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That isn't to say she doesn't love food. She planted the seed in me, and I've just developed it into a flourishing case of food obsession and snobbery. I still share though, and the older I get, the more I appreciate the instilled traditions and the sense of food community she created (like sharing all that monstrous overgrown zucchini from the garden with unsuspecting neighbors!)
Seriously, we always had three meals a day, and we always ate as a family. Now, when I was the supercool age of thirteen, smoking Newport Lights and wearing A LOT of eyeshadow, I didn't think the family dinners were so great, but looking back, I'm nostalgic about the routine of having to "set the table and pour the milk" every night.
I appreciate the vegetables from her garden we had all summer long, especially the tomatoes, which I'd have with toast and cheese as a tv-time snack, or sprinkled with pepper alongside a plate of cottage cheese.
I appreciate the Sara Lee Pecan Coffee Cake we had every Christmas morning, and the week she spent making labor-intensive Christmas cookies, like powdered-sugar shortbreads, thumbprints and mini "pie" cookies filled with jam and nuts.
I appreciate the breakfast-for-dinner dinners, and the "pick plate" dinners, which were artfully assembled kaleidoscopes of the week's refurbished leftovers.
I appreciate the afterschool triscuits and cheese snacks, and the "secret" have-a-nice-day-i-love-you notes written on the napkin in my bag lunches. How many moms do you know who were that corny? In a good way I mean!
She taught me how to make banana bread, garlic mashed potatoes, and linguine with white clam sauce; and when I was a little training-wheels shortie, she'd let me stir up old cereal, ketchup, soda and whatever kitchen items I could reach, in a big pot so I could "cook" too.
Even though she says I'm the better cook now, she can still tear it up in the kitchen, so THANKS MOM for teaching me about the important stuff and making everything taste better.
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