Don Henley said they are gone.
Food Memories
- Thread starter DoctorShavegood
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Don Henley said they are gone.
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- #42
I know, and that song always made me sad...a great song.
the greatest scent memory for me is my mom making spaghetti. She would use jarred sauce, but prior to sauce she'd brown hamburger, diced onions and bell peppers together and the scent would fill the house. Also, just the sheer number of casseroles consumed in our house was staggering. we bought cream of mushroom soup by the case (my dad's favorite was tuna noodle casserole with a crushed potato chip crust on top).
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- #44
....making pot roast in the crock pot with taters and carrots. She would put it all in before church. We'd arrive home after noon and the whole house would have the most wonderful beefy roasted sent. Served with white bread and butter with iced tea.
...scent memories are a powerful thing.
Another food that reminds me of eating out (remember, we didn't do it often)- fried rice. I was probably 10 or 11 when I discovered Chinese mustard, and I have used it since (although my fried rice usually contains pork now). Every time I have it I remember family night out, mainly because of the mustard.
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- #46
Now that you mention it, the first time I had a Chinese egg roll with the spicy mustard was at our little small town rodeo during Western Week
They were a new restaurant in town and they set up a booth. They were a huge success and became a nice member to our little community.
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I lived with my grandparents after my mother died (I was 13). They had been going to the same Chinese restaurant for about 20 years at the time (around 81). They moved away from Cleveland a time or two (my grandfather got sent to churches that were struggling), but they always came back to the same place. I last ate there in 92, and I am sure they are still there (when I go back I will look for them). They had those wontons that kind of remind one of Styrofoam- the would crinkle a bit when you dipped them in the soup. I haven't seen those things in our Chinese place (which the wife and I have been going to for at least 15 years)- they use the fried noodles.Now that you mention it, the first time I had a Chinese egg roll with the spicy mustard was at our little small town rodeo during Western Week
Oh, I just looked it up- the Styrofoam looking things are prawn crackers.
Spread out, far and wide. Some ninety miles away, others nine-hundred or more, but those are the sort of friends you pick right up with as if you saw each other yesterday afternoon.
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- #49
My dad sent these pictures to me a few months ago. It's our churches annual BBQ cookout. It was always very busy and the men really knew how to smoke sausage and brisket.
That's me. I guess I'm about 4 years old.
That's my dad in the white shirt serving BBQ. I see an ice cream maker on the table.
That's me. I guess I'm about 4 years old.
That's my dad in the white shirt serving BBQ. I see an ice cream maker on the table.
Owen, and I mean this for real, you need to write a book. Reading your stories, I can almost hear Garrison Keillor's voice.
It is weird how many memories I have that revolve around food.
My grandmother was a legal secretary and worked 9-5. My grandfather was a minister. Besides going to the church for business, or visiting people, his days were pretty free (he paid for that, though, by having to occasionally run to hospitals at 3 AM to be with family that called him). He was largely in charge of prepping dinner. I loved his liver and onions. I remember the very edges were just a little crisp, but the rest was nice and tender. Maybe liver pulls off the pan (always cast iron) in the way that hamburger will if you don't dimple them. Man, they were good. I wish I had paid attention to what he did, though I don't think it was difficult- soak in milk over night, dredge, and fry. Believe it or not, Black Eyed Pea has a fairly decent liver and onions that come close- even down to the thin, slightly crispy edge. When I eat liver, I always think of him. He usually whistled while he cooked.
Sharing a meal is a simple but important thing. We do some of that sharing here, and it is great. But . . . do take a buddy to lunch. Invite friends or relatives to dinner. Contribute to soup kitchens for the needy.
I do contribute to Arlington's Women shelter. On Sunday, I am going to cook my sister a rib eye for her birthday. She loves it when I grill.
I'm preaching to the choir.
It never hurts to be reminded. Sometimes we get so wrapped up in our own lives that we don't always take a moment to look around.
My grandfather liked his toast burnt. I don't mean dark, I mean black and burnt, and he would send it back if it wasn't. He was polite about it, and waitresses usually figured it out after a visit or two. When I smell burnt toast, I always think of him. From time to time we would stop for breakfast prior to going to school. It was a Denny's type restaurant chain that I believe was called Casey's (can any Clevelanders who were around in the 80s refresh my memory?). I would always get the hot cinnamon roll, and he would get his burnt toast. That was usually enough for him in the morning.
Two of the most memorable food moments in a 20 year cooking career with 20 years of life before that..... HHmmmmm, just kidding!!
First: I grew up next door to a Preacher. His mother (at least 200 years old!!) was the best cook I have ever met. I was a tiny little piece of white trash trying to keep up with her in the kitchen. Her cinnamon rolls, man (pure insanity).
Second: My father always made the best French Fries. Now just a simple reminder that I have probably fried 20,000+ pounds of potatoes in my career and I never figured out how he did it!!!! On his death bed, I asked him to finally tell me his secret and his response was "Mod Edit"..... Still haven't figured it out!
Those fries were crispy like a potatoe chip on the outside, fluffy inside and looked like cut raw potatoes. Still puzzles me.
First: I grew up next door to a Preacher. His mother (at least 200 years old!!) was the best cook I have ever met. I was a tiny little piece of white trash trying to keep up with her in the kitchen. Her cinnamon rolls, man (pure insanity).
Second: My father always made the best French Fries. Now just a simple reminder that I have probably fried 20,000+ pounds of potatoes in my career and I never figured out how he did it!!!! On his death bed, I asked him to finally tell me his secret and his response was "Mod Edit"..... Still haven't figured it out!
Those fries were crispy like a potatoe chip on the outside, fluffy inside and looked like cut raw potatoes. Still puzzles me.
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My father also made great french fries. They were ripple-cut style like they serve at Chick-Fil-A. I'm not sure what he used to fry them in, might have been peanut oil. Whatever it was, I've never tasted anything quite like them since then, but the Chick-Fil-A fries come the closest.
Another outstanding dish he used to make was soft-boiled eggs. They always came out just the right consistency, every time. The whites weren't too soft, the yolks weren't too hard. He did something with a safety-pin to puncture the shell before he put them in the boiling water, but I'm not sure if he poked the large end or the small end or what. And I don't know what timing he used for boiling. I've tried many times to make them, but my results are all over the place, whereas my father's eggs were always perfect, every time. Maybe my brother knows the recipe ... it would be great to taste them again.
Early 70s. I was 6 or 8 years old, going there with my folks. A small, dark Italian place somewhere near Red Bank, NJ. (In retrospect, knowing the area and the time, it was probably a mob hangout too...)
This place had bottles of complimentary pickled hot peppers on the tables. It was one of my first experiences with spicy heat and is what turned me into a Pepperhead. I remember eating tons of them and the waitress being completely blown away that I loved them. The place had good spaghetti and meatballs too. Was probably one of my first experiences with good Italian too. My (Irish descended) mom's Italian cooking usually involved a jar of Ragu -- although she was an excellent cook with other recipes.
My Dad used to make what he called Corn Fritters most sunday mornings. Now I know it was just pancake batter with canned corn, but they were delicious. A few of those with some bacon and some maple syrup drizzled over it all. Yum.
My next door neighbor (still in NJ) was an southern woman, born and bred in Alabama. She must have been in her 60s then. (her husband had actually been a barnstormer -- flying a Curtis Jenny in the 20s.) Anyway, she introduced my family to "real" southern fried chicken. I still make it with her recipe and it is amazing. She also had lived for a time in Arizona and introduced us to tacos -- of course back then on the east coast, "tacos" were Old El Paso shells with hamburger, lettuce and cheese and the most amazing thing ever to my 6 year old brain -- Salsa!
Years later - in High School (now in Massachusetts) my Oceanography & Marine Biology teacher -- who was also a Gloucester Lobsterman -- at the end of the semester, would bring in all sorts of seafood and we'd have a feast. He taught us how to cook and eat Lobster, Crab, Squid, Periwinkles. Any time I have squid now, I salute Mr. Lake.
This place had bottles of complimentary pickled hot peppers on the tables. It was one of my first experiences with spicy heat and is what turned me into a Pepperhead. I remember eating tons of them and the waitress being completely blown away that I loved them. The place had good spaghetti and meatballs too. Was probably one of my first experiences with good Italian too. My (Irish descended) mom's Italian cooking usually involved a jar of Ragu -- although she was an excellent cook with other recipes.
My Dad used to make what he called Corn Fritters most sunday mornings. Now I know it was just pancake batter with canned corn, but they were delicious. A few of those with some bacon and some maple syrup drizzled over it all. Yum.
My next door neighbor (still in NJ) was an southern woman, born and bred in Alabama. She must have been in her 60s then. (her husband had actually been a barnstormer -- flying a Curtis Jenny in the 20s.) Anyway, she introduced my family to "real" southern fried chicken. I still make it with her recipe and it is amazing. She also had lived for a time in Arizona and introduced us to tacos -- of course back then on the east coast, "tacos" were Old El Paso shells with hamburger, lettuce and cheese and the most amazing thing ever to my 6 year old brain -- Salsa!
Years later - in High School (now in Massachusetts) my Oceanography & Marine Biology teacher -- who was also a Gloucester Lobsterman -- at the end of the semester, would bring in all sorts of seafood and we'd have a feast. He taught us how to cook and eat Lobster, Crab, Squid, Periwinkles. Any time I have squid now, I salute Mr. Lake.
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