I put down my fork after supper the other evening and remembered our family suppers when I was a kid.
I do mean family. If Ed and I wanted to eat, we were in our places with clean hands when the clock struck 6 p.m. We were expected to join in the table talk, but waited until a quiet moment to ask if we could be excused. I suppose Mom and Dad and Grandma continued the conversation. We had serious playing to do.
Ed and I were picky eaters. Until his dying day, Ed would not eat tomatoes or anything with tomato in it or on it. I was pretty much the same, although I have learned to eat a slice of tomato now and then, albeit without enjoyment.
We came by our selective eating habits honestly. Dad had a million of them. He would not touch either lamb or veal, no matter how Mom tried to disguise it. A meal without bread was no meal, according to Dad. He wanted his potatoes fried. Even after he developed an ulcer and fried food was forbidden, he insisted that mashed potatoes “kicked up” his ulcer while fried potatoes did not.
His breakfast was interesting. He wanted bacon and eggs. Make that “egg.” Mom was to break the egg into the bacon grease and, being careful not to break the yolk, fry it very hard before adding it to the plate of bacon. Dad would take out his pocket knife, carefully slit the egg white, peel it back to expose the yolk and cut the yolk in half. If it was even a slightly darker yellow there in the middle, it went back into the frying pan.
When it was all done to his exacting standard, he would call our collie, “Here Lady!”, and slip her the egg yolk while he dug into his plate of bacon and egg.
He was not a good ulcer patient although he did bend enough to order a chocolate malt at Webster’s Drug Store instead of a bottle of Coke. It cost 15 cents and filled the stainless steel mixer. I had my first taste of chocolate malt when Dad left a bit for me to try. I thought I’d gone to heaven.
Dad was a slow eater. He was known to take as long as two hours over Sunday dinner. He relished each bite and put his knife and fork down between bites. He liked to talk to us. It was all part of Dad’s dining room rhythm.
Then, when my “picky” brother, Mike, came home from college for the first time, I was concerned about cooking his favorites exactly right. His comment? “Oh, I eat anything now!”
With few exceptions, so do I.
Liz Ciancone is a retired Tribune-Star reporter. Send e-mail to opinion@tribstar.com.
Liz Ciancone
LIZ CIANCONE: Eating and dining can have their own rhythm
- Liz Ciancone
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LIZ CIANCONE: Smell of fresh air gave way to dryers
Remember when clean clothes smelled like fresh air and sunshine rather than fabric softener and dryer sheets?
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LIZ CIANCONE: Courts see a different appearance than cops
Have you ever noticed the transformation between the arrest of an accused lawbreaker and the first appearance in court?
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LIZ CIANCONE: We always want more than we need
Washington seems more preoccupied with the unemployment rate than they are about the constant stalemate. Still with thousands out of work and the unemployment rate hovering somewhere between 7 percent and 9 percent, it does deserve more than a passing nod.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Old age is in email of the beholder
My Best Friend isn’t much for writing letters, so email has opened a new world for him. He can dash off a few words to a high school friend or his college roommate — now living in Florida and Washington State,
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LIZ CIANCONE: A memory test from the oldtime radio days
For some reason, I seem to be the go-to source for all sorts of obscure information out at the Wabash Valley Family Sports Center.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Friskey no doubt was in favor of gun control
I once owned a gun. Actually, it was Dad’s gun and I was allowed to use it. He bought an air gun which shot BB’s to protect our home — in a way.
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LIZ CIANCONE: A robin stops to welcome the spring
I saw a robin the other morning. It was not the first robin of spring, of course. A few of the more daring robins had opted to spend the winter and, although they looked pretty sorry about it on a few occasions, it was a fairly mild winter.
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LIZ CIANCONE: The mystery of the small animal mascot
I hope you won’t think I’m picking on small animals, but I’ve been thinking about Easter and the Easter bunny.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Rising up to defend the poor groundhog
I read in the newspaper the other morning that Punxsatawney Phil is being hauled into court and charged with falsely predicting an early spring. I am volunteering my services as counsel for the defense.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Keeping eye out for signs of spring
The problem with expecting a groundhog to predict the arrival of spring is that there are groundhogs scattered all over the country. The Pennsylvania groundhog may not see the same kind of weather as the groundhog out here in Dobbs Park. In this way, false hopes are roused and the groundhog loses credibility as a meteorologist.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Not every other name smells sweet as a rose
It was either Romeo or Juliet who said, “What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”
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LIZ CIANCONE: Innocence appreciated when you’re growing up
I grew up rather stupid. I didn’t realize it at the time. Neither did my teachers who seemed to think I had “promise.”
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LIZ CIANCONE: Years along rivers make them feel like home
I’ve been following plans for celebrating “The Year of the River” with interest. Rivers have played such a role in my life that I’ve celebrated a good many rivers. The Wabash River is merely the most recent example.
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LIZ CIANCONE: There are always cat stories to be told
I was asked the other day why I write about dogs I have known, but never about cats. “What’s the matter?” they asked, “Don’t you like cats?”
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LIZ CIANCONE: Sharing the family history
My Grandmother lived with us. Ed and I were eager audiences for her family stories about the Cooks. Mom also shared her memories of growing up with three brothers.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Do we want our privacy or not?
We Americans are a strange bunch. We insist upon our right to privacy, yet we neglect few opportunities to parade our personal business in public.
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LIZ CIANCONE: The low humor of Mickey Mantis
I’m told that a pun is the lowest form of humor. I guess that typecasts me! I love them, but then, I like any type of word play.
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LIZ CIANCONE: For now, justice is served in Bball Hall
News this past week brought justice of a sort. The folks who decide these things have declined to pick anyone to be enshrined in the Baseball Hall of Fame this year.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Well, what would you do with only 1 sock?
Let me ask you something.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Movie memories don’t include many of the lengthy variety
There has been lots of reporting lately about how long movies are becoming.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Resist that big ‘let down’ on the day after Christmas
Today is the big day. That makes tomorrow a sort of let down — rather like “What have you done for me lately?”
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LIZ CIANCONE: No thanks to getting mags delivered via the Internet
I am a creature of habit. I like to know what I’m doing and I need to know how to do it. That’s why I am annoyed when corporate America seems determined to drag me, kicking and screaming into the age of Internet.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Everyone has a favorite holiday
I suppose everyone has a favorite holiday. My guess is that, for most of us, that holiday is Christmas. It's a holiday with a miracle no matter how old we get.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Christmas season puts time back into focus
It’s a funny thing about time. It can speed along so that you cannot believe that your kids can possibly be old enough to have good sense, or it can drag its heels while you wait for that first grandchild or while you are saving up for something really special.
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LIZ CIANCONE: The bottom line is what drives ‘Black Friday’ sales
Why is it called "Black Friday"?
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LIZ CIANCONE: Have we lost the meaning of holiday?
I’ve been considering a lost-and-found ad to see if anyone knows what’s happened to Thanksgiving.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Magic is always there with live theater
I’m a pushover for live theater. But movies? Not so much. For me it’s like the difference between canned peas and those picked fresh from the garden. Movies even COME in cans.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Maybe the Cubs will win it all next year
I was relieved to have the World Series ending before the snow flies. Heck, it didn’t even last into November this year.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Holiday decorating better when personal, simple
I fear that I am becoming an old poop!
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LIZ CIANCONE: Surprises from mail worth the extra penny
I understand that the cost of pursuing my hobby will be going up by a penny come the year 2013.
- More Liz Ciancone Headlines
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LIZ CIANCONE: Smell of fresh air gave way to dryers
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Looking for Love? Take the Prague Metro
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