Meals you remember.

greenspun.com : LUSENET : Xeney : One Thread

Do you have a strong memory for flavors and tastes? Do you remember entire menus from important dinners long after you've forgotten who attended? What is the most memorable meal you can think of, and do you remember it mostly for the food, or because of who was there and what happened?

I always remember the food. From childhood I remember my mother's canned plums and peaches, which we used to have at the end of meals. I remember a perfect meat loaf she and I made when I was very young, maybe in junior high -- it had mushrooms and blue cheese and was baked in a crust, with a tangy mushroom gravy. I remember an extra-special Thanksgiving dinner one year when it was just the four of us; I especially remember the French onion soup with cheese melted over the sides of the soup tureens. I remember the year she made cioppino for Christmas dinner. I remember my dad's thick, spicy spaghetti sauce, with meatballs as big as a man's fist.

Damn, it's a good thing I made chocolate chip cookies last night, because I'm really hungry.

-- Anonymous, July 31, 2001

Answers

I remember driving down Highway 1 and stopping at restaurant by the sea called the Distillery and having wine and seafood pasta with my husband. The interior was dimly lit and thick fog pressed against the windows, making it impossible to really see anything outside.

I remember pitchers of ghastly cheep beer and chips and cheese dip at Two Talls in Kirksville ... good conversation, good company, and a long walk home afterwards.

-- Anonymous, July 31, 2001


Sad things make me remember so very clearly:

I remember exactly what we were having for dinner when I learned my parents were getting a divorce. We had baked chicken, which my mother would dip in butter and egg and coat in bread crumbs, mashed potatoes and salad. I got up from the table at some point and when I was returning I heard one of my older sisters say, "Don't tell muffet." "Don't tell me what?" I asked, and my mother gently drew me to her and pulled me into her lap. My sisters slinked out of their chairs and into the family room. She told me, and I cried and cried and she held me and rocked me in the swivel kitchen chair next to plates with chicken bones on them. "I don't want you to get a divorce," I said. "I know," she said and she started to cry. I was 10 years old.

When I was 26, my mother's boyfriend of 14 years was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He went into rapid decline. My mother had to teach an evening class and she didn't want Tom to be alone, so my sister and I went to their house to have dinner with him and hang out. We ordered a pepperoni pizza and when it arrived, Tom took a slice and left the living room to go eat in the dining room. When I went to join him he said he'd rather eat alone. Back in the living room, my sister and I could hear Tom gag as he tried to eat. He didn't want us to see that. He died two weeks later.

-- Anonymous, July 31, 2001


I remember my grandfather drinking his coffee from the saucer and eating bowls of crumbled cornbread soaked in milk.

I remember that every trip to their house the first thing we'd do is sit in the kitchen and eat my grandmother's stack cake (yellow cake layers with applesauce filling, it's a Southern thing).

I spent one Thanksgiving in Denver with an ex-boyfriend. I remember very little about the weekend but the desert is vivid. It was the first and only time I've been to a restaurant for Thanksgiving. It's was a very nice restaurant and the first time I'd ever been to a non- chain restaurant. I had Chocolate Bag for desert. It was a dark chocolate shell shaped like lunch bag, filled with custard. So good! Paul had pumpkin pie that was drizzled with chocolate sauce and to this day I love pumpkin and chocolate together.

I remember the first time rog made me lobster and steamers at home. In Ohio lobster is insanely expensive and it's rare for anyone I knew to eat it in a restaurant let alone make it at home. Here in Boston it's affordable and common. I remember how good the lobster was, discovering how much better the lobster fat was, just how amazing the dinner was and how impressed I was that he made it. I'm still impressed every time.

-- Anonymous, July 31, 2001


I like to eat, but I barely remember food.

I wasn't even aware of this till I read Tender At The Bone by Ruth Reichel, and she describes meals she had with her grandmother and with school friends and while travelling and so forth. I tried to remember meals I'd had with my grandmothers, and could only remember the bread and butter with sugar sprinkled on it that one grandmother would give me. I had a clearer memory of the cookie jar she had: it was shaped like Little Red Riding Hood (and how I wish I had it now.)

I can barely remember meals with my family, meals we had while travelling (except for some really bad ones), special meals.

I enjoyed the book but though, what a weirdo, she's never forgotten a meal. But now I think I'm the weirdo.

I remember music and relationships and my feelings about them. If I hear a song it takes me back to what was going on that summer or whatever.

-- Anonymous, July 31, 2001


I should organize my diaries by the food I ate as opposed to the dates. Oh, wait, someone already does this: pocketpig. She draws pictures of the food.

First meeting with G? I had a blackened chicken sandwich. He had wings. He ate the pickle that came with my sandwich. Took it from my plate without even saying please.

21st birthday? Tapas bar.

Last year's birthday? A feast of french food.

Grandmother? Italian Stew served in these nifty brown bowls. When I grew up, I found out that the bowls are actually French onion soup bowls. They're tastier with stew.

College=black bean soup and freshly made french bread. I fed hordes of strangers my senior year, I did. I don't make much of either anymore (unless the soup uses a different recipe--one involving jalapenos and sirloin. That recipe is Christmas 1997. Eaten with my friend Rick on Christmas Day, before going downtown to see a movie.) because I was horrifically stressed and frightened my senior year of college.

I remember things because of both the flavors and smells and the events. It's all frightfully entertwined.

-- Anonymous, July 31, 2001



The most memorable meal I can think of right now is the seafood chowder I had in Prince Edward Island, the day after the wedding of some good friends. Everyone was recovering from the festivities of the night before, which had ended very early that morning. The food for the brunch included left over wedding cake. The bride's mother made the best seafood chowder I have ever tasted (and will ever taste, I'm sure). People sat around on the deck chatting and eating and slipping food to the dog, before heading their separate ways.

-- Anonymous, July 31, 2001

My grandfather was another coffee-in-the-saucer person. Every day between lunch and dinner he'd have coffee, Cracker Barrel cheese, and crackers. I had cheese too because I was Grandpa's girl through and through, and I would sit next to him and nibble while he waited for this coffee to cool and sang songs to me about Old Dan Tucker. My grandfather's been gone a long time, but that cheese will bring him back to me for the rest of my life.

-- Anonymous, July 31, 2001

My husband and I started hanging out because I complimented him on his stuffed mushrooms (why does that sound funny when I say it out loud?!), and he invited me over to learn how to make them. (Note: I don't cook. He found that out 2 minutes into the 'lesson'. We've discovered that if I read as he cooks, we're extremely compatible in the kitchen). Food I associate with my grandmother and mom: khoresheteh bademjan (rice with eggplant and meat); fesenjan (duck cooked in pomegranate sauce and cursh walnuts); komach (lord, I don't even know how to describe this--it's a spicy desert roll(?) fried in vegetable oil); and dolmah (stuffed grape leaves). Food I associate with my dad: stewed figs, and any kind of jam, especially quince and apricot. Food I associate with my sister: lasagna and chili. Food I associate with the year we lived in Spain: warm French baguette, Nutella, and strawberry milk (no, nothing Spanish!) Food I associate with England: rhubarb pie (no strawberries!) and Bird's Eye custard; sausage rolls; baked beans on toast, Yorksire pudding covered with gravy. Darn, I am drooling now...

-- Anonymous, July 31, 2001

The first thing we ever ate in Madrid -- a plate of churros and cups of chocolate. The tips of our fingers burning as we pulled apart the dough. Dipping crispy, sweet chunks into the red glazed cups. Licking off drops of cocoa that dripped down onto our hands. Spanish chocolate is thick, and very bittersweet. You can feel the sugar on your tongue, slightly gritty. You don't want to eat or drink anything afterwards, for hours. You want to keep that taste in your mouth.

-- Anonymous, July 31, 2001

I remember when I was little my dad would sit at the kitchen table and eat bowls of peanut butter mixed with Karo syrup. He even smelled like that, like maple syrup and peanut butter. I would walk by every so often and he would give me a small bite. I remember my mom used to eat cornbread in a bowl of milk (gotta love that Southern food).

I remember sitting at the table for hours eating cheetos, drinking grape Kool-Aid and reading comic books. That hasn't really changed much as I still eat that exact combination every so often when I need some comforting (and I still read comic books).

I remember that the first time I visited Seattle we went to Ray's Boathouse and had wonderful salmon burgers with big bowlfuls of rich, thick clam chowder. We sat on the patio and watched the sun set over the Olympic Mountains. I remember the first time I made pot roast for Tom and he said it was better than his mother's. I remember at my grandmother's wake there were A LOT of KFC chicken buckets (once again, a die-hard Southerner).

I tend to remember the food as well...much better than actual events.

-- Anonymous, July 31, 2001



Jayran, I first proposed to my future husband because of his stuffed mushrooms. Perhaps we should ensure we're married to separate individuals?

I remember a flourless chocolate cake I had at the first best restaurant (Davio's in Boston) I ever went to as a freshling in college; a piece of swordfish that melted in my mouth at a restaurant in Southbury, Connecticut, on Mother's Day 1991 with my then-boyfriend; the sour taste of beer that my father would give me in sips when I was little, sitting on the back stoop after he mowed; watching "The Wizard of Oz" with a schoolfriend eating popcorn in an entire stick of butter that we had bought ourselves; carrots the way my grandmother made them, in sticks instead of circles, with a stick of cinnamon; the difference between grilled cheese sandwiches made with Velveeta vs. American cheese; the taste of green beans straight off the bush; especially the taste of the first beans I ever grew myself, this summer; trying to eat when I was so stressed I couldn't and didn't for days on end and the slime of bile at the back of my throat; the first time I had one of Jo's baguettes; the hard tang of water from my mother's well; and the croissants I tried to make for French class in seventh grade and how wrong they were because I used baking sode instead of baking powder.

-- Anonymous, July 31, 2001


Lisa,

If he makes a killer triple chocolate cheesecake, candied yams to die for, and seems to learn recipes through osmosis, then we need to talk!

One funny memory I have of childhood is the time my dad insisted on cooking turnips. I don't remember why he wanted to, but I do remember my mom refusing to cook in the kitchen for days after because it "smelled like feet".

Burning hot chunks of beet, sold by street vendors, are one of my first memories associated with Tehran. Cool summer drinks like diluted peach/lemon syrup, cherry syrup, mint syrup, diluted yogurt (similar to the Indian drink 'lassi'), and watermelon juice (watermelonade?!) remind me of lazy afternoons spent at my paternal grandparents house.

My very first meal in the U.S. was a pretzel, bought at JFK Int'l. I put ketchup on it.

-- Anonymous, August 01, 2001


I've only begun to remember food as I get older.

I remember the taste of the cheese on the snack plate my husband and I had in our hotel the night of our wedding. Somehow the champagne made it taste better.

I remember the mahi-mahi sandwhich we had in Hawaii on this perfect day -- the breeze, the sand and the ocean were gorgeous, and the fish was tastey but not "fishy."

The one childhood food memory I have is of potato-cheese soup. My Mom and Dad made it together on the night they decided to not get divorced. It is the only time I remember seeing them happy together, and the soup was wonderful. A year later, they were separated again, and soon after divorced. I cherish the memory of that soup.

-- Anonymous, August 01, 2001


4 pounds of crawfish and several glasses of root beer when I was 8... at the Crazy Cajun in Galveston, TX, where the toilets are hidden inside of a wooden bench so it feels like an outhouse. I remember my lips being swollen and red and peeing like a racehorse. I also remember the funny host who made jokes to the guests outside.

Again, crawfish my freshman year at Texas A&M. It was one of those "special" meals so they handed out tickets as you came into the cafeteria... but no one else was eating so they let you come back for extras. Which I did. 4 times. I remember that I was very depressed that week, and the crawfish had been my turning point.

My brother would come visit me once a month when I was in the Corps and we would always go the Black Eyed Pea where we'd have (what else?) black eyed peas and cornbread... I remember feeling my brother's love more strongly than ever before because the trips were hard on him... but it was a priority to him to take care of his little brother. Those monthly visits were highlights in a dark time of my life.

Raspberry Creme Brulee (sp?), last March, first time. Everyone at our table (on a cruise ship) was moaning like it was a group orgy. It was fan-freakin-tastic.

-- Anonymous, August 01, 2001


when i was a little bitty thing and we lived in nashville my parents used to make chinese food on sundays because you couldn't get good chinese takeout in nashville back then. i remember a duck hanging upside-down by its feet from the rack of calphalon pots, its head dangling over a plate on the counter, and i remember begging my dad to let me peel the mandarin pancakes apart, and being so proud when he let me do a couple and i managed not to tear them. (i also remember telling my friend tania about this when i was in college, and she was impressed.)

one year they had a big fancy chinese banquet for some of their friends that i wasn't allowed to be part of, altho i did hang around the kitchen. all i remember from that is the chinese sausages (pink and greasy and sweet) and the shrimp chips, which they bought dried and dumped in the wok (which was full of oil) to puff up. i kept a close eye on my mom so when her back was turned i could grab a couple. they were crunchy and vaguely shrimpy and came in pretty pastel colors, and i liked them more than shrimp toast.

oh, and there was also a box of dried mushrooms that had been colonized by ants, which came marching out when we opened it. i still have a hard time eating dried fungus. and i LIKE mushrooms. :P

and i remember both years my mom made green potato kugel, which looked appalling but tasted fine, and the third year it looked the way it's supposed to, nice and golden, but it was about half an inch thick. i ate it anyway, because it was good.

-- Anonymous, August 01, 2001



i remember visiting my gramma every summer from 5-15 years old and each morning she would make bacon and toast for breakfast. the first few years were for shared with my grandad, but after he passed away it was always 'our' time (my parents & brothers liked to sleep in). i'm sure we ate a pound of bacon and a loaf of bread every morning! she also made a special homemade treat for each of us at every visit: raspberry pie for me, butterscotch squares for one brother, butter tarts for the other, strawberry pie for my dad & lemon meringue pie for my mom...

she passed away in 1993 and i think of her each & every time i smell bacon cooking or make pie crust

-- Anonymous, August 01, 2001


Moderation questions? read the FAQ