[Written for Fathers' Day, June 17, 2007.]
I remember that our kitchen and dining room were uniquely equipped. We have had some interesting tables, including a couple of round plastic tables acquired from ward surplus, and the beautiful wooden table inherited from Dad's parents. We have also had unique chairs, including the Swedish Tripp Trapp chairs that were both numerous and sturdy when I was young, but which are by now an endangered species.
A few kitchen implements also stand out in my memory. First, the cheese slicers, the like of which nobody else had. These have been imprinted in my memory as the Platonic ideal of cheese slicing utensils, although no store seems to carry them any more. Second, Dad's big knife. This was used for everything from gardening to serving ice cream. It had a utilitarian thick black plastic handle and a blade that I can only describe as stubby, but it was tremendously useful. It's the kind of tool I would want to have with me on a desert island. Third, the wooden spoon and fork used primarily for serving salad. There were other uses for these utensils as well, and some of us got to know them better than we wished to.
All of us remember (and love) our Christmas Eve dinners, with traditions inherited from Mom's family. I also have very fond memories of our Thanksgiving dinners in Kansas, usually celebrated with a handful of foreign students from the university. Dad would bring them home for a real American Thanksgiivng meal, complete with his own special brand of stuffing (an elegant recipe, as we say in social science). Then, after dinner, we would play soccer in the back yard, where we would invariably be impressed with the skills of our guests.
The back yard was also the source of many of our favorite foods, including tomatoes. Some summer nights now I lie awake, tormented by the memories of those red, ripe tomatoes, consumed in their abundance, wantonly. Store-bought tomatoes aren't even remotely comparable to home-grown tomatoes, fresh out of the garden and still warm from the sun. Dad taught us to eat eat them whole, like apples (with a little salt).
Another thing I learned from Dad's example was that spicy food is manly. In this, and only this, I think I may have surpassed my father. But all of us boys, I think, grew up seeing two bowls of salsa and wanting to eat from the same bowl that Dad used. Imitation, it is said, is the sincerest form of flattery, and the universal love of hot peppers among the Payne boys is a wordless tribute to our desire to be like our father.
There's more, to say, of course. I'd love to talk about peanut butter and banana sandwiches, trifle, fried cheese, Mom's orange cranberry bread, and pizza cooked in cast-iron skillets. But I need to put my tie on and go to church, and I think I've said what I wanted to: I have happy memories of home, I love food, and I love my parents. Happy Father's Day, Dad.
love
JOHN
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Sam's Food Memories
As part of the family history, this year we are writing about our memories of Dad as it relates to food. I'm glad for the occasion to write about such a unique topic, because it brings up some less mentioned memories. Perhaps they are not as dramatic as the time I got hit by a car, but I'm sure that dad was eating something at the ball game, from which he was beckoned.
My first memory of food with Dad is the cheese and crackers of his office. In Cape Girardeau, my elementary school was on the SEMO campus close to dad's office. Sometimes after school I would go over to dad's office and play. I always remembered the cheese and crackers in his desk drawer next to a portion of his knife collection and other trinkets. I remember building a big model ship, a battleship or naval aircraft carrier. As we would glue the pieces together, there was an endless supply of saltines. (At some times, the saltines would be replaced with food storage crackers, but saltines were the usual).
A second fun memory is of watching TV with dad while he ate an apple. This is perhaps not that distinct, except for the fact that dad was eating the apple with a spoon. He had cut the apple in half, and was trying to scoop out the apple without breaking the peel. I thought it funny, and he related that his dad had done the same.
As is probably mentioned by other siblings, I remember the gardens we had. The big one in Cape which was a few streets over, and had probably an acre of corn. The more modest one in Emporia with the mulberry tree next to it. I remember many summer days getting lunch solely from the garden, washing carrots off in the pool and then eating them in the back yard. I also remember taking the raspberry bush stems with us on every move. The day that we left Springfield, I remember driving in the van to a bank and emptying our accounts for cash (the most I had ever seen up to that point). Then in the van we drove to our new home. In the car with us was this giant load of
cash, and a pet(?) and the raspberry stems carefully wrapped in wet newspaper.
Another fun food memory is the cache of bottled soda that dad recovered during the Mississippi flood in Cape. More grape Crush soda then a boy could imagine. (the only other time I've seen that brand is in Thailand, so it has really good memories for me all around) I've never gotten over my sweet tooth for soda. I'm fuzzy on the details of that event; I think that dad was driving back from some stake church meeting and noticed a semi stalled on the road with its back doors open, giving away as much as a person could haul. Luckily we had a van! It lasted for a long time in my memory, down in the food storage next to our home-canned peaches and grape juice. I know
that it lasted at least until we moved to Springfield, because I remember it at my birthday party that year.
I remember in Cape, the boys (John, me and Dan) slept in the unfurnished basement room that adjoined the food storage. Around Christmas one year, John and I found the big chocolate hunks (it was the first time I remember ever seeing white chocolate). We got a knife and started nicking some chocolate, pretty frequently but in small quantities. Of course, you can't mistake a big bar of chocolate with the corner missing, but at the time I thought I was being discrete.
I remember eating nearly every meal with my dad. As a grown-up worker now, I understand how difficult that is. My boys are hungry at 5 sharp. But I know that having a father at meals will be more of a blessing to them, than any scientific advance I could gain.
Thanks
My first memory of food with Dad is the cheese and crackers of his office. In Cape Girardeau, my elementary school was on the SEMO campus close to dad's office. Sometimes after school I would go over to dad's office and play. I always remembered the cheese and crackers in his desk drawer next to a portion of his knife collection and other trinkets. I remember building a big model ship, a battleship or naval aircraft carrier. As we would glue the pieces together, there was an endless supply of saltines. (At some times, the saltines would be replaced with food storage crackers, but saltines were the usual).
A second fun memory is of watching TV with dad while he ate an apple. This is perhaps not that distinct, except for the fact that dad was eating the apple with a spoon. He had cut the apple in half, and was trying to scoop out the apple without breaking the peel. I thought it funny, and he related that his dad had done the same.
As is probably mentioned by other siblings, I remember the gardens we had. The big one in Cape which was a few streets over, and had probably an acre of corn. The more modest one in Emporia with the mulberry tree next to it. I remember many summer days getting lunch solely from the garden, washing carrots off in the pool and then eating them in the back yard. I also remember taking the raspberry bush stems with us on every move. The day that we left Springfield, I remember driving in the van to a bank and emptying our accounts for cash (the most I had ever seen up to that point). Then in the van we drove to our new home. In the car with us was this giant load of
cash, and a pet(?) and the raspberry stems carefully wrapped in wet newspaper.
Another fun food memory is the cache of bottled soda that dad recovered during the Mississippi flood in Cape. More grape Crush soda then a boy could imagine. (the only other time I've seen that brand is in Thailand, so it has really good memories for me all around) I've never gotten over my sweet tooth for soda. I'm fuzzy on the details of that event; I think that dad was driving back from some stake church meeting and noticed a semi stalled on the road with its back doors open, giving away as much as a person could haul. Luckily we had a van! It lasted for a long time in my memory, down in the food storage next to our home-canned peaches and grape juice. I know
that it lasted at least until we moved to Springfield, because I remember it at my birthday party that year.
I remember in Cape, the boys (John, me and Dan) slept in the unfurnished basement room that adjoined the food storage. Around Christmas one year, John and I found the big chocolate hunks (it was the first time I remember ever seeing white chocolate). We got a knife and started nicking some chocolate, pretty frequently but in small quantities. Of course, you can't mistake a big bar of chocolate with the corner missing, but at the time I thought I was being discrete.
I remember eating nearly every meal with my dad. As a grown-up worker now, I understand how difficult that is. My boys are hungry at 5 sharp. But I know that having a father at meals will be more of a blessing to them, than any scientific advance I could gain.
Thanks
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)