Food
Isn’t it interesting that we never forget a particular food, not because of what it tasted like so much, but because of what happened surrounding the time we were involved eating that food. I have three vivid memories concerning food. Unfortunately, they are negative.
Whenever I see a sheet cake, my mind goes way back to WWII when so many food items were scarce, and we had to use ration stamps in order to purchase certain food. I was probably thirteen years old, and I wanted to make a sheet cake (I can’t remember why) and begged my mother to let me try. She picked a recipe she liked and told me to follow all the directions carefully. I thought I had done as the recipe said, but the cake was a disaster. It did not rise; it tasted terrible and my dad suggested that we throw it out. To this day, I still remember how upset my mother was – not because there would be no cake for dessert that evening, not because of wasted ingredients, but because I had used all the sugar we had. Sugar was extremely scarce at that time and she knew it would be days before she could buy some more. I felt terrible; I had wanted to help. She forgave me and soon forgot about the whole incident, but I still remember how bad I felt. And to this day, I never learned what I had done wrong.
My dad was a primitive camper. Our family had made camp by a lovely stream in Arizona within a couple of hours drive to the Grand Canyon. The Plan: fill a big cast iron pot with water, Navy beans and ham hock; place the pot in a hole layered with charcoal; cover the pots with the special lid my dad had made which means the lid could also hold charcoal; light all the charcoal, tour the Grand Canyon; supper would be done when we returned. Except supper was not done. The beans were hardly soft, the liquid was barely warm. My ten-year-old brother ate some too quickly and became sick. Dad realized he just did not use enough charcoal. I never enjoy ham and beans without thinking of that day.
Our church circle helped serve wedding receptions when they occurred at our church, and I prided myself that I knew how to cut and slice wedding cake into individual servings. The bride of this particular wedding had not chosen someone to cut her cake. So, dressed in a dark blue dress, I stood behind the serving table in our church fellowship hall cutting the cake in a room filled with people enjoying the wedding reception.
To this day, I don’t really know what happened (I think the piece of cake came alive). A large serving of the cake slathered with foaming white frosting “jumped” to my dress just about my waist line and slowly fell to the floor leaving a rich, white, frosting trail down the front of my dress all the way. As I look back I believe I have never been more embarrassed in my entire life either before or since this event. Anyway, I snuck away from the church just as fast as I could, washed the dress and ended up giving it to the Good Will. I knew I couldn’t bear to ever look at that dress again, let alone wear it.
We laugh at events like this, looking back at them, but at the time, it was serious, so serious that we never forget them.