my mom and grandmother hanging noodles all over the kitchen chairs before making chicken and noodles with fatty chickens. and in San Diego as a teenager eating a Nicolosi's subway sandwich.
Food Memories
- Thread starter DoctorShavegood
- Start date
Dad's Moms Sunday Dinner Yeast Rolls and Fried Chicken with Mashed Taters and White Cream Peppered gravy.
At the Other Grandma's Sunday was Biscuits , White Gravy , Fried Chicken and Fried Taters
At the Other Grandma's Sunday was Biscuits , White Gravy , Fried Chicken and Fried Taters
Delta Boy, You just described this Calafornia kid's favorite Sunday Dinner at Grandmas house. My Grandparent's were Navy Folk, and lived all over the U.S. And on Okinawa during my Grandfather's long career, and my Grandmother was a hell of a good cook. At my Grandfather's last duty station they lived in close proximity to my family, and we spent Sunday dinner at their house on a regular basis.
I remember all the sights, sounds and smells from those dinners long ago, and since my Grandmother passed way too young, I realize now what a wonderful thing those times were never to be found again. The magic of being a kid, and being doted on, and eating amazing food cooked from scratch, among extended family was truly magical.
Grandma's fried chicken always started with a buttermilk soak, I would help her with shaking the brown paper grocery bag, once she had put flour, salt, garlic powder, paprika, and a ton of black pepper, so much so that the grocery bag looked like it had been invaded by a colony of ants. Then the chicken pieces went in, a few of the time to get their turn at being shaken. She'd take them out and put them on a wire cooling rack while the old Cast iron skillet was heating on the stove, with balls of Crisco shortening looking like pristine scoops of vanilla ice cream to my six year old mind slowly melting away.
Then the chicken went in for its glorious bath, half submerged in the pan, Grandma turned the chicken halfway though, and then it was removed looking crispy, golden tan, and black speckled to drain briefly on some white paper towels. My Great Grandmother lived in the same house, and she was usually in charge of the homemade yeast rolls, and usually always had baked a pie for dessert, usually Rhubarb that my Grandfather had grown in the small garden in his backyard, I loved it with a huge scoop of cool whip, or vanilla ice cream.
Of course there were all the homemade sides too, fluffy mashed potatoes with milk gravy that my grandmother would use some of the chicken oil to make the roux with, and again with the black pepper Army ants, My Granfather would tease me about being put on KP duty to peel potatoes, or trim the green beans which he also grew in his garden, or there would be fresh corn cut from the cob.
I ate until I was full, and I loved it all, always the drumstick back then or a thigh. Then after dessert, we usually went to sit on the Davenport, Grandma's word, to watch Carol Burnett.
Grandma has been gone for 25 years or so, and Grandpa now for ten, the meal I described took place in 1976, I'd give any amount of money to experience something even close to it today.
I remember all the sights, sounds and smells from those dinners long ago, and since my Grandmother passed way too young, I realize now what a wonderful thing those times were never to be found again. The magic of being a kid, and being doted on, and eating amazing food cooked from scratch, among extended family was truly magical.
Grandma's fried chicken always started with a buttermilk soak, I would help her with shaking the brown paper grocery bag, once she had put flour, salt, garlic powder, paprika, and a ton of black pepper, so much so that the grocery bag looked like it had been invaded by a colony of ants. Then the chicken pieces went in, a few of the time to get their turn at being shaken. She'd take them out and put them on a wire cooling rack while the old Cast iron skillet was heating on the stove, with balls of Crisco shortening looking like pristine scoops of vanilla ice cream to my six year old mind slowly melting away.
Then the chicken went in for its glorious bath, half submerged in the pan, Grandma turned the chicken halfway though, and then it was removed looking crispy, golden tan, and black speckled to drain briefly on some white paper towels. My Great Grandmother lived in the same house, and she was usually in charge of the homemade yeast rolls, and usually always had baked a pie for dessert, usually Rhubarb that my Grandfather had grown in the small garden in his backyard, I loved it with a huge scoop of cool whip, or vanilla ice cream.
Of course there were all the homemade sides too, fluffy mashed potatoes with milk gravy that my grandmother would use some of the chicken oil to make the roux with, and again with the black pepper Army ants, My Granfather would tease me about being put on KP duty to peel potatoes, or trim the green beans which he also grew in his garden, or there would be fresh corn cut from the cob.
I ate until I was full, and I loved it all, always the drumstick back then or a thigh. Then after dessert, we usually went to sit on the Davenport, Grandma's word, to watch Carol Burnett.
Grandma has been gone for 25 years or so, and Grandpa now for ten, the meal I described took place in 1976, I'd give any amount of money to experience something even close to it today.
My mom did this- I am going to have to try it this weekend. But the meat will have to be sausage. I don't care for syrup on my bacon, but love it on my sausage. I used to get the big breakfast from Micky D's when I worked auto parts, and I grew to love the taste of sausage patties and syrup.
It is good to see more folks chiming in- excellent post. I remember shelling peas and doing whatever it is call it when you are prepping green beans (snapping the ends and getting rid of the "string"). I was in our Chinese restaurant, the one we have been going to for at least 15 years. We sit at one of the tables near the rear, and right behind our normal booth is the booth where the staff either eat or do some little prep jobs. They were snapping peas and the sound was like a flash back to New Springfield, OH (outside of Youngstown) around the 78-80 time period. My grandfather was a minister there, and one of the folks had a pretty big farm. We always got fresh corn and green beans from him, and I always helped with the shucking and snapping. Man, there is nothing like a piece of corn just 30 minutes off the stalk- it cannot be beat. Another of the members had a pretty good sized pond stocked with small mouth, catfish, and blue gill. We always kept the blue gill, and the occasional cat. Man, I can taste that blue gill now.
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- #66
Granddad used to make what he called cowboy stew. If you look up recipes for cowboy stew that's not granddad's. He made it in a pressure cooker, you know that ones that exploded. His never did though. It was more like a soup with chunks of meat and whatever floating in there. It smelled wonderful and tasted...great. Granny told me not to ask what was in it. 
It seemed whenever I spent the weekend at their house he was brewing the stuff.
It seemed whenever I spent the weekend at their house he was brewing the stuff.
thats a great memories for me. A few restaurants had them. The more authentic ones I recall from my youth.
Seasonal memory. Grandma's homemade gefilte fish. She taught the Chinese restaurant owner I referenced in the "prawn cracker" post above and his version became a regular option on the menu. Can't me to think of it, the fish balls in cellophane noodle-fish ball soup are pretty similar.
My grandmother also made home-made gefilte fish.
I never saw it myself, but family legend has it that she once kept a live fish in the bathtub, just waiting to be filleted and ground up and made into whatever those gefilte fish logs are called.
I'm not sure how she managed to get a live fish to her house in the first place. That part of the legend was never explained to me. Her house was nowhere near a fishing hole, and the nearest market that might have had live fish was several hours away. Nobody in the family had a car, so it had to be brought in on a public bus.
- Thread starter
- #70
- Thread starter
- #71
On our 25th wedding anniversary I made reservations 30 days in advance at Eddie V's Prime Seafood in downtown Austin. It poured down raining. Luckily they had a covered portico and valet. 
I checked-in at the hostess station...she said, "sorry sir we don't have your reservation in our system." 
There was a man standing sort of close and turned in or direction. I guess he heard what had happened. After 15 minutes of giving them angry looks telling them their "system" was...well you know....they "gave us a table." We sat and was looking at the menu when the waitress came in with a platter of tea and soda and managed to crash all of it right onto our table. It was completely soaked. Fortunately we both saw it coming and had an extra split second to leap up not get one drop of liquid on suit or dress. After it was all cleaned up a pretty young lady (not from the restaurant) comes up to us with two glasses of champagne and says, "these are compliments and congratulations on your anniversary and pointed to a man a few tables over. He raised his glass to us. It was the same man from the beginning of our story. After our meal was finished he approached and introduced himself. He told us we had had a hard night and deserved better treatment.
....I don't remember what I ate.
I checked-in at the hostess station...she said, "sorry sir we don't have your reservation in our system." There was a man standing sort of close and turned in or direction. I guess he heard what had happened. After 15 minutes of giving them angry looks telling them their "system" was...well you know....they "gave us a table." We sat and was looking at the menu when the waitress came in with a platter of tea and soda and managed to crash all of it right onto our table. It was completely soaked. Fortunately we both saw it coming and had an extra split second to leap up not get one drop of liquid on suit or dress. After it was all cleaned up a pretty young lady (not from the restaurant) comes up to us with two glasses of champagne and says, "these are compliments and congratulations on your anniversary and pointed to a man a few tables over. He raised his glass to us. It was the same man from the beginning of our story. After our meal was finished he approached and introduced himself. He told us we had had a hard night and deserved better treatment. ....I don't remember what I ate.
First meal that my wife made for us, after we got married. Pinto beans and cornbread. We still have it regularly, but that first meal was special. We had just moved into our first place, and the oven was weird and she burnt the cornbread. Badly. Bless her heart, she was trying so hard. I'll never forget the look on her face when she brought out that cornbread. I managed to choke some down and told her it was delicious, and thanked her for making a wonderful meal. She smiled, and I fell in love all over again.
My wife is an excellent cook, and the cornbread she makes today is great. But that first pan we shared as husband and wife is still my favorite.
My wife is an excellent cook, and the cornbread she makes today is great. But that first pan we shared as husband and wife is still my favorite.
This is not so much about a food memory, but more about pantries ...
My mother was one of those people that was obsessed with bargains. When she found something on sale, she went all out. She must have had over 100 rolls of aluminum foil on hand at one point. Same thing for Saran-wrap, baking soda, dishwashing liquids, paper towels, paper plates, napkins, etc. The kitchen cabinets were packed full, the hall closets and utility room shelves were overflowing, and her collection spread across one wall of the garage. When we sold her house after she passed away, the pantry was raided by family and friends, and some of that tin-foil is still around, kept as a souvenir to honor my mother's memory.
My aunt was the same way. She bought cases upon cases of baked beans, tuna fish, canned soups, jars of pickles, spaghetti ... pretty much anything that was non-perishable. She once found gallon-sized jars of ketchup on sale for $1, so she bought 2 cases of them. Problem was, she didn't use ketchup. She couldn't stand the stuff, but the bargain-fever was too much too pass up. Those 12 bottles remained in her basement for the next 30 years, and when she passed away, we gave those ketchup bottles to her handyman. That was 20 years ago, and as far as I know, he probably still has some of it left.
My mother was one of those people that was obsessed with bargains. When she found something on sale, she went all out. She must have had over 100 rolls of aluminum foil on hand at one point. Same thing for Saran-wrap, baking soda, dishwashing liquids, paper towels, paper plates, napkins, etc. The kitchen cabinets were packed full, the hall closets and utility room shelves were overflowing, and her collection spread across one wall of the garage. When we sold her house after she passed away, the pantry was raided by family and friends, and some of that tin-foil is still around, kept as a souvenir to honor my mother's memory.
My aunt was the same way. She bought cases upon cases of baked beans, tuna fish, canned soups, jars of pickles, spaghetti ... pretty much anything that was non-perishable. She once found gallon-sized jars of ketchup on sale for $1, so she bought 2 cases of them. Problem was, she didn't use ketchup. She couldn't stand the stuff, but the bargain-fever was too much too pass up. Those 12 bottles remained in her basement for the next 30 years, and when she passed away, we gave those ketchup bottles to her handyman. That was 20 years ago, and as far as I know, he probably still has some of it left.
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- #74
I'm craving dad's old stand-by when mom wasn't around to make breakfast. Two slices of white bread covered in white gravy.
We also had some specialty meals that only my father would make, and only when my mother wasn't around.
The one I remember best were soft-boiled eggs ... I've been trying for years to duplicate his recipe, but I never got the exact details, and it never comes out right. I know it has something to do with exact timing. He kept a digital timer at the stove that would precisely measure how long they were boiled. Another secret was to puncture the shell with a safety-pin, but I don't know whether he put it through the large end, the small end or in the side. Maybe my brother knows the secret(s), I'll have to ask him next time I see him.
Another treat we got was BACON ... my mother kept Kosher, so enjoying any pork products was a rare thing. Ham and pork chops also made an appearance whenever he cooked, but bacon was the best. Still is.
Finally, he let us drink Coca-Cola with our breakfast, rather than the milk and juices that our mother put out for us every morning.
- Thread starter
- #76
Bump...thanks Owen @oc_in_fw.
I guess it's that time of year when I start thinking about all the times we had together with friends or family eating a great meal.
~Food memories are a powerful thing.
I guess it's that time of year when I start thinking about all the times we had together with friends or family eating a great meal.
~Food memories are a powerful thing.
Indeed they are. Even after 35 years, the taste of warm apple cider reminds me of the various fall festivals we would go to in Ohio. This reminds me, it is the time of year for Buckeyes- I need to try my hand at making them.
I think I have mentioned this one before, but here goes. Around the summer of 77 or 78, my grandparents bought us (mom and sisters, dad had to work) airplane tickets to fly from Birmingham to Cleveland. This was the first time I had ever flown, and back then they still treated passengers as humans and not cattle. At the time, we were vegetarians (well, at least as long as my father was around- mom let us cheat
) The inflight meal was a ham and Swiss on a croissant. I don't know whether it was the thrill of flying, or getting to eat forbidden fruit, but that was the best sandwich I ever had. To this day I love ham and Swiss on a fresh croissant.
I lived in RI when I was in kindergarten. Dad brought two big live lobsters home for dinner, put them on the kitchen floor, where we four kids watched them scuttle and clack around. We even gave them names. My mother had to get Dad to shoo us out of the kitchen, because "I'm about to cook their pets for dinner." We enjoyed them even more once they were steamed. I think of that every time I enjoy lobster.
My mom and her side of the family live in Columbus, so I've had hundreds of buckeyes. It's the only way I'll eat peanut butter and chocolate. (Not a big Reese's fan)
Right after we got engaged, my to-be-wife and I went to visit my family in Columbus and we ran the Columbus marathon. In looking for things to do, we ended up at the Circleville Pumpkin Festival. Delicious food, fun stuff to do, and it was huge! It was like an amped up county fair.
I don't have many "warm" food memories from childhood. My mom is an admittedly bad cook, and my dad doesn't cook much beyond spaghetti. I do remember really enjoying going to my great aunt's house for Thanksgiving. She and her at-the-time husband would do turkey 3 ways (Smoked, Baked, Deep Fried), and she would team up with my grandmother to put out some amazing renditions of the traditional sides. My mouth is watering just thinking about it.
Reese's uses garbage chocolate and peanut butter.
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