Unapologetic Joy, Extra Dressing: When Lorraine Came to Town

When Cousin Lorraine flew in from Seattle, the house didn’t just prepare—it braced itself. Not just the furniture—though the dining room chairs did let out a collective groan—but the very walls seemed to lean in, knowing they were about to be baptized in laughter, stories, and a tidal wave of unapologetic appetite.

Lorraine was a Christian Scientist. A rather unusual one. If one of her kids broke an arm, she’d slap on a prayer and a Popsicle stick and call it divine intervention. But if her horse sneezed? The vet was summoned with a sense of urgency. “Animals don’t have free will,” she’d explain, “so they need medical help.” We never quite understood the theology, but we admired the conviction—and the consistency with which she applied it to livestock.

She was a woman of substance—physically, spiritually, and gastronomically. She didn’t nibble. She consumed. She didn’t whisper. She declared. And when she sat at our dining room table with my dad and Uncle Robert, the stories flowed.

We’d heard them all before. The tales of childhood mischief, family feuds, and the legendary Morgan brothers: Gub, Rub, Gum, and Shine. Yes, those were their actual names. Lorraine would beam with pride and recite like it was scripture: “Gub, rubbed, gum until he shined.” And we’d lose it. Every time. Rolling on the floor, clutching our sides, wondering how a single sentence could contain so much absurdity and joy.

But the highlight of one particular visit? Our pilgrimage to Cunetto’s House of Pasta in St. Louis.

We’d hyped it up for days. “The salad alone is worth the airfare,” we told her. “It’s not just lettuce—it’s a religious experience.” Lorraine was skeptical. “How good can a salad be?” she asked, eyeing us like we were part of some romaine cult.

Then we got there.

She spotted the salad at the next table and gasped like she’d seen the Holy Ghost in crouton form. “Ohhh,” she whispered reverently, “now I get it.” She ordered the large salad, sautéed chicken livers (because of course she did), fettucine with white sauce, and garlic bread. It was a lineup that could’ve fed a small wedding party.

The salad arrived. I turned my head for one second—ONE—and when I looked back, it was gone. Vanished. Not a shred of lettuce in sight. Lorraine was dabbing her lips with a napkin like she’d just finished a polite tea sandwich. “I’ll have another, but just a small one this time” she said, as if she hadn’t just inhaled a salad the size of a throw pillow.

Halfway through salad number two, she spotted a tiramisu being delivered to the next table. Her eyes narrowed. “You think we’ll have room for dessert?” she asked, already plotting. By the time the pasta arrived, she was in full culinary ecstasy. She licked the sauce off the plate. And yes, she ordered the tiramisu. And yes, she moaned when she ate it.

We left Cunetto’s that night full of carbs, joy, and stories we’d retell for years. Lorraine declared it “the best meal of my life,” and honestly, we believed her.

🪨 Empathy on the Rocks Reflection

There’s something sacred about watching someone you love dive into a meal with unapologetic joy. Lorraine didn’t ask for permission to enjoy herself—she just did. And in doing so, she gave the rest of us permission to laugh louder, eat more, and savor the moment without apology.

That night wasn’t just about pasta. It was about presence. About honoring the stories we’ve heard a hundred times because they still make us laugh. About remembering that joy doesn’t have to be quiet or polite. Sometimes, it’s loud, saucy, and licking the plate clean.

Cunetto’s House Salad (Copykat Version)

Ingredients:

• Romaine and iceberg lettuce, chopped

• Shredded provolone and Parmesan cheese

• Sliced green onions

• Diced pimentos

• Crumbled bacon (don’t skimp)

• Croutons (the crunchier, the better)

Dressing:

• 1 cups vegetable oil (Yep! Not olive oil for this recipe - trust it!)

• 6 tbsp red wine vinegar

• 1 tsp cornstarch

• 3 tsp anchovy paste (yes, trust me)

• ½ tsp garlic powder

• ½ tsp sugar

• ½ tsp oregano

• Salt and pepper to taste

1. Instructions:

1. Whisk dressing ingredients until emulsified.

2. Toss lettuce, cheeses, onions, and pimentos.

3. Add dressing just before serving.

4. Top with bacon and croutons.

5. Make a double batch if Cousin Lorraine is anywhere within a 50-mile radius.

6. Serve it with laughter. Tell the story again. Let someone interrupt. And if someone licks the plate, don’t judge—just pass the tiramisu.