Mama’s was like that, too, and I seem to recall she just followed the recipe on the Eagle Brand can!
ETA: Eagle Brand® | 404
:eek:
Someone will be along presently to explain that is wrong with the phrase I bolded. I’d do it myself but I am too busy weeping.
Jeez - you had the REAL STUFF! The Kraft stuff is the loser fake mac n’ cheese. Brings me to tears too.
Harry’s tacos. He made his own taco meat every time, no prepackaged taco seasoning for him. I remember him dumping lots of cumin in there. It was a little greasy and it was good. He always started it with leftover taco meat he froze from the last time. He used to say there was at least one molecule in there from 1973.
I will only eat my mom’s fried chicken and potato salad. My brother insists that I make the tartar sauce every time we have a fish fry. My friends will only eat my rhubarb pie, and I will only enjoy cheesecake made by my husband.
Given how much we all like to eat, I’m surprised there isn’t more!
When my grandmother made okra, I ate it. When my mother and aunt made it, claiming it was the same recipe–well, it just wasn’t. Sorry, that’s slimy nasty stuff.
Basically I prefer food that has been cooked by somebody else. It just tastes better if somebody else cooks it.
In an earlier thread on the subject, there was some discussion that “macaroni and cheese casserole” refers to the home baked concoction, while “Mac & Cheese” refers to the boxed stuff from Kraft and similar. This may be the usage here.
There are many things that only my Mom can make exactly right: chili, sauteed zuchini, and a fresh green salad, for example.
I think my grandma made it from the same kind of pie filling, but used less sugar or more lemon juice or both in the recipe.
My husband makes tacos to die for.
Simply the best ever.
My mother in law made tamales that can never be duplicated.
She’s deceased, so I just make do with non-Maria tamales.
My mom will not eat carrot cake made by anyone but me. I did switch it up a little for her most recent birthday and made carrot cake whoopie pies. Those were almost equally acceptable to her.
Two things from my dear old Mom:
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Pot Roast. Electric frying pan on low, Lipton onion soup mix, water, chopped potatoes. Simmer all afternoon, periodically adding water. I’ve tried it myself a few times, but it’s always too dry, or too chewy, or something. Mom’s was always perfect.
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Pumkin Pie. Like Zeldar’s Mama and the lemon meringue, she just uses the recipe on the Libby’s can. But somehow, no other pumpkin pie I’ve ever tried has had just the right texture and blend of spices. Mmmm…
Like Wheelz, my mom’s pumpkin pie. When she gave me the recipe, I was surprised to find out that it was just the Libby’s one with extra cinnamon and nutmeg.
I’ll eat meatloaf made by other people, but one of my aunts makes the perfect one.
On the flip side, my dad’s favorite fudge is the chocolate-peppermint variety that I make. My great-nephew also thinks that I’m the only one who can make baked macaroni and cheese.
I can’t eat steak at my parents. Growing up she’d usually serve steak about once or twice a month depending on the season. It was also her goto food whenever she wanted to make something special or celebrate something. She buys huge cuts of the cheapest meat she finds (because it’s such a good value :rolleyes:), then overcooks it (her idea of “rare” is just a bit a pink in the center). Both she and my father like their steak well-done.
Until I was 16 I though steak was one of the most disgusting foods ever (right up there with liver & onions). I couldn’t understand why it was supposed to be so special, or why people were exictied to eat it. She’d serve me a huge, overcooked steak, I manage to eat maybe half before I started gagging, and the rest would either go to my father or the dogs.
Then one summer night I was at my older brother’s 4th of July party. He made steaks on the grill and insisted I try one. It was heavenly. Perfectly marinated and practically blood rare. 
I then discovered that steak could tase good. To this day my mother still can’t understand why I’ll order steak in restaurants (& only an upscale one at that), but won’t eat steak when she makes it (especially since it’s so much bigger):rolleyes:.
Oh, and until I was about 21/22 if we were all in a restaurant and I ordered a rare steak she’s insist on explaining to the waitress what I “really meant” when I said rare :mad: (her idea of rare being medium/medium well). This often greatly confused said waitress and half the time resulting in me getting a medium steak and sending it back without eating it (mortifying Mom in the process). :rolleyes: The other half of the time I’d actually get what I ordered and she’d just make a few comments along the lines of “but it doesn’t looked like it was cooked properly”, but other she’d drop it.
My own split pea soup.
I hate peas as does my daughter. Even the smell of them makes me gag. But somehow I learned how to cook a split pea soup with leftovers from a glazed ham (it has to be glazed ham leftovers or it doesn’t work) that does not taste or smell like peas at all. It tastes like really thick ham soup.
The men in my family like peas and like the soup too, but this is the only time either me or my daughter will eat peas.
I’ve have gotten rave reviews on my breads, meatloaf, split pea soup, and ribs at our church potluck, the church members perferred my food over that of another member who ran and cooked at her own restaurant, but I like her pecan and peach pies over any one elses including store bought. I like my sisters scones over mine even though we use the same recipe. Some times I think that if you enjoy making and preparing the food it shows in subtle ways.
My dad’s Matzoh kugel is seriously to die for. I’ve assisted the process numerous times, but when I’ve made it a few times using a recipe I know to include many of my dad’s tricks (like using chicken fat for the oil)… in the words of my husband “it’s very good, but not as good as your dad’s.”
People say I make the best pecan pie, but I just use the recipe on the Karo bottle so I’m not seeing it.
My mum’s lemon cheesecake. I’m a pretty good cook, but I cannot make it come out right. So every time I go home, she has to make me one!
I just asked my partner if there was anything I made that was nicer than when other people made it. The very gratifying response was, “Practically everything”. 
A small longing litany is now occurring - I’m not exactly listening, but a small wistful voice seems to be murmuring about roast dinners, sausagemeat pie, cabbage lasagne, prawn curry, etc!
Of course!
Nana’s cream of zucchini soup, and her oatcakes.
Grandma’s cabbage rolls, jellies, relishes.
Mom’s scones and loafs.
Uncle’s stuffing.
There are a few items which I have become adept at making, some even come close to the original maker’s in taste (cabbage rolls for example) and others nowhere near despite using the same recipe from the same cookbook (the soup).
Apparently mom thinks I make the best lasagna, spaghetti sauce, roast, cookies and a few other items.
My Grandma Cassie made the best Apple Butter ever. If she had sold it, she would have been a rich, rich woman. None of us are sure how she made it ( I think it involved cinnimon Imperials) But I’ve never tasted anything that comes close.