This entry is a little different than all the rest, but may help explain a bit of my foodie life.
A long, long time ago, I was a little girl. True fact. And for the first four years I was an only child. Just me and my mom happy as clams. I can't remember a whole lot of being so young but there are many other times I do remember, once my brother was born.
My first food memory involves... wait for it... Kraft Dinner!!! The very first thing I recall about food is my grandma feeding me KD. She had been staying at our house when my mom was about to have my brother so when the water broke they headed to the hospital. Grandma was left to feed me. It was around midnight I think and I declared I was hungry (Really, Tam, hungry at midnight...no, I just knew I could get away with it!). Grandma never was much of a cook (that's the polite version) and so KD was easy, fast and kept me happy.
Fast forward about 4 years and we lived in a townhouse complex, just me, my mom and little brother. This is when I formed my love of Alphaghetti. In our kitchen there was a window at chest height that looked into the dining room. When it was dinner time I would walk up to the window and place my order. We called this the "Drive-Thru" window and I was always in charge of passing the food from the window to the table. My mom would call out "order up" and make the ding sound of a bell. I turned on my best server face as I place the plates around the table. We didn't have a lot of money growing up and I recall eating a lot of Alphaghetti. My mom never ate it, she thinks its awful, but my brother and I loved it. To this day I still eat it the same way: Microwaved for 2.5 minutes with three slices of white bread. I tear the bread in half and scoop the noodles on to the bread. Then eat. Oh, it makes me want some right now.
Speaking of drive-thru, fast food was usually a treat for us. Burger King stands out in my memory as a place we would go every now and then. I don't remember any McDonald's trips necessarily, but I think I know why. My mom told me one day at Burger King that she likes them better because they put mayo on the burgers and McDonald's doesn't. HaHaHa! (Don't kill me mom!) At least we know I get it honestly.
By the time we met my step-dad I was old enough to have my own opinions. I was 11 going on 20 when we first met B and he invited us to his house for dinner. He BBQ'd a roast beef (WTF?) and burnt the crap out of it. When we left that evening I said "Thank you for dinner, it was very good, even the burnt part". We all cracked up at my honest yet witty remark and B never really cooked again. The two times I can remember haunt me. The first was "newfie fried steak" which really, is fried bologna. GROSS. Served with plain boiled macaroni noodles and ketchup. A for effort - he'd never had to feed children before, and barely cooked for himself as a bachelor. The second was less disgusting, more traumatizing. Mom was away and we were having steak. He made a big spread and as we ate we discussed the types of meat we had tried. Bro and I said only ever cow - nothing crazier. We never, ever wanted to try Buffalo, or Venison, or Shark. Just cow please. This was the yummiest steak I'd ever eaten. Probably to this day. I asked him as we did dishes what he did to make it so great. He looked me dead in the eyes and said "It's deer meat, our neighbour went hunting and killed a deer. He gave us venison steaks." I lost my mind. I was screaming and crying. "You lied to me! I hate you!". But probably 15 years later, I thank him. For now I will enjoy a venison, or a buffalo steak, and I won't throw a hissy fit.
After B and mom separated the Food Network hit the airwaves. I was in glorious TV heaven. There was a whole channel dedicated to cooking, and teaching you how to cook. The sounds of Emeril "BAM" Lagasse filled our living room after school from 4pm until dinner was called. I would watch Anna Olsen and Ina Garten for hours on end. My mom would always know where to find me, on the couch with a bag of Sour Cream 'n Onion chips and a can of Coke, intently following along. I never made any of the recipes I saw on TV, but knew that once my mom started watching she also would be hooked. And now, many years later we can dish over the phone about the latest recipe, or the newest show on FN. Even though we are miles apart, sometimes FN can bring us closer together.
I feel fortunate that I grew up with a mom like mine. There were times when money was tight, but never a fear of not having dinner. There were times was she was stressed, but I could always count on her to sit down at a meal with us and put her thoughts away for that short time. As we grew up and were involved in highschool activities and sports there was always an organized chaos in our house. At 16, 12 and 4 years of age it was difficult at best to get us all in one spot for dinner. But we could always count on mom. As a matter of fact, many neighbourhood kids and our best friends always knew they could have a meal too. She was hard pressed to turn away a hungry kid. Even if it was Subway or Stroganoff, there was food on the table. Sundays were family dinner, no matter what. A lot of eating during the week was done in passing - on the way to baseball or cheerleading - but Sunday's was a big dinner. I miss those sometimes and I know that Mike and I will instill that in our family one day.
I can call my mom in the grocery store in a panic and ask her how she makes her *insert special dish here* and she'll walk me through the recipe by heart. Or I can text her about who won the latest Top Chef Canada. More often lately I can call her just to chat and it turns out we are making the exact same thing for dinner the next night. She certainly didn't get her cooking skills from her mom, but I can proudly say that I got my skills from my mom. She has shown me that food can bring a family together over happy times, or sad; if you've got two hours or just ten minutes. She once shipped me an entire turkey dinner - FROZEN - FedEx'd overnight from London to Calgary just so I could have some of her home cookin' when I first moved away. What a lady.
I am forever grateful of the things she has taught me and I cherish every minute. I look forward to the day that she will cook my first born KD in the middle of the night.
One last lesson she quite recently taught me:
If you put the whole shaker of salt in the soup say "fuck it" and serve it anyway.
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