Welcome to February 19. Today is the feast day of Saint Julian of North Africa, Saint Baoithin of Ireland, and Saint Beatus of Spain. Who are they? Haven’t a clue, but I’m sure they must have been good men. Catholics have a Saint for every day of the week.
Why is that? Two reasons. First, we believe that we should all strive to be saints. And because we do, there are a lot of saints and saints in the making. Saints are far from perfect yet perfection is always possible.
Alleluia, alleluia
Whoever keeps the word of Christ,
The love of God is truly perfected in him
Alleluia, alleluia
Growing up, Sundays were special for so many reasons, in so many ways. Mass was always the focus of the day. Everyone dressed in their Sunday Best. Dressing in your Sunday Best required thought and effort. It was a sign of respect for God and the time spent in His house. These days Sundays are a bit more casual. While I do wear jeans, I draw the line at shorts, halter tops and flip-flops. It took Hubby and I years to feel comfortable in jeans and dress shirts. My head is still covered. There are certain rules that should be observed, if for no other reason than a state of mind.
I think what I miss most about Sunday is Sunday Supper. When we got home from mass, Dad would hang up his sport coat and remove his tie, but he still wore a dress shirt and slacks. Mom put away her veil, but stayed in a dress. Since we only had a limited “Sunday Best” cloths, we changed into play cloths. After all; our Sunday Best didn’t stand a chance of surviving our our backyard adventures.
By mid-afternoon the house was bursting at the seams with cousins, uncles, aunts and close family friends. At a minimum, there were 10 children, like little stepping stones, running about in the yard. Sundays were all about family. And counting our blessings.
Three Ps Sunday Supper
1-1/2 lbs Yukon Gold potatoes, quartered
1 medium-size Yellow Onion, quartered
3 tablespoons Olive Oil, divided
1-1/2 teaspoons Kosher Salt, divided
1-1/4 teaspoons Black Pepper, divided
1/3 cup Flour for dredging
4 (6 oz.) bone-in Pork Chops
3 tablespoons Butter, divided
1 tablespoon Flour for gravy
1/4 cup White Wine
1 cup Chicken Stock
1 (12 oz) package Petite Peas
2 tablespoons Italian Parsley, snipped
Heat oven to 450-degrees. Line a rimmed baking pan with foil for easy clean up. Spray lightly with cooking spray, set aside.
Scrub potatoes, cut into quarters and place on the prepared baking sheet. Peel and quarter onion, scatter around potatoes. Drizzle with 1 tablespoon olive oil, season with 1/2 teaspoon of salt and pepper. Place in the heated oven until potatoes are tender, golden brown and and onions are soft, about 25 minutes.
While the potatoes bake, prepare a dredge for the pork chops. In a shallow dish or pie tin stir together 1/3 cup flour, 1/2 teaspoon salt and pepper. Dredge pork chops in flour mixture, evenly coating all sides. Set pork chops aside.
In a large skillet over medium-high heat, warm remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil. Add pork chops, cook until golden, about 4 minutes per side. Transfer pork chops to a platter. Keep warm.
Melt 2 tablespoons of the butter in the now empty skillet. Add 1 tablespoon of the flour, whisking until smooth, creating a light roux. Let cook over low heat for a few minutes to remove any raw flour flavor. Add wine, cook, stirring and scraping to loosen browned bits from bottom of skillet, until reduced by about one-third, about 2 minutes. Add chicken stock; increase heat to bring to a boil, then reduce heat to medium-low. Cook, stirring occasionally, until sauce is thickened, about 4 minutes.
Cook peas according to package directions; transfer to a bowl. Season peas with salt and pepper to taste. Add a kiss of butter, stir gently.
For a nice presentation, plate pork chop, potatoes and peas. Snip parsley, scatter over the plate, serve and enjoy.

Love this pic. I was raised by the Fifties and Sixties generation and we always joked about the projection of sanitized, caricaturized portrayals of contentment by wearing formal gear to meals at the table and ladies vacuuming in full dresses, all the stereotypes the post-World War II society of America tried to project. As if everyone then really did so. It’s no wonder the blues and rock ‘n roll revolution became so big. It WAS revolution against this conformity tripe.
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I love the image. Even if my mother never mopped the floor wearing a dress and pearls.
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