Sunday, January 14, 2007

Favorite Food Memories

Do you have a favorite food memory ? Is it Grandma's cinnamon rolls baking on Sunday morning ? That crazy Thanksgiving where the turkey never cooked ? I'd love to hear about it : )

2 comments:

Shawnda said...

Growing up, the before-church breakfast in our house on cold Sundays was always chocolate gravy, biscuits, and scrambled eggs (sometimes mixed all together!). Our friends always reacted the same way the first time they slept over: they wrinkled their nose and said "Chocolate gravy?!" The only gravy they knew was the slightly gray mixture with sausage chunks. Those poor, deprived children :)

Before this past weekend, I hadn't even so much as thought about chocolate gravy in years but it's gettin' cold down here and I think we just might have breakfast for dinner tonight!

Kristina said...

I'm told smell is one of our strongest senses, and for that reason, the memories of food are doubly strong for us because the memories involve both smell AND taste.

So for me, many food memories are as much about scent as they are actually consuming food.

One trigger scent for me is the smell of baking bread. My family home was not terribly far from a Wonder Bread Bakery (out in California, that's your typical white grocery store bread). The bread wasn't anything special, but the smell of bread baking used to waft over the neighborhood. Now, when I smell it, it instantly reminds me of playing in my yard as a child.

As for food, I've never been a big fan of chocolate, myself. Never did much for me, and still doesn't, but this trigger memory involves chocolate cookies and sugar cookies.

Every once in a while, when I was a kid, my father used to open the bedroom door I shared with my sister -- just a crack -- when we were doing our homework, and we'd look up and see his arm come sneaking into the door, and he'd be holding two chocolate cookies.

We'd hop off our chairs and come snatch the cookie from his hand (we were like zoo animals, sheesh!). Well, after a while I would just call out "No thank you Daddy!" because I wasn't big into chocolate cookies.

One night I did this, and about 5 minutes later there was a scratch at the door again, it creaked open a few inches again, and here comes his arm again. This time he's holding a single white sugar cookie. I grinned, hopped off the chair, and snatched it.

It was so sweet of him, and every time he did that in the future, his hand had one chocolate cookie and one sugar cookie. One for my sister, one for me.

We never saw his face during this nocturnal cookie offerings. He was just playing with his daughters and sneaking them a treat when Mom wasn't watching.

Such a dear memory.