OK, so even though I had a few other topics lined up to chat about today, in the blogging world, there’s a Comfort Food topic contest going on, and since midnight tonight is the deadline for entries, I gotta get with it. Sara Moulton’s exit from Food Network will have to wait until tomorrow am.
Over on the Who Wants Seconds blog, Moira is collecting the entries. Check it out next week for the entries and winner.
On with the program…
To me, comfort food isn’t necessarily about the food, but more so associated with the memory attached to it, and who you’re sharing it with. Thinking strictly in terms of food, traditional comfort food would usually conjure up visions of baked macaroni and cheese with that nice, thin crust on top … or perhaps your Mom’s apple pie, fresh from the windowsill in the summertime, when the living is easy … hot soup on a cold wintery day … things along those lines.
For me, comfort food is enjoined with the memory that goes with it. Ginger ale from my mom when I was home sick from school, back when my only priority was hanging out with friends and finding out who was going out with who. Tomato soup with crunchy croutons and a side of grilled cheese for dinner in front of the TV when my Dad was out of town, and it was just me, my mom and my younger sister. My mom’s Cheese Delights … when my parents would entertain, after the guests moved from the living room to the dining room, my sister and I would sneak downstairs and munch on the leftover appetizers, and one of our favorites were the Cheese Delights (an artery-clogging concoction of cheeses and mayo broiled on an English muffin … so delicious!). The first meal I made for The Husband when we were dating … tuna fish sandwiches! I know, real gourmet, right? You know I had it bad when I actually made the tuna the night before because I wanted to make sure it was absolutely perfect, with no tuna fish chunks. My grandmother’s Fruit Pizza. Every time we’d go to Texas to go visit her, as soon as we’d arrive, we’d sit down for a slice of Fruit Pizza that she made especially for us. Now that she has Alzheimer’s, this memory is even richer for me. A plate of warm, buttered noodles shared by my two-year-old son when my husband is working late.
Comfort food is a lot about the food, but more about the memories. Take comfort in yours.