As a child, I did not have the refined palate that I do now, so when my father put a bowl of green goo in front of me and told me to enjoy the delicious split pea soup he made from scratch after working a 12 hour day, well, let’s just say I was not pleased.
But, you see, I grew up in a house that served what the parents wanted to eat. And if the kids didn’t like it, well, that’s just tough. Incidentally, that evening ended up in a standoff between me and dad as I “accidentally” flavored said soup with what I “thought” was salt which was in fact, sugar. My dad and I sat at the table til the wee hours of the night playing the “you will NOT get up from this table until you finish the dinner you intentionally ruined” game. I won.
I remember like it was yesterday the look of exhaust and frustration on Big Mo’s face as he sat directly across from me willing me to just eat the fucking soup so we can both get on with our lives! But, he created the perfect storm with me….you can’t out stubborn a child you made! I’m just like you!! If you think I’m letting you get the last word…well, then you’re just wrong.
But, I don’t look back on the night with malice…I love that story! It makes me laugh just picturing his tired face looking at me, knowing his plan had gone horribly awry. Too late to back out now, old man!! Ha! I’ll sit here til I’m a teen if that’s what it takes! I don’t have to work in the morning, I’m 7. No WAY I’m eating the gross split pea soup (which, BTW, is grosser when it’s been sitting in your bowl for 3 hours and you dumped a bunch of sugar into it in a failed attempt to get out of eating said soup). The horror! Who feeds that to a child? A bowl of green goop? No child wants that. But, you see, my parents were GOOD parents who didn’t give a shit what there three little kids wanted to eat. Dad had peas in the freezer, split pea soup it was. There was no chicken fingers and fries for the kids and grownup food for the grownups. We ate what our parents made for us, and we liked it. Or, we didn’t eat.
Remember when that was okay? Remember when social services wasn’t alerted because your kid didn’t like the pork tenderloin you spend hours preparing so he went to bed hungry and then he didn’t die. I don’t know who I thought I was kidding, this chubby kid claiming I would starve to death! Yeah, maybe after spending the winter with the Donner Party and really, who are we kidding, not even then. My parents listened to our groans about the abuse we were enduring by being forced to eat all kinds of weird ass food that none of the other kids parent’s made them eat. Sweet tea anyone? Well, not in my house! We were the only family in Darlington County that didn’t have sweet tea in the fridge. Nope, only unsweet at the Farishes. You want some cereal? Okay, we have Grape Nuts or Cheerios, your pick. And guess what happened? My brothers and I lived. And I somehow managed to stay chubby all the while!
You know what else happened? I’m a foodie! I appreciate good food, made with love. I enjoy when my parents cook for me now. It’s not only delicious, but it’s nostalgic. It reminds me of that terrible linoleum we had in the kitchen and the way my dad would always try to watch the news while we ate without mom knowing (yeah, she totally can’t see you craning your neck from 2 feet away, smooth dad. Must be where I get it from). It reminds me of all of the food crazes of the 80’s…fondue anyone? We ate so much goddamned fondue I thought we were Swiss! My mother still blames me and my brother for breaking her garbage disposal with a fondue fork. It’s still a thing my mother brings up to. This. Day.
It reminds me that food is an expression of love. So, before you bust out that pre-made chicken finger and French fry meal that the kids love…mash up some peas, mix it with some chicken broth, serve it up and make some memories people!
Ciao Y’all 