"That was priestly," he said, while emptying a few chicken bones off his plate into the kitchen garbage can. We ate dinner later than usual. It was one of my use-whatever-is-in-the-refrigerator-nights. I had put a seven pound roaster in the oven, stuffed with a handful of basil and a few sage leaves from the garden, plus a whole garlic clove, unpeeled. I also tried a new recipe from The Old Farmer's Almanac calendar that I wasn't too sure of how the guys would react since it involved more yellow squash from the garden, somewhat disguised.
Baked Summer Squash
2 overgrown yellow squash, sliced
1/2 chopped small onion
1 Tbs. sugar
1 tsp. salt
ground black pepper
1 cup bread crumbs
1 stick of butter (I used 2 Tbs. butter and 2 tbs. olive oil)
Boil or steam the squash until tender, recommended time 3-5 minutes (mine took 20, due to rind). Drain the squash in a colander, then put into a casserole dish and mash with a strong potato masher. Add the onion, eggs, sugar, salt, and pepper. Stir to incorporate (seriously, that is the actual wording used.) You're supposed to melt the butter and "toss to coat" the bread crumbs. I just added the oil to the bread crumbs and dotted the top with bits of butter. Then I sprinkled parmesan cheese and wheat germ, on a whim. Bake at 375 degrees F. for 45 minutes. Made a salad while waiting.
More often than not, my sons' conversations involve computer or programming topics, and/or video game references. So it was highly likely, in my mind, the remark about priestly referred to either of those areas. I also considered perhaps it had been a comment on the meal, language changing all the time, especially among the under thirty set.
When asked what he meant, my son looked at me, said he couldn't remember what he said, but was going to start using the phrase as a compliment. Currently they are in a Counter-Strike: Global Offensive phase, with members of the clan from Argentina, Canada, and local family and friends. I can just hear it, "Dude, that was priestly."