Do you have a story connected to a certain type of food ?..memories

hollydolly

hollydolly

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London England
In late 1973 I was 18 years old.. my mother had just died, and we went to my brothers' house for tea

My sister--in-law made us all Toasted cheese sandwiches using red Leicester cheese..

I'd never had cheese on toast in my life .. any cheese that was brought into our house was either Dairlylea triangles.. for sandwiches or occasionally a little bit of cheddar for Mac & cheese.. we were never allowed Cheese on toast..

That simple supper that my sister -in -law served up created a life long love of cheese for me... and even occasionally Cheese on toast..especially with red Leicester Cheese.. .

My brother had a 9 Bedroom house, and by the time my s-i-l got from the kitchen at the other end of the house to where we were in the sitting room, the toasted cheese was cold, but I still can't remember enjoying a feast more.. :p

.today I love every type of exotic cheeses... and there is never a shopping trip where I don't pick up some continental cheese , but every time I make Toasted Cheese with Red Leicester as I did tonight, I remember Eileen and my first toasted Cheese sandwich


...What food sticks in your memory for a particular reason
 

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Pumpkin pie and vanilla ice cream.

When I was about 13 we went to some relatives home for the Thanksgiving weekend. Parents went out and my cousin and I got into the left over pie and ice cream. I ate a ton, way way too much. That night I came down with a bad stomach bug. Threw it all up, which is very rare for me, I don't regurgitate easily. I was sick for a few days.

I still cannot eat or stand the smell of pumpkin pie or vanilla ice cream.
 

When were sick as children, Mom did not make chicken soup. She made a very simple potato soup. Just potatoes, water, milk, cream, butter, salt and pepper. It was very brothy, the potatoes cooked down so tender they fell apart. I still make this same soup.

I always knew when my son was sick. He would ask me to make "The soup"!
 
Blessed said:
When were sick as children, Mom did not make chicken soup. She made a very simple potato soup. Just potatoes, water, milk, cream, butter, salt and pepper. It was very brothy, the potatoes cooked down so tender they fell apart. I still make this same soup.

I always knew when my son was sick. He would ask me to make "The soup"!
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When we were sick.. my mother never made chicken soup as was the tradition, she would make an egg in a cup... I loved those... :p
 
hollydolly said:
When we were sick.. my mother never made chicken soup as was the tradition, she would make an egg in a cup... I loved those... :p
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What is an egg in a cup? It is a soft boiled served with toast to dip in the yoke? I don't know what it would be called here but I like it!
 
hollydolly said:
..What food sticks in your memory for a particular reason
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I've just got the one recollection (from an old thread of mine);

Ribs and other Bones

There’s nothing like a good meal for a get together,
and the good meal is a barbeque.

Being a northerner that spent some years down south, I can say those boys down there know barbeque.
Ribs, fallin off the bone.
Chikin, smoked, from wood, not wunna those fancy pellet rigs, but by an ol’ guy raised in a ‘grease house’, from a pit the size of a horse trough.
Beans, I didn’t know beans could taste like that. Odd things, strange herbs, spices, homemade sauces, a bit a fat meat, marinated for hours. They were a meal all by themselves.
Tater salad…M-M-M-M, none like it.
Sweet tea, steeped in a gallon jug in the sun.
Beer, Lone Star or Falstaff, didn’t matter, both tasted like mop water from a jukejoint, but did their job of cleansing the palate for the next bite.
Sip, rib, sip, chikin, sip, beans, sip, salad, guzzle the rest.
Made ya just fall down and scream.

Houston.
Down the street, Telephone road, was wunna those grease houses.
An old black gent lived there with what seemed like three generations of family.
Everbuddie's grampa, even mine for awhile.
Everyone called him Chili.
Bib overalls, white butcher’s apron, leather baseball cap was his eternal uniform.
Had a high pitched, raspy voice, and always a smirk on his ol’ mug.
More often than not, you’d find me sittin’ at his dilapidated picnic table after work, watchin’ him toil over the pit.
Nuthin’ attractive.
Tin lean-to roof, pile of wood, ol' white fridge that made a humming sound laboring in the heat, vats and jars, brushes, large forks,
and the huge pit with a homemade steel lid, that once he was satisfied with how things were goin’ he’d drop down and come out to talk to me…..talk about stories…old day stories…..bone chilling, horrific stories.

Naw, nuthin’ attractive….. ‘cept for the rich savory aromatic fragrance emanating from that glorious pit.
I’d sit there, sweating like a pig, drool stream gathering on the table in a puddle…

‘Chili!
WTF ol’ man!?’

‘Boy, you know it’s not ready….I’ll tell ya when it’s ready.’

It was worth the wait.


Fourth of July…or as they say down there JOOOlah, everyone barbequed.
Po foke, rich foke, middle class foke, all had their pits goin’.
You couldn’t walk two steps without getting hit upside the head with the aroma of the gods.

One fourth, me and my lady were flat broke.
I’d come off a month long stint in Brownsville, inspecting oil field pipe, big job.
Tuboscope laid some folks off after that, so I volunteered for some time off myself.
Took most of June, just me and my lady…nobody else.
Ran outta money…rent was paid, car was maintained, just broke….food crumbs in the fridge, empty bottles piled in the corner of the carport below…sittin’ on the couch smokin’ a partial I’d dug outta the butt can.

‘I’m goin’ back to work.’

‘It’s the fourth.’

‘Oh’

Chili and family had gone somewhere.
It was hot.
Most neighbors had headed to Galveston.

Our guts were eatin’ guts.
Hadn’t been so hungry in a long time.
A friend invited us to a company get together.
The park was filled with heavenly flavors.
Kids, old folk, parents, all had plates heaped with goodies, goodies that tempted me to follow ‘em, floating on the fragrant waves.

We strolled over to the tables.

$3.50

$3.50??!!

I had 37 cents.

One the way back to the garage apartment I swore I’d never put myself in that position again…especially on the fourth.

I think wunneezdaze we need to head back down south for a spell.

Something about the word ‘brisket’ that just sounds savory…didn’t know what it was ‘til I landed in Texas.
 
The mother of my very first boyfriend mother baked a wide assortment of scrumptious Christmas cookies every December. From the first moment I saw one of her beautifully arranged trays of cookies I knew I wanted to do that someday.

BF and I broke up after a couple of years but I never forgot those cookies. Her loving example is directly responsible for the thousands of Christmas cookies I bake and give away to friends and family each holiday season.

Every year I think of her and send a prayer of thanks her way when I start baking.
 
I remember when I was a teenager my parents would go out to eat sometimes and leave me at home. I was thrilled because it made me feel "all grown up". I would alway eat a Swanson TV Dinner. The fried chicken dinner was one of my favorites. It was so unbelievably greasy it's amazing I'm still alive to this day. :ROFLMAO:

Swansons.jpeg

When we ate at home, I can still remember my mother cooking chicken livers, fried okra and spinach with turnip greens. I loved them. Hey, we were from the South!
 
dseag2 said:
I remember when I was a teenager my parents would go out to eat sometimes and leave me at home. I was thrilled because it made me feel "all grown up". I would alway eat a Swanson TV Dinner. The fried chicken dinner was one of my favorites. It was so unbelievably greasy it's amazing I'm still alive to this day. :ROFLMAO:

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I loved Swanson's turkey dinner!
 
Captain Cong told me I needed some R&R, so Kim got things arranged at the orphanage, Kim got the airline tickets to Thailand, because she could not fly with me , we met back up in Thailand, and went to this restaurant, the waiter brought out a menu, it said American steak, my mouth was watering with anticipation, sense I could not remember when I had large American meal last, the waiter was walking toward me with a large silver platter, covered, my mouth was watering so much , he sit it in front of me and took the top off , there was the biggest steak , I had ever saw, I pick up my knife and started to cut into it , what's wrong here, this things so tough, I finally, got a small piece off , put it in my mouth, and spit it out, I knew exactly, what it was , (Water buffalo steak) which I hated.
 
We were on a family vacation touring the island of Puerto Rico. On our way to see the museum in Ponce we stopped at a restaurant located in the mountains between Caguas & Ponce Puerto Rico. The seating is on an outdoor patio overlooking a banana orchard far below the restaurant. Menu
Rice & Beans, pork sliced off a whole pig being roasted on an open spit. Ice cold beer that our sons had that they were surprised they were allowed to drink. Flan for dessert.

Sons particularly enjoyed the way they could point to where they wanted slices of spit roasted pork.
 
Creamed sweetbreads and also lobster in garlic butter. Foods most kids would go "Eeewwwww!" and turn their noses up at eating. My mother loved both dishes so she would go into the kitchen at midnight when we were asleep and make those two dishes for herself.

Well, of course, if you deny kids something and tell them, "No, you wouldn't like this at all - it's for adults!" - it's guaranteed to make the kids eager to try and like them! And we did; and still do, LOL.
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Pit-roasted pork or baby lamb. I've had both, and they are to die for.....the pit steams the meat, actually. When it's taken out and served, it falls apart. So moist and tender and juicy! The pork was served at a Filipino wedding we attended, held at one of the county parks.

The lamb was served at an upscale Moroccan restaurant where you had to have at least 10 people. We got a group of 12 together and had a wonderful meal. Bastilla (to this day my spouse adores it), wonderful bread and salads, and then the lamb was brought out and served with couscous on the side. Pistachio Baklava dripping with honey syrup to finish. Sat on cushions and ate with our fingers. Everybody loved it!
 
Thick, sweet adzuki (red) bean soup with mochi (glutinous pounded rice dumplings). It was a Japanese custom to eat it on New Years Day. I haven't had it for many years.
 
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Blessed said:
When were sick as children, Mom did not make chicken soup. She made a very simple potato soup. Just potatoes, water, milk, cream, butter, salt and pepper. It was very brothy, the potatoes cooked down so tender they fell apart. I still make this same soup.

I always knew when my son was sick. He would ask me to make "The soup"!
Click to expand...
Made "The soup" today to help with a bad migraine. Still works!
 
For those who haven't read it:
I previously posted about my former piano teacher's husband who considered himself a master chef. He wanted me to try everything he cooked. I usually did & it was usually OK.
But one time, he insisted that I taste "Sweetbread." I said "Great; I love bread." I was 12 at the time & was imagining something like a homemade cinnamon roll.
But I noted that the kitchen didn't smell like bread; it smelled like something went bad.
When he opened the oven, I looked at it & said, "What the hell kind of bread it that?.....I'm not eatin' that."
He cursed at me in Romanian, while his wife laughed. :ROFLMAO:
 
Wedding cake. It seems like my parents went to a ton of weddings when I was a kid, and they always brought me back a slice of wedding cake in a special little bag. Usually it was white cake with lots of filling/frosting. Divine! 🍰
 
We have an ice cream company down here called Blue Bell. They make one that has wedding cake in it, it is so good. I don't go to many weddings anymore but I can still get my fix.
 
Bit of a miserable memory..sorry...

When I was a child, my mother would cook stewed beef, and it was the most horrible stew ever. It was full of fat , tough & grisly with no flavour.. I hated it, literally would retch while eating it, so I was made to sit there at the table until it went stone cold, and I still hadn't eaten it.

It would be taken from me and the following morning it would be served up to me complete with congealed fat , for breakfast. I wouldn't eat it.. couldn't eat it, and so I would get a hiding with the buckle end of my fathers' belt, and that's how I would go to school.. barely able to sit down..

To this day even the smell of stew cooking has me feeling nauseous
 

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