My Comfort Foods Aren’t Comforting

I was driving in the car today thinking about food. I don’t think about food all the time, but lately, I’ve been wondering why I want to eat the things I do. I was thinking about the idea of comfort food. I gathered that was food that people want to eat to remember the past and feel better. Then I began to wonder what my comfort food was. Not so much exactly what it was, per se, but more why I called it that. I didn’t have a happy childhood. When we had an abundance of casseroles that meant somebody died. We ate spaghetti once a week and Hamburger Helper because we couldn’t afford anything else. Little Debbie was a member of our family because “she” was cheap.

I tend to lean towards carberific food when I want comfort food. But I’m not eating to eat. I’m eating to feel better. That’s not the point of food. Food isn’t supposed to be around to make us feel better about our lives. And let’s say I eat it then…..I don’t eat until I’m full…..I eat until I feel better. That’s not right either. I can eat a box of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese. I add more butter, so I don’t have to worry about the milk part. I do not eat a bowl of cereal; I eat a box of cereal. While I’m eating one bowl, I’m already thinking about the next. As long as the milk holds out, I keep filling the bowl. Do I feel “better” when I’m done? Hell, no! I feel full and uncomfortable. Was that what I was really going for?

When my mother went to the Dr. (she went A LOT) we would get a candy bar from the pharmacy for our troubles. It was a Cadbury Milk Bar. I was partial to the caramel ones. When I go to the Dr. as an adult (seldom), I want a candy bar. Exactly a Cadbury Milk Bar Caramel flavored so I can think about my mother. Was my mother healthy? Nope, we went to the Dr. a lot with her because she had chronic illness, several bouts of almost dying, and she took a crap ton of pills. But I equate this with candy. Does this sound comforting? Not really.

Let’s not even think about birthdays at our house. Our birthdays were almost all so close together that every week we had a new cake for over a month. We couldn’t lump anyone’s birthday together. We all had to have our own cake. Cake came with ice cream and for me, a lot of frosting!

So where does my idea of food and comfort come from then?

My one grandmother used to make homemade macaroni and cheese; my other grandmother preferred Kraft. I want both. I stayed with my homemade macaroni and cheese grandmother when my mother was in the hospital so long we needed to go to school somewhere else for a while. I also stayed with her after I got divorced because my mother died within the same time frame (a week after the divorce) and at that point, I just couldn’t. I couldn’t function, I just had no idea what to do with myself. I was never getting divorced and because I did, my mother was supposed to help me through this. This was not very comforting either. But I did get the opportunity to eat some stale doughnuts (because they were on sale), all of the homemade holiday candy, the onslaught of Easter chocolate, the nut rolls during the holidays, and of course the homemade macaroni & cheese. The only problem with this was that I was an emotional zombie at this time. I went to work and came home. That was the extent of my life for about a year after I was divorced. My grandfather started telling me that I needed to get out of the house. He didn’t even care if I stayed out all night, I just needed to go back to the land of the living because I was creeping everyone out at the house.

Then I took care of my Kraft Macaroni & Cheese grandmother for several years towards the end of her life. We had fun times. We went on a winery tour around Ohio. I paid for the tour for just myself, but she was so damn cute that every winery gave her free stuff. My grandmother was diabetic. My father (her son) wanted her to live her life however she wanted, so one day a week he would take her out and they would eat junk. She would buy candy, ice cream, whatever crap she wanted to eat, and he let her. Does this sound comforting? She always had a stomachache afterward. ALWAYS! My brother and sister-in-law wanted to help, so they bought her sugar-free candy. She ate the WHOLE BAG in one sitting. Ever look at some of the sugar-free candy bags? There’s a warning on there. “Excessive consumption can have a laxative effect.” Yeah, it did. Was that comforting? NO!

So, what is comfort food? I have no idea. I know that I seldom have bread, cereal, pasta, or candy bars in my house. I don’t eat a few and don’t eat til full, so they can’t be around. Will I go out to a restaurant and eat the bread that’s put on the table? Sometimes. Other times I simply say, “No thanks.” and make them take the bread away from the table. I make homemade macaroni and cheese and eat Kraft once in a blue moon now. I still look at the Cadbury Milk Bars in the grocery store, but I simply walk past them instead of telling myself, “I deserve this.”

I know everyone has problems. Most likely the majority of people did not have a happy childhood. I’m not really talking about everyone else here though. Just myself and the idea of comfort food.

I’m not sure what type of food would actually make me happy. I’ve eaten candy bars and noticed that about 5 seconds after I finish it, the taste is already gone out of my mouth. The calories surprisingly are still there, but the taste and memory of the food are already gone. Then I begin to think I got gypped. I think if I’m going to have well over my calorie limit for the day, I should at least get to enjoy it longer.

So, then I’m left with the idea of what is comfort food? I still have no idea.

Memories From Youth

It’s amazing when you are growing up before you get the chance to go to your friends’ houses, what you consider “normal”. It’s all fine ‘til you visit your friends for the first time and realize that they can have an entire room with nothing in it. You ask if they just moved in, and they let you know they grew up in the house. You wonder what anyone reads. Why are there no newspapers strewn about or magazines lying around? Where is the furniture? How does anyone live like this? Then they come to your house, look around, and think the same thing! LOL!

Some of the strongest memories I have from growing up revolve around food. It’s funny because growing up meant cooking for a crowd. When I moved out on my own, I still cooked for the crowd and needed to learn how to drastically cut back the servings. Leftovers got old and abundant. One thing we had often was spaghetti. Often, like once a week. We had pizza once a week as well. Another staple was the good old casserole.

Casseroles were for dinner, to make if anyone was sick, hospitalized, and to take to funerals. You could always tell something was wrong by looking in the fridge and seeing the abundance of casseroles from friends and family. Tuna Noodle Casserole was always a hit along with any type of chicken and rice casserole. My mother was sick a great deal of my childhood so the church choir members would bring over casserole for the family. What made this interesting was that the choir was made up of many people from different nationalities. This meant you weren’t always sure what exactly was in the casserole. All they said was, “Here’s some casserole.”

Another food-centered event growing up was birthdays! Most of our birthdays happened within weeks of each other. Everyone had their own cake; there was no sharing. Some of us had a train cake with the different candy cars, ice cream cakes, fruit-filled cake basically it was a sugarfest for months! It’s been interesting growing up and trying to have a different relationship with food. I mean Little Debbie was practically a member of our family! When I first moved out on my own, I never bought snacks. So no pretzels, chips or anything like that. When family visited, they didn’t know how I could live like that! LOL!

I think back and remember the memories from growing up. I try (some hit some miss) to make the recipes from my youth and remember family members who’ve passed.

The Little Bits They Leave Behind

People come and go from your life every day. You run out and see your friends for lunch, strike up a conversation with a stranger in the grocery store, or meet new friends online. What makes the difference between people is that some, when you stop talking, leave a little bit of themselves behind. Whether it is on your heart or your mind, they are still there. You are reminded of them when you visit a particular place, a smell takes you back, or someone says something exactly the way they used to say it. You catch your breath, feel the sadness of their absence, and the memories begin to flood.

To others, you might seem distant or look lost, but your mind plays vivid memories of them. You run through past conversations, relive happy moments and just remember why you are glad and a better person for having known them. They have touched you, changed you. So you sit and just remember for awhile, and then the time comes when you must come back to the now. Get back to your life, and the reality that they are no longer in it. You can play the what-if game if you want, but just as you know there is a reason they were in it, there is also a reason they no longer are.

You accept this as the way things are sometimes and go back to concentrating on today. That is until the place, smell or saying takes you back again.