One of my favorite things, but unfortunately not a good memory.
Earlier this summer, my sister, mom and I made strawberry jam together. I had bought the strawberries. Unfortunately, the day we had planned to do it was also the day I had some kind of personal meltdown and ended up crying, literally, all day. It was the worst day I can ever remember having. Having to stand there and make jam and having this hurricane of thought in my head. Not able to explain what was going on to my mom (she wouldn’t understand and it would’ve freaked her out) or my sister (cause my mom was there). Ugh. Horrible rotten pustulent day. Hope I never have to go through one like that again.
On the bus a couple years ago, I used to get motion sickness. I’d come home and make a bowl of instant grits, topped with salt and pepper and slathered with enough butter to turn it a substantially yellow tint.
The one and only time I spend the night at my friend Marna’s house in 4th grade, her mom made grits the next morning. I had never had them, and wouldn’t believe them when they said they taste best with salt and butter. So I added brown sugar and, since I was used to Cream of Wheat, cream. The mass expanded, and yet tasted no better. So I added more sugar. Still bland and icky. Hmmmm, thinks I, must need more cream. Still tasteless? More sugar is needed, naturally! Pretty soon I had a beige, sticky, and still-tasteless mass spreading all the way across my plate and a very angry Marna’s Mom. Her mom was a very strict and intimidating lady-- the type to be overprotective and expect nothing less than perfection from her children and, as it turned out, small guests.
She made me eat it all. I’ll never forgive her for that.
I didn’t try grits again until a couple of years ago. They really are better with butter and salt.
When I was little we used to visit friends in Canada who had a cottage on lake Superior. Near the house, out in the woods we used to go picking wild blueberries. Few made it back to the house. It was also thrilling when they pointed out the bear scat around the bushes, but we never saw an actual bear, except at the dump. (No, my parents didn’t let us get near them. They weren’t idiots.)
Chocolate ice cream.
Just a few days ago, sitting here in front of the computer, munching on a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie while playing my billionth game of SimCity 2000.
Is there a woman alive who hasn’t, at some point in her life, wanted to give oral sex to Ben and Jerry?
Next food (since I’m eating it right now): chicken noodle soup.
My grandmother makes the best chicken soup on earth. No other soup can come close to it.
Everytime I get a cold, or my yearly bout with bronchitis, she makes me a huge batch of it. Made from scratch, with carrots, celery, leeks, mushrooms, egg noodles and rice.
She won’t give anyone the recipe but said she’ll leave it to me in her will.
Gee, my throat feels kind of scratchy. Better call Grandma.
Next food…Popcorn
When I was 16, I went away for the weekend with my cousin Jennifer. She was 18, and we rented a motel room in Montauk, Long Island. We smoked a lot of weed and ate Smartfood popcorn for two days. We started jumping from bed to bed, and one time I missed and bounced off the side of the bed and landed on my ass, and also somehow kicking an open bag of Smartfood, causing popcorn to go everywhere. My cousin laughed so hard she peed her pants.
Oranges…
When I was in high school, I was in the band. We sold fruit every November/December, and we had to go one Saturday every year and help unload the truck. It was always cold, it was incredibly cold. After we had it all unloaded and everyone had picked up their fruit to deliver, we hung out inside the school for a while to warm up. My brother got on the intercom and said “Hello, this is God speaking”…not fiver minutes later the band director came running around wanting to know who did that and why, with his face all red.
Next food:
Pringles chips
I always like eating the last of the Pringles. You put the plastic lid back on the can, lay the can on the floor and stomp on it. The lid flies off with a pop.
My memory of whipped cream is when I got a bit confused trying to make it. For egg whites, you want the eggs warm, a warm bowl and warm beaters. For whipped cream, you want everything as cold as possible.
So about two minutes into whipping this (carefully warmed) cream I had very nice, pure, fresh…butter.
Spam is hideous but I do have one sorta pleasant memory. My son’s cub scout Spam-boree where his group won a cooking contest. The requirement was for the boys to use spam as the main ingredient.
I don’t know what it is about them, I just don’t like 'em. I like chocolate. I like strawberries. I hate chocolate covered strawberries. I hate the way the chocolate flakes off and sticks to my teeth, it’s waxy or something. ::bleh::
Fruit And Chocolate Shall Not Mix is one of my personal Food Rules.
Peanut butter cookies. I remember flying on British Airways and getting a nice tea with them…featuring Cheese cookies filled with peanut butter…I am fairly adventursome with crackers and cookies, but I could not bring myself to eat those.
