My parents tell me that they did not have foodways in common when they met. In fact, my mother says that the first year they knew each other she pretended to like the foods he liked. My dad was born in South Carolina, and his parents moved to Detroit with his grandmother on his mother’s side when he was a baby. Both parents worked in the car industry, and they did not have much money. His mother was also a terrible cook. He remembers having a lot of Wonderbread dipped in soda or “pop,” as they say in Detroit for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. His grandmother was a good cook though and made fried chicken, grits, and sweet potato pie. They had corn from a can, and he can’t remember ever having salad.
My mother’s mother was English and went to school in France. When she married my American grandfather, she learned how to cook from some French cookbooks and from Julia Child, who had a television show. My grandfather loved what she made except for the fact that she never made dessert. She hated sweet things, and my mother says she couldn’t even her own birthday cake when she was a child. My mother says her father called their family dessert poor and would take her and her brother out to get ice cream cones after dinner. My grandfather’s favorite breakfast was half a cantaloupe with a scoop of vanilla ice cream in the middle, and my grandmother could not even look at it. They had salad for dinner every night and lots of other fresh vegetables as well from their own garden.
When my mother first met my father, he gave her a glass of coke, which she hates, and a Hostess Twinkie. She said she didn’t know they were still allowed to sell them. The first time he took her to a restaurant for a special occasion, they went to Sylvia’s in Harlem. She pretended to love the food but actually thought it was too greasy. He also took her to a soul food restaurant for breakfast on a regular basis. She hated almost everything but said it was delicious. After they were married, my father says they ate disgustingly healthily. Now he is used to healthy food, and as long as my mom makes fruit tarts for dessert, he is happy.
How does my mother’s cooking affect me? I am used to a huge variety of foods and salad every night. Last night we had mussels, corn on the cob, salad, French bread, and a blueberry tart. This is one of my favorite dinners. I love our dinners except for the fact that during the week we never have dessert. There is usually fruit though. I could also use some more chocolate. My brother and I were never allowed to have candy growing up. No – that’s not fair. We could have gummy worms and bears from the health food store that were sweetened with fruit juice. Neither one of us has ever had a cavity. We used to get chocolate bars once and a while and hide the wrapper where mom would never find them. Except that she did find them. Now that my brother is at Columbia studying public health and helping children in Northern Manhattan who suffer from obesity and asthma, he really appreciates the way my mother fed us. We also play a lot of sports, and our coaches tell us to eat the same things we have always had at home. There is one problem though. My mother only buys enough food for each meal. Our refrigerator is often practically on empty.
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