Random Funny Food Memories
- mamachef Mar 12, 2011 12:43 AM
I have no idea what made me think of this, but I thought it worth asking the rest of y'all about. I have a particularly funny food memory of a kick my mom the uncook went on whereby she'd save all leftovers and serve up a big heapin' helpin of 'em once a week. So, for the first week it's Darling Baby Sister's turn to do the clearing, and mom asked her to save the leftovers, which she obediently did. When mom hauled out containers, she found:
Veal gravy from veal stew
Beef gravy from beef stew
2 half-gnawed chicken legs that nobody's admitted to, to this day
Sauce from sweet/sour meatballs, with a few noodles floating
And finally, and I promise this is the truth:
A container holding 3 peas, 6 carrot cubes, and a Brussels sprout.
We went out for pizza that night, and from then on mom supervised the acceptable definition of just exactly what a "leftover" means. : )
Whatcha got? We all need some good laughs lately, don't we?
My brother's very first temper tantrum was over brussels sprouts... and probably not in the way you'd imagine. He was still in a high chair, and mom and dad decided to have sprouts with dinner. They bought and made just enough for the two of them, with a *few* for me and my brother to try since we'd never had them before and were still quite young. Mom steamed them perfectly, cut them into quarters, buttered them just so, salt and pepper... and then set them in front of us with no small amount of trepidation. I ate them and liked them fine and moved on.
My brother, on the other hand, decided that they were the best thing he'd ever tasted, quietly devoured them along with the rest of his food, and when his plate was clean, he folded his hands, and said in his sweetest, politest voice, "Mommy, may I pleeeease have some more brussels sprouts?"
Mom (surprised, as you might imagine) replied, "Oh, honey, thank you for asking so politely, but there aren't any more!"
Whereupon my brother calmly put his napkin down, slid the high-chair tray back, climbed out, laid down on the floor, and proceeded to pitch a fit. Sprouts got a more regular spot in the side-veggie rotation from then on, I can tell you!
That's hilarious. It's hard to imagine a child really liking something so intense. My son's first (and probably last) exposure to Brussels sprouts went somewhat differently.
I have to admit that I don't like them (and I grew up in a place where they were always very fresh--I never knew you could buy them pre-cut off the stalk until I moved to New England) but my daughter wanted to try them, so I bought a small stalk of them at Whole Foods and cooked them. She loved them plain, without butter or salt. I told my son he had to eat one.
He picked one up, sniffed it, made a face, then put it in his mouth. Then all hell broke loose. He ran to the front hall, threw himself down on the rug, then began rolling around, making agonized gagging sounds. Because he has food allergies, I got worried. I asked him if he was okay. He sat up and replied, "That was the most disgusting thing I ever ate. Was it poisonous?"
re: Stephanie Wong
>when as a child I declined trying something unfamiliar, Dad would immediately take it from me, devour all of it & say "oh, boy; oh, boy, more for me!"
Theoretically, that should work! But here's one of my favorite funny stories (though more about eating than about food as such). It is a very recent one involving my adorable granddaughter, who will be three later this week, and who tends to know what she wants (so reverse psychology doesn't always work).
Anyway, she was eating a meal with my daughter (her mom) and announced that she 'wanted to use the big fork', not her toddler-sized fork. My daughter was not happy about this, because granddaughter tends to make more of a mess with bigger utensils, but decided to go along, with a bit of reverse psychology: daughter gave granddaughter her big fork, grabbed the little fork and started eating with it, saying, 'I like using this little fork better'.
Granddaughter, as she continued to eat with the big fork, 'well, that's good, because I like this one'. :-)
Our next door neighbor is quite a cook and I was pretty amazed at the special meal request she got from her daughter on her 9th birthday........................... 15 Boy Curry!!!!!!!!!
BOY!!!!!!!!!! CURRY!!!!!!!!!!! 9 years old??? and............... this is most definitely not part of any family original or ethnicity. 'Just' a Mom who's a great cook. Mealtime may come as a shock to this terrific young lady, especially if she goes off to college and lives in a dorm, that most of the people she'll meet did not grow up with such chow diversity in their homes.
When I was first married I served beans in some form to Mr. Sueatmo, and sometime during the meal he demanded "Why don't we ever buy peppers?" I remembered this, and I bought bottled vinegar sauce with small peppers in the bottle, which is what my dad always liked on his beans. Soon after, Mr. Sueatmo demanded to know why we still never had peppers to eat! I produced the bottled pepper sauce, and he was flummoxed, to say the least. "We never communicate", he said. He of course meant why didn't we ever have any green peppers? To this day, decades later, he still says, "We never communicate."
Years before my mom did the craziest thing I ever saw her do. She came home from grocery shopping, and even before putting everything else away, she pulled a frozen pie out of the grocery bag, opened it, and put into the oven. (I suppose it had not even preheated. She apparently wanted pie, big time.) She checked on it a little later and was astonished that it was melting, not baking. She had attempted to bake an ice cream pie!
My Grandma and her sister were making homemade pasta noodles. They would roll the dough out cut it, place it on the bed that had a sheet on top of it to dry. They were at it for quite some time and felt like they had hardly made any pasta. Come to discover the dog was eating it as they made it.
My husband does not care for Angel food cake. I really wanted some with some summer straberries. So I made one and was cooling it on the ocunter. We went out for a while and when I went into the kitchen later I asked where he put the cake. I could not find it any where, not even a crumb. I thought he was teasing me and hid it. My sweet Bull Mastiff Daisy had eaten the whole thing. That was the only time she ever jumped up on the counters.
We were Barbequeing hot dogs on a Hibachi grill in the back yard. Went in the house for something and upon our return the dogs were gone. Our long haired mutt had stolen them from the grill, with out one singed hair.
my dear departed calico Lulu was quite the Chowkitty...with the extra weight on her frame to prove it as she got older :) once when i brought her back East with me for a visit with my folks, we were sitting at the kitchen table catching up with an old family friend over brunch brought in from Zabars. out of nowhere, Lulu sprang onto the table, snatched up a huge chocolate croissant in her mouth right off a plate, and darted off with it. i think we laughed for a good 15 minutes.
Oh did THIS bring back a memory, Midlife. I worked one Summer as an au pair, and the mom would call and ask me to take something out of the freezer in time for dinner; no problem. Until the day the (4-ft. tall) Great Dane got in the back while the rest of us were out in front, and proceeded to literally unwrap the Tenderloin I'd taken out. No, she didn't tear into it, because it wasn't decimated, she was much more delicate than that. All I know is, that big beautiful roast was GONE and there was a pretty-darn-intact wrapper on the floor. At any rate, mom got home within about 5 minutes of this and I showed her the wrapper, and I swear to this day, I think she thought I ate that roast. All 4'10" and 90 pounds of me, soaking wet.
If it makes you feel any better my beloved black lab actually jumped up on the table and started cleaning plates during a dinner party. Thankfully my guests 1) had just left the table to relocate to the lounge 2) are dog friendly people 3) are very forgiving people in general. Harvey thought all his Christmases had come at once and I didn't know whether to laugh, cry or be morbidly embarrassed. I had never seen such behaviour from him before, so I have no idea what came over him. Thankfully he was an exceptionally handsome member of his breed, thus easily forgiven.
I would give anything to have him here raiding my table tonight.
Mom's dog loved apples. Adored apples. Lived for apples. Every evening mom would sit on the couch about an hour after dinner and share an apple with Pav. I still can't make apple pie without looking at the pile of apple cores and feel sad about having to throw them away.
He would eat just about anything else too. Left a loaf of rye bread on the counter once and went to take the laundry out of the washer and put it in the dryer. Put another load in the washer. 10 minutes max. Came back and the rye bread was gone... pieces of wrapper on the floor, and a VERY thirsty little doggie. A Welsh Corgi. We never did figure out how he even got to the bread, let alone ate it that fast.
I love this!
My favourite funny food memory is a recent one and may be slightly inappropriate, but I hope you can bear with me.
Some girlfriends and I were catching up for the first time in ages and we decided to treat ourselves and go to a fantastic wine bar in our city. As we're all nurses it's quite difficult for us to arrange shifts and schedules for us to catch up - we all had so much to catch up on.
I should probably also add we subscribe to the typical nurse logic of work hard/play hard. We're all up front, confident with really twisted senses of humour. I might also add that the other members of my party are all exceptionally beautiful young women.
So we sat down in the fabulous bar, ordered drinks and food and kicked the evening off. I happen to be a bit flirtatious and usually enjoy a bit of banter with staff. I struck up an accord with the waiter, who was completely charming and was looking after us really well. The evening flowed on, the rest of my party ordered cheeses and more wine - I don't eat cheese and the waiter was busy elsewhere, so I placed my dessert order with another waitress and continued on with my friends.
The conversation turned to one of my friends who had had a boob job since the last time we saw her. Being that we'd had a few drinks, are all health care nerds and, well, just interested, it was quite a topic of discussion. Hospital stay, type of implant used, placement, etc. was all very interesting and important to us. And being the curious type I am I wanted to know if they felt real and my lovely friend being the obliging type she is came around to my side of the table so I could feel for myself. I had to say the surgeon had done a marvellous job and was expressing how impressed I was by how real they seemed.
I am not too sure if our waiter timed it on purpose or not, but his timing was beautiful as he came to our table with my valrhona chocolate pudding. The expression on his face was priceless as he realised that he couldn't put my dessert on the table as he was being blocked by a beautiful woman having her breasts massaged by myself. Of course we all lost it laughing; he handled it like a true gentleman and I assured him that my friend had truly excellent breasts, just in case he was wondering.
Tipping is not the norm in our culture, but we all decided at the end of the evening that he absolutely deserved something extra for being such a star and putting up with a table such as ours.
Teaching my two-year-old niece to eat spaghetti with her hands. It went over big with her parents.