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Kids & Family

Food for Thought

A recent visit from my father-in-law to Fridley, Minnesota makes me reflect on how meals give me more than just physical nourishment.

The type of meals I prepare for my family might look something like this; poached salmon in a champagne sauce with herbs, linguine with asparagus in a lemon zest studded cream, or seared scallops with a side of tossed greens with watermelon and feta cheese. Often I get my recipes from my friends: Rachael (Ray) when I’m feeling humble, Martha (Stewart) when I’m feeling ambitious, and sometimes from the newest resource, Pintrest.

But I wasn’t raised on meals like this.

I come from meals of simplicity with a definitive Midwestern palate. Fried Spam with eggs for breakfast. Suppers of meat and potatoes (in a variety of forms), served with sides of buttered white bread (usually Taystee), creamed corn, cherry Jell-O with Cool Whip, salads of crisp iceberg lettuce smothered in Western French dressing, and Old Home cottage cheese.

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My mother is a wonderful home cook. Growing up, she made the most beautiful roasts, glistening dark gravies, starchy mashed potatoes and she was well versed in our state dinner: Hotdish. From tater tot and tuna to chicken and rice, she could out-dish the hottest combinations.

My father-in-law recently came for a visit with us. Typically, we make one traditional Meisner Meal while he is here, a “classic“ from the old recipe book that was handed down to me when I first got married. My spouse is delighted at this practice, as the only time I ever really break out that old recipe book, is when my father-in-law is here.

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I was particularly ambitious this last visit and took a try at a “Chantilly Torte.” This was a beloved birthday cake of my spouse and his siblings. I have seen many a picture of them young and energetic, sitting in front of that cake with candles glowing, their faces shiny with delight.

Mostly, I did more, ah-em, “observing” than actual baking, and I pleasantly spent a few evenings with my father-in-law putting one together. Warm stories of my mother-in-law were shared by him (she had tremendous domestic success, of which I have accepted I will never be able to quite equal!). And it got me to thinking how much food has been a part of my life, my pathway to memories and expression.

I grew up on lots of Family Favorites served at gatherings. For casual occasions it might be large pots of Pork and Noodle Hotdish, Goulash, Bouya or Stuffed Cabbage Rolls. For more formal celebrations perhaps Breaded Pork Chops (one of my favorites), Mock Chicken Legs, maybe Lasagna. And every Thanksgiving we have the coveted Noodle Ring (a round mold of egg noodles held together with cream and butter, steamy gravy at its center made out of mushrooms and gizzards), which my great-grandmother had adopted from the women in her family.

I have many wonderful childhood memories surrounded by my particular brand of
meals. What I find interesting is how much I have veered off course from my upbringing. I will cook goulash, let’s say, only occasionally, and it is only when I am in a certain sort of mood. Instead of using my old family recipe cards, some of them smudged by the working fingers of others before me, I will turn to the Internet, or the latest cookbook sporting the most on-trend ingredients and variations.

They tempt me with their underlying messages, hidden in their glossy photos: I’m a sophisticated cook! I’m an environmentally conscious buyer! I will impress my spouse and friends!

All of these things are good and fine, and truth be told, I enjoy being creative with my food and eating well. But, when my Chantilly Torte was done and I could see remnants of my spouse’s old childhood delight in eating it, I realized the importance of continuing the family legacy through food. There is something very personal and sacred about our meals, sharing them with loved ones, our living links to the past.

I decided maybe it’s time I start breaking out my family’s culinary gems a little more often, so that I too may pass down Family Favorites to my children. Because when I think about it, I always eat the most when I am in my mother’s house, eating one of her meals.

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