By Easter is Sunday and this is Holy Week, which in an LDS household is observed differently than in other Christian traditions. We do not do Lent or fish on Fridays, but the weight of the week is present, especially now, especially for me, because I have found since January 2016 that the story of a mother watching her child die and then finding him alive has dimensions I did not have access to before. I do not say this in Sunday School. It is not the kind of thing I say out loud. I hold it in the kitchen while I make the ham, and it keeps me company, and I do not examine it too closely because some things do not need examining to be true.
I made the traditional preparations. Deviled eggs, three dozen: yolks, mayonnaise, mustard, a little sweet relish, salt, paprika on top. I pipe them because Denise pipes them, and because a piped deviled egg looks like someone cared, which I believe is the entire point of presentation.
The ham is an eight-pound bone-in from Macey's, on sale the week before Easter without fail because grocers understand the liturgical calendar when money is involved. The glaze is my mother's: brown sugar packed into a paste, Dijon to cut the sweetness, pineapple juice to make it pourable. Score the top in diamonds, stud with cloves, 325 degrees for three hours. By noon the house was something different from what it had been at eight that morning, something warmer and more specific, and Ethan came downstairs and stood in the kitchen doorway and breathed in and said: it smells like Easter. He is twelve and he said it without self-consciousness, and I have been thinking about it since.
Lily was in the Easter pageant at Primary. Her one line: He is risen. She said it with the conviction of a prophet and the volume of someone determined to reach the back row of the cultural hall. I cried. Brandon handed me a tissue without looking at me, which is the marriage equivalent of knowing exactly where someone is in a dark room.
Easter baskets for five kids, modest by design. Mason got a tape measure. He has been asking for one for six months.
The ham glaze calls for pineapple juice — just enough to loosen the brown sugar and Dijon into something pourable — and there is always half a can left over. This is a fact of Easter in our house the way cloves and paprika are facts of Easter, and I have made peace with it by turning the surplus into something the kids can drink while I score the ham and the house is still quiet and the day has not yet asked anything of anyone. It takes five minutes. It tastes like the beginning of something good.
Pineapple Banana & Coconut Cream Smoothie
Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 5 minutes | Servings: 2
Ingredients
- 1 cup pineapple juice (or 1 cup frozen pineapple chunks)
- 1 large ripe banana, sliced and frozen
- 1/2 cup coconut cream (from a chilled can, scooped from the top)
- 1/2 cup plain whole-milk yogurt
- 1 tablespoon honey, or to taste
- 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 1/2 cup ice cubes
Instructions
- Combine. Add the pineapple juice, frozen banana slices, coconut cream, yogurt, honey, and vanilla extract to a blender.
- Blend. Blend on high for 45 to 60 seconds until completely smooth and creamy. Add ice and blend for another 15 seconds until thick and cold.
- Taste and adjust. Taste the smoothie and add more honey if you’d like it sweeter, or a splash more pineapple juice if you want it thinner.
- Serve. Pour into two tall glasses. Serve immediately, optionally garnished with a pineapple wedge or a sprinkle of toasted coconut flakes.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 310 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 44g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 45mg