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An indecent proposal

The Sunday ritual of a Santafesina family can become an indecent proposal. The odyssey of being the host.

“Hi,  guys  (for boys, understand: children, grandchildren, friends...). Do we eat a  roast  on Sunday at home?” Then comes the obvious acceptance, perhaps not from everyone, but from enough guests to  start, the day before , to prepare the necessary. Not knowing that we just made an indecent  proposal  .

Usually the butcher “trusted” advises us what is the best cut he has to offer us and we let ourselves be convinced, because this boy never disappoints us. So we were happy with  the meat, the saustios, the black pudding thread  and, depending on the height of the month in which we are, we add a minimum dose of gizzard for each, to give us the gustito nomás.

Arrived home and after zealously saving the purchase, we are ready to enjoy what is left of  Saturday . A question comes to us just when we are about to read the morning of rigor: “ With what are we going to accompany him?  Because I see you didn't go through the greengrocer.” So, we take out the bedside shoes and put on the corresponding footwear for the task that, we assumed, was not within our competence. Once done, now the enjoyment is coming, not without first recommending “the patron saint”: “For  dessert , yes, you take care of it, because I told everyone  not to bring anything.”  Without hearing the answer (maybe a growl, maybe something else we don't want to know about) we resume reading. I had started preparing it a while ago.

 The day came 

Already on Sunday, the indecent proposal is concrete. Averaging the morning we begin to change with the  clothes  of making roast, although we have the apron that holds the legend “a round of applause for the  grill .” We go to prepare the grill, we look for the old diary that will be in charge of leaving it impeccable thanks to our strength in the fray and  we have everything ready  for charcoal.  “ And the coal?  You didn't buy coal? (we do not roast with firewood at home). Well, I'm going to the corner, I'm sure in the parchment they have.” We take out the apron and go, just like that, without changing. We return, munidos from the indispensable element. We see what time it is and we're lighting the fire. It's time to claim to whoever is close (usually just our lady who is busy with the salad): “It would be nice to  have a  vermouth,  wouldn't it?” There is no answer, the lady is crying with the onion, because some like tomato salad with onions, others don't, so she takes care of making another one without  onions , another arugula love boys) and another lettuce alone. Today he rebelled and sentenced that he won't make the potato salad.

In the absence of response, we prepare the vermouth, take the opportunity to  cut some pieces of black pudding to accompany it , some bread and, with that incentive, we are separating the embers already ready and begin to incorporate the meat. We like it slowly, every so long to turn it around. The gizzard, sausages and especially the black pudding will wait at the end. “Che, what time did you tell them?” “We're not really there, they'll come when they're ready.” “Look, this is already being...”

 All ready 

The noises of tableware have ceased, the lady of the house has already  set the table , added the chairs for everyone, laid out the tablecloth, located the plates, glasses, napkins, posfountains and coasters (which in the end will not everyone use).Dessert dishes and spoons will wait their turn on a counter. You also have ready  salads  just waiting for the seasoning, already checked whether the dessert goes well and prepared the ice for the drink. Then it's going to change with a Sunday look, but roast. Just when it's finished the doorbell starts to ring and a continuous opening of  the door, with the bustle going in crescendo , as guests arrive. “Where do I leave this source?” “But I told them not to bring anything!” And so with everyone who arrives. In the end there are like four desserts.

We peer shyly to be greeted, after all, we are cooking for them! Come the hugs, handshakes, pecked of the black pudding left of the vermouth and the tips: “I think  you'd have to turn it over,” “Isn't this part ready?”Look, she's finite!” We are  experts  at deterring counselors and get rid of them without generating disgust. So we are filling the fountains that our lady has reached us, while  everyone is sitting at the table  in a pleasant talk.

 The end, for some 

We eat everything. There's some bone left that those who have a dog divide to take. The  desserts are coming, one, two, three, four. Or do we already see double with the vermouth, the beer, the wine? The feast is over, the talk goes out, the lady of the house washes two hundred plates, the same as glasses, cutlery, spoons. The invited women collaborate...  We have to clean the steakhouse , take care that little braces don't fall to the floor, because in the afternoon we have to go out and sweep.

 The guests are leaving . For them Sunday is just beginning, for us and our consort the shared joy was a lot, which does not take away that,  making numbers of what we spent  and the work we did since the day before, the invitation to a roast at home has become an indecent proposal.

 We suggest you continue reading the following notes: 

In the end, the first thing is family
An indecent proposal to the governor
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