Below is one of my favorite posts, posted originally on July 4, 2010:

It’s the fourth of July today, and my family has converged on the family farm for the great annual bash. On and off since yesterday evening, strapping grandsons have been carrying cartons of beer, wine, soda, water, and iced tea up to the deck, where great drums of ice stand ready to receive them all.

I walked upstairs this morning to see my mother arranging a mountain of rolls, just collected from the Italian bakery, in a huge basket lined with a blue-striped cloth napkin. My dad is outside riding his kaboda, a mini-tractor, and positioning the grills, chairs, and recycling bins. Tall piles of burgers (from a steer raised at my parents) are thawing in the kitchen, and my mother’s homemade cole slaw and potato salad are blending flavors in the refrigerator. The gorgeous, cool green cabbages for the cole slaw were harvested from my mom’s garden last night, and an early morning, last-minute trip down to the vegetable garden has yielded the last of the season’s lettuce greens.

My assignment is to cut and arrange trays of peaches, plums, and mangos for the celebration. I also have blueberries and cherries, plus raspberries, which are ripening all over my parents’ farm this time of year.

Across the street, our neighbors Connie and Duane are composing several magnificent marinated salads, and my mouth waters as I contemplate the taste of them. Just a few nights ago, to give you an example of the culinary spectacles for which Connie and Duane are known, they arrived for an entirely different meal with a large tray laden with mounds of marinated asparagus, haricot verts, sharp Parmigiana triangles, basil and lettuce leaves, and thickly cut tomatoes sprinkled with fresh oregano and fresh black pepper. Generous and humble both, they always insist that they tossed everything together in just a few minutes. Incidentally, Connie is the daughter of a fireworks scion from the Midwest, a fact that makes us feel like we have fourth-of-July royalty in our midst.

In a few hours, the holiday table will be piled high with a cornucopia of plenty. I saw the fixings for a gallon of black bean, corn, and cilantro salsa on my sister-in-law’s counter yesterday morning. There is a good chance that Aunt Gerda will bring a bowl of the same creamy arborio rice pudding she brought to my wedding 30 years ago. Libby always brings a beautiful fruit pie, some years peach and others strawberry-rhubarb, and sometimes she brings her guitar, too. My sister is a cantor, and she has invited some of her friends. So in addition to the great smells and tastes, I expect that there will also be some great music coming from here in a little while. Food is not the only thing by which we will be nourished today. The music and friendship will last late into the night.

A few days ago, I picked up a bucket of silly bands to share with all the children we’re expecting today, and I grabbed a few of the red, white and blue ones for myself. Ever since the grandparents taught a bunch of their grandchildren to play cribbage a few years ago, and then began to attend competitions together, the big kids have been honing their skills. So some of them will spend the afternoon playing cribbage in the air-conditioned living room. The annual soccer game will convene in the field, and it will probably end with a large influx of young people cannonballing themselves into the pool. With temperatures expected to reach the mid 90’s, I imagine that the pool will see more activity than usual today.

I hope you enjoy your celebrations, large and small.

When we no longer have good cooking in the world, we will have no literature, nor high and sharp intelligence, nor friendly gatherings, nor social harmony.  —Marie-Antoine Carême

Eating with the fullest pleasure — pleasure, that is, that does not depend on ignorance — is perhaps the profoundest enactment of our connection with the world. In this pleasure we experience and celebrate our dependence and our gratitude, for we are living from mystery, from creatures we did not make and powers we cannot comprehend.  —Wendell Berry

Seize the moment. Remember all those women on the Titanic who waved off the dessert cart.  —Erma Bombeck