Memories of Food

Memories of Food

As a child I loved to eat almost anything my mother cooked for me. I remember how incredibly intense the flavors and aroma were. This intensity, however, worked both ways. I either loved a dish or hated it for its disgusting taste and aroma. For this reason I was a very misunderstood child.

My father, who would eat and enjoy anything labeled “food” thought that I was “too picky” and maybe even stubborn when I wouldn’t even take a bite of his beloved stewed okra and tomatoes, or swamp cabbage, or fried shrimp. My mother, desperate to feed her girls balanced nourishing meals would make substitutions for me—field peas for the okra dish, cole slaw for the swamp cabbage, and fried fish for the fried shrimp.

Of course this placed me squarely in the category of “spoiled child” and in the 1940’s and 50’s this was the greatest of parental sins, to be avoided at all costs. So I paid for her generosity in preparing food just for me by having to be the best behaved child on either side of the family. It was so firmly ingrained me that I had better behave that when I was a teenager and had opportunities to participate in stunts like climbing over the fence to go skinny dipping in the Yacht Club swimming pool at 2 o’clock in the morning. I usually turned them down. I would never ever want to embarrass my folks by getting picked up by the police, or evicted from the movie theater or serve detention at school like everyone else did at least once in a while.

So loving to eat my favorite foods and refusing any other kind had a lot of ramifications having little to do with food. Now that those days are long gone, I just love to eat.