I don't remember what it was, but a year or so ago D smelled something and remarked that it smelled like her childhood. Which is funny because she's still in her childhood. And also I couldn't think of anything that particular smell could be evoking.
Today I had a Jolly Rancher watermelon-flavored candy. It wasn't quite as strong as a scent would be, but it did take me back to my childhood. Which I am far from and I have the gray hair to prove it.
Anyway, it got me thinking about what flavor my childhood would be. There are a lot that I remember and I'll list them for you. (An excuse to make a list!!) Notice this will not be given in any order of favorites, i.e. I despise liver.
1. Abba Zabba. Aside from Jolly Ranchers, these were my favorite candy. My friend Jenny and I would freeze them before eating them. I lost a tooth in one once at the beach.
2. Liver. My daughter has never had this forced down her throat. I have neither eaten it nor made it as an adult.
3. Canned spinach. Mom, really? I don't think D even knows that this exists. Stringy grossness at its slimiest best.
4. Tacos. I asked for them every birthday.
5. Spaghetti. My sister asked for it on her birthdays. My mom made it out of the paper packet.
6. Oily meat. We experimented with a fondue pot for a while. I have vastly improved on the method.
7. Cheerios. My grandma made sure she had some every time that I visited. Until I was 21.
8. Chicken and dumplings. Family recipe.
9. Caramel cream pecan pie. We had this at Thanksgiving instead of pumpkin.
10. Lima beans. Another thing D has never been force-fed.
11. Fried catfish. Freshly caught by my grandpa.
12. Fish sticks. I was never a gay fish.
13. In-N-out cheeseburgers. The single defining meal of my California life.
14. TV dinners. My father, as a single man, was only capable of fortifying me in this inhumane manner.
15. Hot chocolate with vanilla ice cream. Because it was never that cold in California.
16. Fried chicken. I have yet to fry my own, but I'll beg to be invited anywhere that it's done.
17. Biscuits. The kind only my grandpa could make.
18. Pillsbury cinnamon rolls. We had them for breakfast on Christmas mornings.
19. Steak. The grill was used every weekend of the year, no matter the weather. Complete with wood chips.
20. Popcorn shrimp and hush puppies. Until I could no longer order from the kids' menu.
Showing posts with label In-N-Out. Show all posts
Showing posts with label In-N-Out. Show all posts
Monday, January 27, 2014
Wednesday, August 07, 2013
Driving My Life Away
Remember that song? It was by Eddie Rabbit. Coincidentally, it came on while I was driving back from Nashville on the way home. Actually, I think I was somewhere between Gatlinburg and Nashville and I was the only one awake so I was the only one it made sense to at the time. Pretty much summed up this whole trip though as there was more driving than any other activity. Which meant I learned a lot about driving. And half of the country since we drove across most of it.
Buckle your seat belts, here we go.
1. I have no use for anything east of Arizona through Memphis.
2. New Mexico is not the land of enchantment. False advertising.
3. Arkansas asks visitors to keep its state green. I wish it had asked me to stay out of its ugly ass.
4. Most places outside of Oregon omit the seat covers in their restrooms. I am too old to squat but, then again, it was the only exercise I got for 10 days.
5. Those southern states really like their God and Jesus billboards, but I think they like their porn more. It was about a 3:1 ratio in favor of the "adult romance" stores.
6. Nevada brothels offer hot sauce and souvenirs in addition to bad sex. Souvenir? Is that what they call herpes?
7. The only places people live in Nevada are Reno and Vegas. And I assume someone lives at the brothels.
8. California cops are mean and will write you a ticket very slowly while you are being eaten alive by mosquitoes. I wonder if he would have let me take his picture.
9. Stuckeys no longer exist. This breaks the heart of the little girl inside me.
10. Stepmoms provide the most welcome dinners and breakfasts. At least mine does. She rocks that grandma house like no other.
11. Tennessee has the best rest area. Again, somewhere between Gatlinburg and Nashville. It had a separate building just for vending machines full of soda, juice, water, coffee, snacks, and desserts.
12. A banana pudding festival exists in the world and one day I will go to it.
13. The panhandle of the state of Texas should just disappear off the face of the earth. I would burn it down if there was anything there to burn.
14. The only things you can buy in New Mexico are blankets and moccasins. And whatever you can buy at the occasional smoke shop.
15. It's clear how badly I have to pee when I see an adorable Boston in the middle of freaking nowhere but I can't stop to pet/molest him.
Best sites along the way:
1. The weird dinosaur statues in Arizona.
2. Actually, all of Arizona. It was really pretty.
3. The rare toilet seat cover.
4. Bathrooms that weren't totally gross.
5. New Mexico, Oklahoma, Arkansas, and Memphis in the rear view mirror.
6. My dad standing on his street corner to make sure I got in okay.
7. Fruit and good coffee.
8. The sunset over Nevada.
9. In-N-Out!!!!
10. My dogs when I got home.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Edible Memories
When I was a snotty teenager, I insisted that I would never cook my own food. I hated cooking and swore I would have my own personal chef. I seriously don't even know who that girl was now. Sure, some days I'm totally lazy and eat Cheez-Its for dinner, but most of the time I love to cook. I pore over recipes online for hours and take at least a week to plan holiday meals. I talk about food endlessly with my friends who are as equally obsessed as I am.
It's not just the food or the taste or showing off at a party. I love the memories that go with the food. Certain smells evoke the memories in the strongest and most poignant way, but food memories are my favorites.
When I was really little, I'd hang out in the kitchen with my mom, handing her the items she needed. I sliced off a little taste of butter whenever I pulled it out of the fridge for her. I learned how to make chicken and dumplings watching her. I mean real southern chicken and dumplings, not those pathetic biscuit imposters. This was my grandmother's recipe. And probably her grandmother's. When I grew up, I only needed the ingredient amounts, but no instruction. For years D hated them, which made me sad. I had imagined this would be the one recipe passed down to my daughter and her daughter after that. She finally learned to love them like I do in the last year and my legacy is again alive.
As a kid, my mom made us whatever we wanted for dinner on our birthdays. I don't know why this was such a big deal to me, probably because it was the one day of the year I could reject less appetizing fare like liver and okra and lima beans. I always chose tacos. Every year. My sister always chose spaghetti.
I think visiting my grandparents in Mississippi is where I learned to equate food with love. We had dinner and supper, same-sized meals at different times of the day at a crowded, very full table. My mom said that my grandpa used to say that a meal wasn't complete without bread. He made the best biscuits and, for a while, my mom tried to replicate the recipe when we returned home. She never could and gave up after a few near-disasters. I'm still too afraid to try.
When we ate at seafood restaurants, I would get popcorn shrimp and hush puppies. I loved the name more than the actual food and hush puppies were one of the first comfort foods I attempted to make in college. I'm super snobby about them now. Yes, snobby about fried corn meal. It has to be done just right.
A trip to Disneyland isn't complete without a churro or two or three. I don't eat them anywhere else. D loves to go to the Mexican restaurant in Frontierland, not so much for the food, but for the view of Thunder Mountain at night.
In-N-Out. Oh, In-N-Out. I don't even care to debate this. It is just hands-down my favorite burger place in all the world. There are restaurants all over California and they have branched out to other states (but not Oregon, ahem. I'm looking at YOU, In-N-Out Corporate!). It wasn't always like that though. We used to go rarely, mostly when we went to the beach because we'd pass by one on those occasions. I had In-N-Out the day I bought my first car. It is probably the one thing I crave most often. Oh, In-N-Out. I love you so.
My favorite candy? Abba Zabba. If you've never had this delicious treat, it's like a bar of taffy with peanut butter in the middle. It's best frozen, but it also reminds me of going to the beach. I lost a tooth in one once.
Vacations are always about the food. In Victoria, it's afternoon tea at Butchart Gardens. Little finger sandwiches and scones and tarts and truffles and fancy tea! My summer cruise offered endless amounts of food but nothing on the ship compared to what I found in port. The Mexican resort provided freshly made tortillas and things I could never name, but couldn't get enough of. And fish tacos on a Mexican beach? There's nothing else like it. In Hawaii I had pineapple juice every morning and vowed to never eat mahi mahi anywhere else.
I love crepes and risotto and lobster, sushi and lamb and pretty plates of delicate pasta. But I also love fried chicken and fried catfish, bad, trashy food full of grease and fat and everything else that gives it a bad reputation. My favorite white trash food is Easy Cheese. You know, stuff that comes in a can that isn't really any kind of cheese at all. Easy Cheese and Pringles are the best snack to take for a day at the lake. It's good on celery if you want to pretend to be healthy. Last night I tried it on a hot dog. Omg, you guys. Try it tonight. Seriously.
Food. Memories of food. So many of them. College means popcorn and rice and fresh strawberries from roadside stands. After 52 hours of childbirth, I rewarded myself with french fries, ranch dressing and a chocolate shake. My ex and I went out for sushi the day our divorce was finalized. I taught D how to crack crab legs the day she got her first pair of pointe shoes and we had pizza when she got her braces off.
Food is family, love, birthdays, drunken Friday nights, beginnings, endings, celebrations, compromise, sometimes regret, more often pure joy. I've loved people with food. I've laughed over food. I've been comforted by it and had invaluable conversations during delicious meals. The best thing about all of this? There is just more to come.
It's not just the food or the taste or showing off at a party. I love the memories that go with the food. Certain smells evoke the memories in the strongest and most poignant way, but food memories are my favorites.
When I was really little, I'd hang out in the kitchen with my mom, handing her the items she needed. I sliced off a little taste of butter whenever I pulled it out of the fridge for her. I learned how to make chicken and dumplings watching her. I mean real southern chicken and dumplings, not those pathetic biscuit imposters. This was my grandmother's recipe. And probably her grandmother's. When I grew up, I only needed the ingredient amounts, but no instruction. For years D hated them, which made me sad. I had imagined this would be the one recipe passed down to my daughter and her daughter after that. She finally learned to love them like I do in the last year and my legacy is again alive.
As a kid, my mom made us whatever we wanted for dinner on our birthdays. I don't know why this was such a big deal to me, probably because it was the one day of the year I could reject less appetizing fare like liver and okra and lima beans. I always chose tacos. Every year. My sister always chose spaghetti.
I think visiting my grandparents in Mississippi is where I learned to equate food with love. We had dinner and supper, same-sized meals at different times of the day at a crowded, very full table. My mom said that my grandpa used to say that a meal wasn't complete without bread. He made the best biscuits and, for a while, my mom tried to replicate the recipe when we returned home. She never could and gave up after a few near-disasters. I'm still too afraid to try.
When we ate at seafood restaurants, I would get popcorn shrimp and hush puppies. I loved the name more than the actual food and hush puppies were one of the first comfort foods I attempted to make in college. I'm super snobby about them now. Yes, snobby about fried corn meal. It has to be done just right.
A trip to Disneyland isn't complete without a churro or two or three. I don't eat them anywhere else. D loves to go to the Mexican restaurant in Frontierland, not so much for the food, but for the view of Thunder Mountain at night.
In-N-Out. Oh, In-N-Out. I don't even care to debate this. It is just hands-down my favorite burger place in all the world. There are restaurants all over California and they have branched out to other states (but not Oregon, ahem. I'm looking at YOU, In-N-Out Corporate!). It wasn't always like that though. We used to go rarely, mostly when we went to the beach because we'd pass by one on those occasions. I had In-N-Out the day I bought my first car. It is probably the one thing I crave most often. Oh, In-N-Out. I love you so.
My favorite candy? Abba Zabba. If you've never had this delicious treat, it's like a bar of taffy with peanut butter in the middle. It's best frozen, but it also reminds me of going to the beach. I lost a tooth in one once.
Vacations are always about the food. In Victoria, it's afternoon tea at Butchart Gardens. Little finger sandwiches and scones and tarts and truffles and fancy tea! My summer cruise offered endless amounts of food but nothing on the ship compared to what I found in port. The Mexican resort provided freshly made tortillas and things I could never name, but couldn't get enough of. And fish tacos on a Mexican beach? There's nothing else like it. In Hawaii I had pineapple juice every morning and vowed to never eat mahi mahi anywhere else.
I love crepes and risotto and lobster, sushi and lamb and pretty plates of delicate pasta. But I also love fried chicken and fried catfish, bad, trashy food full of grease and fat and everything else that gives it a bad reputation. My favorite white trash food is Easy Cheese. You know, stuff that comes in a can that isn't really any kind of cheese at all. Easy Cheese and Pringles are the best snack to take for a day at the lake. It's good on celery if you want to pretend to be healthy. Last night I tried it on a hot dog. Omg, you guys. Try it tonight. Seriously.
Food. Memories of food. So many of them. College means popcorn and rice and fresh strawberries from roadside stands. After 52 hours of childbirth, I rewarded myself with french fries, ranch dressing and a chocolate shake. My ex and I went out for sushi the day our divorce was finalized. I taught D how to crack crab legs the day she got her first pair of pointe shoes and we had pizza when she got her braces off.
Food is family, love, birthdays, drunken Friday nights, beginnings, endings, celebrations, compromise, sometimes regret, more often pure joy. I've loved people with food. I've laughed over food. I've been comforted by it and had invaluable conversations during delicious meals. The best thing about all of this? There is just more to come.
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