<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<topic>
  <id>302895</id>
  <title>Families and  food...</title>
  <published_at>Mon Jan 30 18:54:54 -0800 2006</published_at>
  <post_count>22</post_count>
  <board>
    <id>29</id>
    <name>Not About Food</name>
  </board>
  <posts>
    <post>
      <post>
        <level>0</level>
        <id>1698995</id>
        <content>I felt sorry for the person who posted recently about their roommate using their coffee grinder to grind up spices. Families are worse.
 
I started cooking when I was around 9yrs old and took over the family cooking at 12, because my mother went on strike for several years because I complained so much about her horrible cooking. Life was really hell surrounding the food issue when I grew up. I was the only 'hound in the family. Everyone else in my family had no taste.
 
When I moved out as a teen I thought I would never have to deal with that crap again... 
 
Two weeks ago I received a few organic, pasture raised heirloom chickens and a 7 lb., organic, pasture raised, Berkshire / Kurobuta pork roast as partial pay from a farmer client. I cut it up into three manageable portions for myself, and have been rationing it out over two weeks. This is probably the best piece of pork available in the US right now and I don't think anyone else is yet producing organic, pasture raised, Berkshire / Kurobuta style pork like this in the US. The hogs were finished on organic chestnuts, apples, acorns, sweet potatoes, pumpkins, and other great stuff during the fall. They were so fat that they could barely walk as they neared the end. The meat was so well marbled it looked like top grade Kobe Beef, practically more white creamy fat than red meat (not pale like commercial pork.) The farmer had only two hogs to slaughter this year since he is trying to establish a herd. He sold the other roast similar to mine for $300 to a top chef. I cooked up the first piece two days ago and it was fantastic. My folks were visiting today and I was going to cook up the second piece as a special meal for them. 
 
I ran out to the store to pick up some odds and ends and I came home to find that mom had fried up some of my organic, pasture raised chicken breast from the fridge for my dad, which he then decided he didn't want. I was a little upset that they decided to cook up some of my chicken while I was out, especially since I went out to get some great ingredients for dinner. But at least they hadn't eaten the chicken, so now I could still make the meal I had planned. I got down to some serious cooking, working up a huge batch of fancy wild mushrooms into a great sauce. I went to grab the pork from the fridge and it wasn't there.
 
Unbeknownst to me, while I was out shopping my father said to my mother that a piece of meat had been sitting too long in my fridge and to throw it out, he had seen it there last week. (He had seen the first piece of pork there, the rest was in the freezer.) So in addition to my nice chicken breast, mother had also cooked up my amazing pork, English style, i.e., sliced into thin strips and fried until it was leather. I almost cried to see such incredible, luscious, expensive, and hard to get meat, absolutely ruined. So I ended up serving the wild mushroom sauce over fried leather. I choked down my dinner which was way too salty from the tears that streamed uncontrollably down my face.</content>
        <published_at>Mon Jan 30 18:54:54 -0800 2006</published_at>
        <parent_id></parent_id>
        <user>
          <id>0</id>
          <name>JMF</name>
        </user>
      </post>
    </post>
    <post>
      <level>1</level>
      <id>1698997</id>
      <content>I.am.so.sorry.</content>
      <published_at>Mon Jan 30 19:16:35 -0800 2006</published_at>
      <parent_id>1698995</parent_id>
      <user>
        <id>0</id>
        <name>Dipsy</name>
      </user>
    </post>
    <post>
      <level>2</level>
      <id>1699000</id>
      <content>Oh My. All I can say is that you are a way better person than me, JMF. WAY better.....I would have gone insane. Did you explain to them the egregiousness of their error? We're they apologetic?</content>
      <published_at>Mon Jan 30 20:41:01 -0800 2006</published_at>
      <parent_id>1698997</parent_id>
      <user>
        <id>0</id>
        <name>lisa</name>
      </user>
    </post>
    <post>
      <level>3</level>
      <id>1699003</id>
      <content>After a few failed attempts at explaining... I kept stuttering and weird noises came forth... I just gave up. I thought my head was going to explode for awhile there, trying to stay relatively calm. They have no clue... And after all these years they still don't know what makes me tick.
 
There were no apologies... supposedly it was all my fault, how dare I raise my voice, etc., and anyway... "it was just a piece of meat," and "why didn't you put a note on it?"    ???!!! A note on it?
 
You spend all those years bringing up your parents, breaking them in... trying so hard to teach them... 
 
Last week I was talking about some intricate food details to my father and he said "You know so much about food you should be a consultant." and I said "Dad... I am a food consultant."
 
I am going to have to write it up for my book.

Link: http://www.jmforester.com</content>
      <published_at>Mon Jan 30 22:27:56 -0800 2006</published_at>
      <parent_id>1699000</parent_id>
      <user>
        <id>0</id>
        <name>JMF</name>
      </user>
    </post>
    <post>
      <level>4</level>
      <id>1699005</id>
      <content>Families are funny. My parents only eat at the WORST restaurants and try to drag me there with them. The other day we were going out to lunch and Mom suggested Carrow's, a chain that usually produces food that makes Denny's look like Joel Robuchon is behind the grill.
 
I yelped "Noooooo!" and my mom said "What?" I said, finally, after 40 years of being polite and choking it back "I never want to eat another meal that comes dished out of a 5 gallon plastic bucket and heated up in a microwave!"</content>
      <published_at>Mon Jan 30 22:56:17 -0800 2006</published_at>
      <parent_id>1699003</parent_id>
      <user>
        <id>0</id>
        <name>Snackish</name>
      </user>
    </post>
    <post>
      <level>5</level>
      <id>1699025</id>
      <content>I understand the OP's frustration, I really do.  But having said that, I think having parents alive, healthy enough to get on your nerves, etc. is well worth the price of meat, no matter how special.  I realize I am projecting, but my father died when I was 10 and my Mom when I was 29 (and she was a terrible cook) and I'd give anything to come home and find her in my kitchen making her horrible meatloaf.  </content>
      <published_at>Tue Jan 31 10:17:10 -0800 2006</published_at>
      <parent_id>1699005</parent_id>
      <user>
        <id>0</id>
        <name>Janet from Richmond</name>
      </user>
    </post>
    <post>
      <level>6</level>
      <id>1699044</id>
      <content>Amen to that! My mom was a great cook in her youth, but has since gone totally AWOL cooking wise and gets weirder  and weirder about food with each passing year. She actually gets quite nervous around food, and ALOT of food can be very upsetting to her. Luckily she hasn't started throwing things out....But even if she's going slightly crazy, I'm glad she's still kicking at 75.</content>
      <published_at>Tue Jan 31 14:38:38 -0800 2006</published_at>
      <parent_id>1699025</parent_id>
      <user>
        <id>0</id>
        <name>cheapskate</name>
      </user>
    </post>
    <post>
      <level>6</level>
      <id>1699054</id>
      <content>I also understand your frustration -- but since you appear to be an employed adult, why are you living with your parents? Get your own place. Surely the extra cost will be worth not having to worry about other people mucking with your food (not to mention all the other benefits of being a full-fledged adult).</content>
      <published_at>Tue Jan 31 16:33:46 -0800 2006</published_at>
      <parent_id>1699025</parent_id>
      <user>
        <id>0</id>
        <name>Ruth Lafler</name>
      </user>
    </post>
    <post>
      <level>7</level>
      <id>1699057</id>
      <content>Oops. Re-read and realized they were visiting. Nevermind.
 
Perhaps next time they can stay in a nice motel -- I'm sure they'd love one with "breakfast" in "lounge."
 
And I do sympathize -- I hate it when people make themselves at home in my kitchen, although one reason for that is that I have a housemate, and people have no way of knowing what's mine and what's hers. Housemate is very good with boundaries: she no more wants to mess with my stuff than she wants me to mess with hers, which is why we've been able to share a house for 15 years.</content>
      <published_at>Tue Jan 31 16:37:56 -0800 2006</published_at>
      <parent_id>1699054</parent_id>
      <user>
        <id>0</id>
        <name>Ruth Lafler</name>
      </user>
    </post>
    <post>
      <level>4</level>
      <id>1699038</id>
      <content>&gt;&gt;&gt;Last week I was talking about some intricate food details to my father and he said "You know so much about food you should be a consultant." and I said "Dad... I am a food consultant."
 
Ok, that's effin' priceless!
 
However, it gets at what I think is actually your real issue from your OP(and  has nothing to do with being a hound or cooking good or bad food).  Your parents don't "get" you, and make no efforts to get you or respect you.
 
It's totally disrespectful to cook up some chicken breasts in somebody's home when they've gone to the store to buy the final ingredients for dinner.  It doesn't matter that you're a guest in your adult child's house.  You're still a guest.  Equally, who on earth would be in somebody else's house and simply throw out food in the fridge?  Your father apparently doesn't even know what you do for a living.  Fundamentally, I think those are the real issues in your post (and the rest of it is just gravy or frosting, or choose your favorite food metaphor).</content>
      <published_at>Tue Jan 31 13:31:11 -0800 2006</published_at>
      <parent_id>1699003</parent_id>
      <user>
        <id>0</id>
        <name>Smokey</name>
      </user>
    </post>
    <post>
      <level>5</level>
      <id>1699063</id>
      <content>Here, here!
 
As Smokey aptly notes, this is a question of respect.  OP's parents have no respect for him---they don't know what he does, they don't care about his interests. I'm willing to bet that if they had been in someone else's house, they would NEVER have done what they did.  To them, OP is just a little kid and they don't have to treat him like they would any other human being.
 
And to all you who post how OP should be glad he has parents to kvetch about, you must have parents who respect you as a person. You have no idea what it can be like.  Those of us who have parents with little or no respect for us as people are in a completely different boat than those from warm loving families with quirks. And because of the differences in the relationship with the non-respecting parents, we will be in a very different position when our parents die as well because in addition to mourning what we had, we will have to mourn what YOU had in your relationship with your parents as well because once our non-respecting parents die, all hope of that relationship dies with them.
 
Back to the Chow:  I feel your pain.  My mother is one of Those.  On a visit years back, she got sick with the flu.  I offerred to make her chicken soup.  Didn't want it.  She demanded that I go to the store and buy her cans of Progresso because they make good soup. 
 
I held my tongue and said that I also made good chicken soup and that it could be ready in almost the same amount of time as it would take to go to the store.
  
Mother refused again insisting that my homemade soup would be too greasy.  
 
I calmly said I remove the grease so its not too greasy.  People tell me its delicious.
 
To which Mom replies "well then it can't have any good flavor."
 
I bought her the %$#ed canned soup.
 
And to this day she wonders why I don't bother to cook for her on her annual visits. . . .</content>
      <published_at>Tue Jan 31 18:31:00 -0800 2006</published_at>
      <parent_id>1699038</parent_id>
      <user>
        <id>0</id>
        <name>jenn</name>
      </user>
    </post>
    <post>
      <level>4</level>
      <id>1699040</id>
      <content>JMF, you love your parents. You may just have to give up the dream of turning them on to cuisine. Their lack of knowledge probably helped spur you on. And remember, you never have to have margarine on your bread ever again. 
 
Family and friends freely go into refrigerators. My first tasks when visiting my folks was to empty the fridge of moldy or dessicated leftovers and to change the kitty litter box. 
 
My mom is not a great cook, but she does some things well. Lol, it was a good Thanksgiving meal, but it wasn't my MOM'S. 
 
Wouldn't hurt to be more explicit with the folks. I'm really looking forward to making this wonderful recipe for you, so please don't help yourself to x, y, z in the fridge.
 
</content>
      <published_at>Tue Jan 31 14:17:04 -0800 2006</published_at>
      <parent_id>1699003</parent_id>
      <user>
        <id>0</id>
        <name>semmel</name>
      </user>
    </post>
    <post>
      <level>5</level>
      <id>1699068</id>
      <content>"And remember, you never have to have margarine on your bread ever again."
 

Indeed. I do love to be an adult and eat butter on my bread.</content>
      <published_at>Tue Jan 31 19:26:06 -0800 2006</published_at>
      <parent_id>1699040</parent_id>
      <user>
        <id>0</id>
        <name>JudiAU</name>
      </user>
    </post>
    <post>
      <level>1</level>
      <id>1699002</id>
      <content>I send you my deepest condolences. There are not words to say how sorry I am that you have parents who are so presumptive. So they don't appreciate or know about good food. Okay. But to clean out your refrigerator and to cook food therefrom without your permission is way, way, way out of line. I admire your self control. I would have sent them packing.</content>
      <published_at>Mon Jan 30 21:45:10 -0800 2006</published_at>
      <parent_id>1698995</parent_id>
      <user>
        <id>0</id>
        <name>Jeremy Newel</name>
      </user>
    </post>
    <post>
      <level>1</level>
      <id>1699020</id>
      <content>Aren't you fortunate that you have both of your parents alive and well to come visit you?  
 
For future reference, label your food in the fridge when your parents come to visit.  It may well preserve your sanity.</content>
      <published_at>Tue Jan 31 09:07:11 -0800 2006</published_at>
      <parent_id>1698995</parent_id>
      <user>
        <id>0</id>
        <name>BlueHerons</name>
      </user>
    </post>
    <post>
      <level>2</level>
      <id>1699032</id>
      <content>well, maybe yes, maybe no. It is possible that the behavior here went beyond cluelessness, and if it did, labeling it wouldn't have made any difference! After all, OP said that he had indicated he was making dinner, yet the parents starting cooking anyway.
 
reminds me of the time my ex Mother-in-law kept calling every day at six am, including on weekends, just to chat. She did this for about three weeks right after we were first married. Finally, ex-hubby got up the nerve to tell her that her calls were welcomed, but that we would really appreciate it if she didn't call before 8 a.m. She agreed.
 
Sure enough, next day, six am, the phone rings. Hubby answered, and his Mother said, "oh hi honey, I was just calling to see if you still don't want me to call at six a.m......"</content>
      <published_at>Tue Jan 31 12:23:21 -0800 2006</published_at>
      <parent_id>1699020</parent_id>
      <user>
        <id>0</id>
        <name>susancinsf</name>
      </user>
    </post>
    <post>
      <level>3</level>
      <id>1699051</id>
      <content>Whenever we have relatives visiting, we always make sure to have plenty of snacks and stuff for sandwiches on hand so that no one who gets hungry has to cook anything. I'd guess that the original poster was preparing dinner later than his parents are used to and they got hungry in the meantime and had to forage...</content>
      <published_at>Tue Jan 31 16:16:27 -0800 2006</published_at>
      <parent_id>1699032</parent_id>
      <user>
        <id>0</id>
        <name>butterfly</name>
      </user>
    </post>
    <post>
      <level>1</level>
      <id>1699034</id>
      <content>I feel your pain.  But still, family is family.  Since you know them well, plan accordingly when they visit.</content>
      <published_at>Tue Jan 31 12:33:39 -0800 2006</published_at>
      <parent_id>1698995</parent_id>
      <user>
        <id>0</id>
        <name>Peter</name>
      </user>
    </post>
    <post>
      <level>1</level>
      <id>1699035</id>
      <content>I hate when people cook in my kitchen!  Usually I have to make some self-depracating remark while shooing them out -- something like "Call me a control freak, but I really have a certain way I want to do this, and I'm going to get really uptight if you want to do it another way."
 
I don't know how old you are, but I think it's time you set some clearer limits with your parents.  You can say something like:  "You guys should know by now that good food is really important to me.  You saw how upset I got when you ruined the special pork, which I went through great trouble to get.  Please don't cook or touch my food at all when you come to my house, or I'm afraid I won't be able to invite you over any more."
 
You have to protect yourself from their invasiveness, whether it involves food or anything else.  It's kind of like the old saying "Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me."  At some point in adulthood, you have to take responsibility for not *letting* your parents do this to you, or else you'll be a victim forever.  I hope this doesn't sound harsh, I honestly mean it to be helpful!</content>
      <published_at>Tue Jan 31 12:34:01 -0800 2006</published_at>
      <parent_id>1698995</parent_id>
      <user>
        <id>0</id>
        <name>parkslopemama</name>
      </user>
    </post>
    <post>
      <level>2</level>
      <id>1699045</id>
      <content>Sorry but you're preaching to the choir here. I have to add... my folks are very elderly. I am a psychologist and know how to handle situations, limits, etc. But age causes other problems.</content>
      <published_at>Tue Jan 31 14:39:20 -0800 2006</published_at>
      <parent_id>1699035</parent_id>
      <user>
        <id>0</id>
        <name>JMF</name>
      </user>
    </post>
    <post>
      <level>3</level>
      <id>1699048</id>
      <content>A food consultant and psychologist?  Can you elaborate?  Do you specialize in eating disorders?  maybe i should start another thread?</content>
      <published_at>Tue Jan 31 15:07:04 -0800 2006</published_at>
      <parent_id>1699045</parent_id>
      <user>
        <id>0</id>
        <name>xoxo</name>
      </user>
    </post>
    <post>
      <level>4</level>
      <id>1699065</id>
      <content>Was an adventure therapist, wilderness guide, and mental health counselor for 15+ Years. Changed career back to original, food and wine.</content>
      <published_at>Tue Jan 31 19:04:49 -0800 2006</published_at>
      <parent_id>1699048</parent_id>
      <user>
        <id>0</id>
        <name>JMF</name>
      </user>
    </post>
    <post>
      <level>1</level>
      <id>1699060</id>
      <content>Everybody in my family can cook well, in-laws included. Food is central to our gatherings. But if they were serving hard-boiled crap on iceberg lettuce, I don't care, they are still my family. The day food affectations come between me and my family, or my friends, is the day I start living on pills. YMMV.</content>
      <published_at>Tue Jan 31 16:52:18 -0800 2006</published_at>
      <parent_id>1698995</parent_id>
      <user>
        <id>0</id>
        <name>Shep</name>
      </user>
    </post>
  </posts>
</topic>
