Okay, this is sort of stretching Food Fridays a bit, but it is Friday and it does involve food. And hey, it’s my blog!
Though I do feel the need to warn those with weak stomaches! Trust me, it will be funny, but parts are just, well, gross. Consider yourself warned.
While hubby, Larry, and I were dating back in the late 70’s, he suggested we go to visit my dad’s parents one day as he’d never been to their house. It was not usually a good visit for me, so I just never instigated taking him there. On the way over, I forgot to give any warning or instructions. Having grown up with certain “understandings” it was just second nature for the family and it escaped my mind that I had a “newbie” with me.
My grandmother offering pie or some other store bought dessert as you arrive is a usual occurrence at their house, but this is the one important aspect of the visit I forgot to give the detailed instructions on what the proper response is to Larry before we get there.
We arrive and join the grandparents in the living room. They greet us and then it happened. My grandmother says, “Gary, would you like a piece of pie?”
Let me interrupt here. Two things you need to know: 1) My grandmother never called anyone by their real name so that wasn’t a typo, and 2) if you haven’t read any other blog posts of mine, you need to know that my hubby is a real sugar head. He will never turn down a sweet or dessert that is offered. Back to the visit.
After my grandmother asks Larry (or Gary!) if he would like pie, I quickly answer, “No thanks, we just had lunch and are still pretty full.” Larry’s mouth is still open as he was about to accept this piece of pie and he looks over at me very puzzled.
My grandmother says, “Well, it’s blueberry pie and Elmer (my grandfather, whose real name is John) just brought it home.”
At this point, Larry is trying to figure out why I won’t let him have pie. He likes pie. He likes blueberry pie, too. And he would really like to have a piece of this blueberry pie! I’m trying to give him “the look” but apparently we haven’t been dating long enough at this point to have mastered this between us! He’s not getting it, so I work hard at changing the subject.
Eventually it worked and we continued on with another subject. Yet by the look on Larry’s face, you could tell he was totally confused.
After a bit of visiting we leave. As we get into the car Larry said, “How come you wouldn’t let me have a piece of pie? I like pie and blueberry pie, too!”
I replied, “you don’t eat anything here unless you brought it.”
He said, “huh? Why?”
I said, “just because. You don’t want to know. Just don’t eat it, if you didn’t bring it, that’s all.”
He wouldn’t leave it alone, and after a few minutes of him prying and me trying to change the subject I finally gave in and explained it. I said, “okay, enough already. If you want to know, I’ll tell you. It’s gross, but you asked for it.”
(Brace yourself folks – it ain’t pretty!)
A long time ago my grandmother had us come for supper. She made spaghetti and my dad loved spaghetti. We’d been eating and visiting a while. My dad was on his second large helping and noticed my mom was just moving food around her plate and not eating.
He asked, “Jeanne, why aren’t you eating your spaghetti?”
She said, “I’m full, so I’m done.”
He said, “It doesn’t even look like you’ve had any.”
Back and forth a couple times they went. My dad digging, my mom avoiding. She finally said, “I’m not eating any because the spaghetti on my plate is moving. There’s maggots in the spaghetti. There, you satisfied now?”
My dad had a weak stomach so he jumped up and bolted for the bathroom to lose his spaghetti.
At the end of this explanation to Larry he said, “well, that was just one time, why would you not eat her food anymore?”
I said, “can’t leave it alone can you? Okay, I’ll tell you another reason you don’t eat it if you don’t bring it. This one is worse. Maybe then you’ll get the point without more stories.” I continue on with another food story.
We’d all had a family Thanksgiving at my grandparents home. It was later than normal because the turkey was still frozen early that morning, so we had to wait until late afternoon for it to be cooked enough to eat.
The following week my aunt went to the dentist. Our whole family used the same dentist in our little ‘burb of Akron, Ohio. My aunt has a terrible phobia of germs, cross contamination, you name it. It’s over the top. I tell Larry this so he can understand the reaction my aunt had at the dentist.
The dentist was working on my aunt. Her mouth is open and the dentist said to her, “I hear you had an eventful Thanksgiving at the in-laws.” He continues, “I heard the turkey took longer than normal to cook, it just wouldn’t cook through.” My aunt mumbled a “yes” through her propped open mouth. The dentist continued. “I heard about it on Monday when she was in here. I needed to make her a new partial. She said she was making the stuffing for Thanksgiving and was chopping the celery and onions in a blender when her partial fell in, but she couldn’t get the machine off in time and the partial got all ground up. Apparently, you all ate the………
At this point my aunt projectiled all over the dentist, the wall and everywhere else. She jumped from the chair and ran outside and drove home, with the little bib still clipped around her neck.
I said, “this, Larry, is why…’if you didn’t bring it, you don’t eat it’. There’s more stories, need I go on?”
He quietly said, “enough said.”
Today, I’m thinking this may be one of the reasons I began to love to cook! This way I would always know what was in my food. I can tell you for a fact, I have never had “friends” in my spaghetti and I’ve never served my dental work in my stuffing!
…and that’s all I have to say about that!