I love everything about making Easter dinner except the Saturday shopping. That day, the supermarket can be as crowded as a department store at Christmas. And this Easter, on top of my regular checklist, I had to buy the ingredients for a delicious new recipe I’d discovered: sliced ham and turkey layered with Swiss cheese and spinach, all wrapped in pastry dough.
Trouble was, my work schedule had left me no time to shop earlier in the week. I’ll get up extra early and take care of everything Saturday morning, I thought, as I drove to the office Friday. But that morning Yola, one of my co-workers, asked if my husband, Robert, and I would help her move the next day. “I really don’t have anybody else to ask,” she apologized.
“Sure,” I told her, soft touch that I am. Bright and early Saturday morning, Robert, my 15-year-old son Ben, and I drove our pickup to her old apartment. Oh, the piles of furniture and boxes! It took us till late afternoon to get her settled in her new place.
By the time we returned home, I was spent. I don’t know how I’m going to go shopping now, let alone cook Easter dinner, I thought. The only ingredient I had at home was the spinach.
On the kitchen counter were two shopping bags of food Yola had sent home with us – her thanks for helping her move. She was leaving on a trip the next day, and didn’t want the food to go to waste.
I reached into the first bag and pulled out a package of sliced ham. Well, that’s lucky, I thought. At least I can cross one thing off my list.
Then I pulled out a package of sliced turkey, and another of Swiss cheese. That’s odd, I thought. There’s no way Yola knew my Easter dinner plans. I reached back into the grocery bag, thinking of the Easter miracle. All of sudden, the strangest feeling came over me. My hand closed around a package near the bottom of the bag. I lifted it out. It was a box of pastry dough – the final ingredient I needed for my recipe.
