Dishing out gourmet style guilt

   "Oooo, it's Ash Wednesday, the best day of the year! I can't wait for dinner!"
Forty years ago when I worked after school in the kitchen of a Catholic hospital, I couldn't understand why everyone so ecstatic over Ash Wednesday.
   "Every Ash Wednesday Sisters make fondue. It's the only day they make it and it's the yummiest food in the world," a co-worker explained.
   Fondue? Oooo! The name itself sounded heavenly, especially to someone raised on dishes with names like goulash, holubke and kielbasa. 
   We high school girls ate before the staff and patients, so we dipped into the first batch out of the oven. It was a whole new experience, not only for my taste buds, but for my tongue as well. It was like cheese flavored marshmallows, this mass of fluff that billowed out over the pan. It seemed sinful-even sacrilegious- to be saying "Oooo" over such a delicacy on Ash Wednesday. I almost felt guilty, but it was the only food on the menu. Certainly the sisters wouldn't set us up for sin.
   For years, the memory lingered, but I never saw this fondue anywhere else. In my early twenties, the word fondue reentered my vocabulary, but this time, it was of the dipping variety and nothing about it was like marshmallows.
   A decade later when I had kids, I was leafing through my "Joy of Cooking" book and on the page with fondue was a cheese casserole recipe which sounded like the sisters' specialty. What the heck, I thought, I'll try it for Ash Wednesday. 
   To my surprise and delight, it tasted just as good as I remembered and my kids thought it was the best food they ever tasted. For years, they too, anticipated their annual Ash Wednesday treat. I learned later at a retreat at the monastery in Conyers that this version of fondue was an economy dish to use up stale bread. It was in the spirit of sacrifice that the nuns served it. It wasn't their fault it tasted so good.
   I haven't made my Ash Wednesday fondue for several years now because our church has adopted the wonderful Southern Baptist tradition of Wednesday night suppers. One night a week I can go out on a date with my husband and visit with friends at church. And best of all, I can savor Neal Leggette, Sr.'s gourmet cooking. It's a miracle what Neal can create on a shoestring budget.
   I asked Neal what he's cooking for Ash Wednesday.
   "Fish stew and crab salad," he said.
   Sounds as heavenly as fondue, I thought, and far too exotic for Ash Wednesday.
   "What ingredients are you using?" 
   "I don't know yet. Whatever fish is on sale. Whatever vegetables I have around."
   OK, Neal, as long as you do it in that spirit, I don't have to feel guilty about how good I know it's going to taste.

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