Parish Breakfast

The parish I grew up in shared a meal after Sunday morning liturgies. Everyone took turns cooking for the whole congregation (no easy feat). A few parishioners became notorious for their ‘adventurous’ menus.

Before anyone comes at me like “But that food sounds tasty”: there’s a big difference between eating pickled herring because you want to and eating pickled herring when you’d been expecting homemade lasagna.

Also, kasha is gross and that’s a hill I’m willing to die on.