never any question about what we were going to have for lunch on Sunday after church. Going out to eat was out of the question because we usually lived in such small towns that the nearest restaurant was half a day's drive.

So we had roast. Roast in abundance. Roast with carrots, potatoes, onions.

Roast.

I hated it. I loathed going home and having roast every Sunday.

I made friends who didn't have roast on Sunday and begged and pleaded to go to their houses for lunch so I wouldn't have to eat roast.

Fast forward to today and I've turned the corner. We're having roast for dinner.

And it smells soooo good.