Jello in the South Food and family, for me they are inextricably linked. My best memories of food always include my relatives, although I realize that to some outsiders, our culinary traditions may be a little unusual. I am the proud product of two opposing traditions who both feel that through their imaginative dishes, they deserve the right to be the champion of cooking. My father is from Virginia, infamous for their fried, well, fried everything, actually, while my mother is a native New Yorker who believes that healthy and nutritious food is as important as knowing how to hail a cab. Because my dad’s side of the family lives in the south, we only travel to see them once or twice a year. But when we do, they make sure to treat us with their best cuisine. My grandparents may be the most southern people I know. They have very heavy accents, say y’all in every sentence, and they end all conversations by saying “Bye now.” Of course there’s barbeque, bread, and soda at dinner parties, but in the Simmons’ household, there is also green jello. Now you may be thinking “That doesn’t seem to bad. It’s just green colored jello right?” But that is where you’re wrong. This special treat is made by my beloved grandmother, who doesn’t really cook. She does, however, like to mess around with some food. Legend has it that one day …show more content…
All of these objects are from people I love. They are the people who will help me if I’m in trouble, the people I have never had the chance to meet, or people I will never see again. Whenever I look at those items, it brings me back to the times I’ve had with them or stories I’ve heard about them. Whether the memory is hearing my mom talk about her mother’s dinner parties filled with fancy talk and tea or reminiscing about the time I had to eat green jello, I love them
To begin, the food we eat can trigger our thoughts and memories of the times we had with our loved ones. Whether one is smelling burgers at a family barbeque, eating a feast during the holidays, or biting into that hot, homemade cookie, one’s senses are awakened when one smells or taste food, and it brings one back to the fond memories of the times we have family. I will be discussing my personal memories and how I identify with the father in the story,”Chili Cheese Dogs My Father And Me”, by Pat Conroy.
I am an American whose heritage is both Cajun French Catholic and Irish Catholic. American food is just that American, a melting pot of all foods. As far as I can tell, I grew up eating the same or similar foods as most other American families. Except during the time of the Catholic season of prayer and fasting, Lent and while growing up in South Louisiana. During Lent, Catholics deny themselves meat on Fridays, so there is a lot of fish eaten. Lent can be explained in more depth, but no meat of Friday’s is the elementary description concerning food. After my parents got divorced, my dad returned to his home state, Louisiana. I spent most of my life between both parents; One in West Florida and the other in South Louisiana. My mom loved to try new foods, and she always taught me to take an unbiased bite. We would eat everything from Italian, Vietnamese, Chinese, Bar-B-Q, Southern, Spanish, Seafood, hamburger helper, etc. We ate a plethora of many cultural foods and were not confined to one type of cuisine. When I was with my dad, we ate my favorite food-Cajun. The more I was with my Louisiana Family, the more I thrived and fell in love with all things Cajun from Louisiana. The richness of the food was just the beginning. I love the fact that Louisiana is the only state which bolsters Cajun cooking. Every other state has its spaghetti, or bar-b-q or the American melting
I was told from a young age the easiest way to get in touch with your cultural heritage is through food. Many good memories and cultural traditions are passed down via food. Food is a way of connecting people to each other, bringing up good memories from the past. Food has a way of healing old wounds and making people happier. You have a sense of pride knowing you are connected to your culture through the use of food. However there are times when you question your cultural food choices, particularly if you haven’t grown up on certain dishes.
My mother was a simple cook. She prepared foods she'd been raised on, plain Southern fare-rice, gravy, sliced tomatoes, turnip greens, cornpone, grits, eggs, chicken and dumplings, pot roast, ham, field peas, lima beans, potato salad, stewed okra, pumpkin pie, salmon balls. We didn't have fancy casseroles or lasagnas or spaghetti, and nobody had ever heard of a burrito or an egg roll. I didn't know what an artichoke or a parsnip or kiwi or papaya was-certainly had never taste them. We drank sweet iced tea and sometimes lemonade.
He teaches his readers two valuable lessons that he learned through his experience of dumpster diving; take only what you can use, and the short existence of material things. I agree wholeheartedly with these two principles. Spiritual and mental things last for a much longer time than any knick knack ever can. And indeed it is easy to believe that an object holds a sentiment to us, think backwards to what that object first transformed from. A treasure chest, a block of wood, a log, a tree, a small seed. Look at that sentimental object for what it really is and it truly is nothing more than what we make out of it. Yet we still have the sentiments and memories that object supposedly holds. I too believe that there is no reason in holding onto things that we don’t need either. Eighner is trying to explain to us that we shouldn’t place our happiness in such things that clutter our lives and are really just
It is what makes them who they are. Food is part of their traditions. In everything they do it will always feature food. The older women are always the proud cooks who love to cook, and do not mind cooking. Good home meals are the answers to any and every thing in these families. Food solves all kinds of problems as long as it is always good food.
So why might grown-ups harbor affection for a ratty old blanket or well-worn stuffed dog? Part of the reason is probably nostalgia, Hood said, but there seems to be a deep emotional attachment to the objects as well. It's called "essentialism," or the idea that objects are more than just physical properties. When I was younger I used to watch a show called Charlie Brown, where there was a character called Linus. He could always be seen carrying around a ratty old blanket which he would drag everywhere he went.
Thud the car door shuts once we have all of our luggage in the car and then we started our long journey south to Dolphin Island, Alabama.We were not the only car on the trip we were accompanied by our cousins and uncle and aunt, I would say we made about 10 whole stops on the way down from northern Michigan because of the two babies it only takes me and my dad three when I go to Florida to visit them but after the 10 stops and 21 hours of a foul smelling van because my sister got car sick we finally arrived at our beach house that was on twenty foot high stilts.Once we got to the island we unpacked and hung out on the beach for an hour and then went to bed because it was
To me, family is the most important thing in my life. They always encourage me to be the best I can be and nothing more. A quote that I think describes family to me is one by Alex Haley that states, “In every conceivable manner, the family is the link to our past, and bridge to our future.” Through the stories I hear from my mother and grandmother, I have a clear link to my families past and the generation of women that led to me. All the values these women held close to them throughout the years have led to the formation of myself and my values. Over the past three generations, the women in my family have overcome oppression. My mother, growing up in a time where women could never have aspirations to be CEO’s or politicians, somehow came out stronger. She saw what she didn’t want for her future, and jumped at the chance to start a new life in America. No single model of family life characterizes the American family, despite ideological beliefs to the contrary (Andersen). My family couldn’t be labeled an “Italian family” or an “American family.” We are a mix of the two cultures and ideologies, which is what makes us different. I am the first women in my mother’s family to be born and raised in America. My great grandmother had a complete different childhood and adolescence experience than I yet we still have a common cultural base. All her ideals were passed onto my grandmother, than all the down to me, a hundred years in the making to become who I am
My family is who I have socialized most with since they were the first ever people I interacted with. Family has had a large influence over who I am today because they are the people who I learned almost everything from (primary socialization). The reason I have such high morals and values is because of my family. By observing and taking from their behavior I was able to form my own values through nurture. Although they taught me a lot of beneficial things that make me a better person, I have also learned from some of my family members bad habits. My uncle always smoked around the kids, including myself, when I was younger and I never liked the smell and now I associate that memory with cigarettes and it makes me not have any desire to smoke whatsoever. I also had another uncle who went to jail a lot for selling drugs and other related things, and since I definitely did not want to end up in jail I now make smart decisions, and associate myself with people who benefit me. On the whole my family has made me a nobler person by both their good and bad
Family is a continuing topic in my head. I think about my siblings or my parents,this is one of my values in life and why it is such a predominant part of my inner thoughts. I believe family became exclusively important when my older brother passed away. I notice a change in my thoughts since that day. When I was thinking about my older brother who is still alive, the surfer, I believe this had a correlation with my deep desire to build a strong relationship with my siblings.
My family and family history starts like most people’s. Two people fell in love, they had kids, their kids had kids and so on and so forth. But where we come from and who we are, is a completely different story. From our European roots, to the mixing of our blood once my family migrated to America, my family is quite complex but one that I am proud of and love greatly.
My favorite meal is the chicken fettuccini pasta. I chose this dish because I can never stop eating it. The meal is made up of warm tenderized chunks of chicken, delicate smooth creamy white sauce, and many varieties of sliced up vegetables. However, when I was a child vegetables has always been difficult to eat. It prevented me from enjoying my favorite meal because I would always have to take out the mixed vegetables in the meal. As a child I 've tried avoiding vegetables, but was found throughout the school cafeteria 's food, my mother 's cooking, or many fancy restaurants. There was nowhere to run. Over the years, my mother knew I was struggling to eat vegetables. She worked very hard by coming up with her own recipes in order for me to eat healthy. From mixing in the vegetables into the meals I usually eat or to trick me into eating meat but was actually vegetables. Soon later I came to realize how much effort she has put into the meals. All those hour and hard work my mother put it allowed me to enjoy my favorite meal again.
Some of my oldest and fondest memories of my early life are of my Grandparent’s house where I frequently played, loved, and laughed. When my mother remarried we moved about an hour away and I have not been able to see them as often. So on occasions when I get to visit them it was an exciting thing. One of grandmother’s favorite dishes to cook during the cooler months is chili. Everything about this time was special to me, not just because the chili was delicious, but it is a time that my family comes together and enjoys each other’s company. Even the memory of that smell of chili cooking on her stove still makes me think of sweaters, family, warmth and love.
Maybe with some of you, memorable meals will be delicious dishes in nice restaurants that you can immerse in the taste of food. But with me, my dad’s is still the most memorable meal that I have ever had. It was not a good meal, it was not from a famous chef in luxury restaurants. Instead, it was a meal from A father’s love