When all else fails, there's family. And food.

Like many people and for economic reasons, I, the already-starving artist, had to close my 13-year-old studio, give up my apartment and my beloved state of Michigan and move in with my sister and her family in their large North Carolinian home on Lake Norman. 

But they have economic woes of their own. Their business just went through bankruptcy. My brother-in-law is 60, so try finding a new job let alone beginning a whole new career at that age. The house itself is under a large question mark. To foreclose or not? None of us know where we will actually be a few months from now.

My neice just graduated high school and is attending community college. Her older sister has recently moved back home, quit her job as a bank teller, and will begin nursing school in just a few weeks. I finally found a part-time job at a grocery store, but the hours are few. People aren't grocery shopping like they used to.

 As my sister says, "We have a full house. Including two dogs and a cat!"

But every night we all sit around the table for dinner. Each night is festive as possible. I spend a lot of my time preparing dinner and often try to include a simple dessert. Afterwards, we linger at the table and talk while staring out the window at the blooming crepe myrtles. The conversation often turns to the past and childhood memories, a way to beat back the looming future.

Dinner is the bright spot of our day. It's a ritual that comforts and soothes, from the banging of pots and pans, to setting the table, to cleaning up. We pull out our favorite bowls and utensils. Old family recipes.

As soon as I begin, the younger and smaller dog takes his place on the carpet where he can gaze intently at my goings-on and desperately hopes for a fallen scrap or morsel that he scurries to gobble or lick.

Dinner is the time when we put away our worries, so we try to make it special everyday. A holiday. Food is the great comforter.

The meals aren't overly lavish. The other day I made a huge pot of spaghetti from nothing but leftovers that I had been saving in the freezer. Through the years, I've learned to be very, very frugal. And now it's paying off. Sometimes we splurge on shrimp.

After dinner, a walk, a bike ride, or puttering in the garden or dangling feet in the lake from the dock, we gather around the TV to watch "our shows." Sometime around nine o'clock, we have our dessert, usually brownies, a slice of chocolate cake, or, lately, a piece of berry pie. It  makes us feel wealthy and well-taken care of. Special.

For us (and the dogs) dinner is something to look forward to during a time when we try not to look forward to what is coming--whatever that is. It gives us purpose. And sustenance. I think even hope.

Somewhere "out there" it seems that a war is waging. It's caught up to us. I've already had to evacuate once. We keep waiting for it to end. To end rationing. To live in prosperous times again when one often "went out" to dinner on a whim. When home meant staying put.

My sister tells me I don't have to do all this cooking. But I know it's important. And I know that when we look back at this dark time in our lives, we will all remember the food we had. Everyone gathered at the table. A ritual as old as time itself and the silver lining of hard times for generations of families.

My Favorite Chocolate Cake with Almond Frosting

This is a perfect small cake that is easy to make and pretty fool proof. It has a great, moist texture and the frosting is . . . well . . . the icing on the cake! To make things easier, I often measure out all the dry ingredients the night before so I'm ready to go in the morning.

• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 square (1 oz.) unsweetened chocolate, melted
• 1 tablespoon cocoa
• 2 teaspoons baking soda
• 1 cup water
• 1 cup mayonaise
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Grease or spray a 9-inch square pan (you can also use a 7 x 11-inch pan). If you will be removing the cake from the pan in order to frost the sides, you may want to put a sheet of greased wax paper or parchment in the bottom.

Combine the dry ingredients in your favorite mixing bowl. Add the water, mayo and vanilla. Mix to stir. Add the melted chocolate and beat at medium speed until well-incorporated and blended. Pour into greased pan and bake at 350 degrees for about 30 minutes or so. The top should be slightly mounded and an inserted toothpick should come out clean. Cool before frosting.

Almond Frosting

• 2.5 cups confectioners sugar
• 4 ounces cream cheese
• 1/4 teaspoon almond extract and a few drops of vanilla
• 1 tablespoon milk