A Morning of Merit, An Afternoon of Italian
It’s hot as all get out in North Texas these days. The kind of hot that feels like it’ll burn your skin the second you step outside. I can’t tell if this summer is actually hotter than last summer, or if I have this exact thought every July.
Yesterday, my mom wanted to go to the Buddhist temple to make merit before the start of Vassa, the Theravada Buddhist Lent. Vassa is a three-month annual retreat when monks remain at one temple, focusing on study, meditation, and spiritual practice. We brought offerings to support the temple and the monastic community—a bag of rice, bottles of fish sauce and soy sauce, bottled water, and hygiene items. I’ve been going to this temple since I was a child—about 40 years now, I guess.
Whenever we visit, my mom always spends a long time deciding what food to prepare and bring as an offering. At our temple, everyone brings food to offer the monks. It’s a tradition that looks a little different here than it does in Thailand. In Thailand, monks leave the temple each morning to walk through the community, accepting alms of food from laypeople. In the U.S., that’s much more difficult because of distance, transportation, and the way our communities are spread out. Instead, families bring food to the temple so the monks can receive their daily meal there. It’s one of those traditions that has adapted to a different place while still holding onto the same spirit of generosity and making merit.
We purposely went to the temple on Saturday, the day before the official start of Vassa at our temple, to avoid the large crowd that always gathers on Sunday. The familiar routine of making offerings, receiving blessings, and chanting didn’t take very long, though I remember it feeling endless when I was a child. Funny how time changes our perspective.
After the monks had eaten their meal, everyone who had brought food was invited to share in the potluck. We don’t always stay, though. More often than not, my mom and I slip away for one of our favorite traditions—a mother-and-daughter lunch date. It’s a simple way to end the morning together, carrying the spirit of the temple into the rest of the day.
Since my mom doesn’t eat out very often, I like to take her somewhere she enjoys or introduce her to someplace new whenever we have the chance. That day, I was really craving pasta, and fortunately, Mom likes Italian food too. We decided on Brio Italian Grille, about 20 minutes from the temple. I expected it to be packed since it was lunchtime on a Saturday, but we lucked out and were seated almost immediately.
Everything on the menu sounded delicious, but unfortunately ordering one of everything wasn’t exactly realistic. If calamari is on the menu, it’s almost guaranteed to be my appetizer. The calamari itself was a little on the salty side, but the lemon aioli and spicy arrabbiata sauce that came with it more than made up for it. Both were so good that they became the perfect excuse to keep reaching for another piece of bread.
Speaking of the bread, I practically polished off the complimentary bread basket by myself. My mom thought it was a little too tangy—I suspect it was sourdough—but I loved it. I kept dipping the warm bread into the arrabbiata sauce and the lemon aioli until there was barely any left. By the time our entrées arrived, I was already wondering if I’d made a mistake. Between the calamari and all that bread, I was pretty close to full before my pasta even hit the table.
When we go to an Italian restaurant, my mom almost always orders lasagna or manicotti. Better yet, if there’s a combination platter with both, that’s usually her first choice. Since Brio didn’t have a sampler, she happily ordered the lasagna.
When it arrived, it was still bubbling from the oven and absolutely enormous. We both laughed because there was no way she was going to finish it. It was one of those portions that could easily be two meals. I ordered the Spaghetti Bolognese. I stopped eating beef more than a year ago, but every now and then I’ll make an exception for something I know I’ll really enjoy—like a taco or a rich meat sauce that’s made with a blend of beef and pork. I still refuse to eat steak though.
It was absolutely delicious. The Bolognese was hearty and flavorful, and the freshly grated Parmesan the waiter showered over the top made it even better. After all the calamari and bread I’d already eaten, I somehow still managed to enjoy every bite, though I definitely didn’t leave the restaurant hungry. Even though we were both completely full from lunch, we somehow still had room for dessert. We stopped by Paciugo for gelato—coffee for Mom and coconut for me.
Even though we each ordered the piccolo, their smallest size, the server piled our little cups surprisingly high with gelato. Mom finished every last bite of hers, but I couldn’t quite keep up. I ended up throwing away less than half, which almost never happens when dessert is involved.
With our stomachs happily full, we made the drive home. It was a good day. The North Texas heat was relentless, but there was a steady breeze that made being outside just a little more bearable. More importantly, it was a day spent with my mom—continuing traditions that have been part of my life for four decades while making new memories over pasta and gelato. Those are the kinds of days I’ll always treasure.
– C
