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Old 01-14-2012, 01:54 PM   #11
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Tourtiere after the adults went to midnight mass Christmas Eve. Mom & Dad, Aunts & Uncles would bring out all the presents from Santa (presents from each other and parents were already under the tree), then grab a set of bells (I still have the bells) and start jingling them and go, "You just missed him! Santa just left!" We'd then open gifts and all would repose to a tourtiere and beets meal at 3 or so a.m. Daddy would pick up his accordion and we'd nosh while he played Christmas carols and we'd all sing. Bed time came around 5 a.m., and very few actually saw the light of Christmas morning.

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Old 01-14-2012, 02:26 PM   #12
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Thanks Claire! Your camping story brought one back for me. One that started a family "tradition."

We used to go on camping trips that lasted two to three weeks. No toilets, tubs or showers, just the creek, river or lake where we parked the car.

Dad had finally picked our spot and we had been gathering firewood while he dug the firepit. He was hot, sweaty and had a nice film of dirt covering him when he asked Mom to open a can of root beer for him.

Now, the root beer had been in a box in the back of the car, absorbing every bump and dip in the road, it was also warm...

Mom got within one foot of Dad before she opened the can, aimed directly at him. Dad got a root beer shower on our first day out. He swears he was still cleaning off root beer when we got home. Three squealing girls laughing and Mom running around with paper towels saying, "I'm so (LMAO) SORRY!" To this day I'm not sure Mom didn't add a couple of shakes to that can before she opened it.

Since then, when Dad asks for a root beer we ask him if he wants it "shaken, not strirred." We also tend to aim soda cans towards him when opening them...dang, hasn't happened since.

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Old 01-18-2012, 05:20 AM   #13
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An odd one. I remember, when I was about 11 or 12, being taken to a Chinese restaurant in the Wiesbaden area. I remember walking around to a back area, up stairs, and really having a great meal.

Another, still living in Wiesbaden, I remember going out into the country and going to the Casa Carioca. It was a dinner club with an ice show. There was a parquet wooden floor that rolled out over the ice for patrons to dance, then rolled back for the ice show. I remember this particularly because Daddy ordered a huge cheese platter for dinner. I think we were staying at a military hotel in Garmisch or thereabouts.

What made these memories even more fun is that many decades later I wound up working with a man who was also an Air Force brat. He told me the Casa Carioca burned down years ago, but that, at that time, that little Chinese restaurant was still there.

Small world.
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Old 01-19-2012, 04:34 PM   #14
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For me it was opening a can of moms anchovies, it must have been an expensive one cause she got PISSED, she made me eat them till I ralphed, to this day I won't eat them, even for money
Just because someone tells you that you can't do something doesn't mean you have to listen.
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Old 01-19-2012, 06:10 PM   #15
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My favorite food memory is going into Grandma and Grandpa's basement to get blueberries out of the huge chest freezer filled with all kinds of fruits and veggies. There was another freezer just as big full of meat. I would bring the freezer bag full of berries up stairs and we would have frozen blueberries with milk. It would freeze the milk and then after a few minutes and a good stir it would turn the milk blue. Even when I grew up and came back to see my grandparents, Grandpa would say, "Go get us some blueberries!". I still eat them the same way, but sure do miss having Grandpa and Grandma around to share them with me.
No matter where I serve my guests, it seems they like my kitchen best!
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Old 01-19-2012, 07:16 PM   #16
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I remember once, my sister and I wouldn't finish our oatmeal. I have no idea why, we liked oatmeal with brown sugar. My mother told us we would get it for lunch, fried, if we didn't finish it.

Fried oatmeal is not very nice.

Maybe kids just need to have a bit of control over their food sometimes.
May you live as long as you wish and love as long as you live.
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Old 01-21-2012, 05:41 AM   #17
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Childhood bad food memories? My mom insisted one time that I mossie (?) up my soft egg yolks left on my plate with my toast. I got insistent and slammed my elbows on the table it a fit of pique. Broke the plate, elbow on fork, slice on elbow, emergency room stitches. I still have a scar on that elbow. I was 5 or so years old. The thing that makes it ironic is that I was the very least fussy eater in the house. Even when I didn't like something, I ate it. My sister was the fussy eater, she didn't like anything. Mom and I agree to this day that I was just tired of little sis getting all the attention at meal time.
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Old 01-21-2012, 05:45 AM   #18
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Got to follow a bad with a good. On our birthdays, when affordable (a sergeant with 4 daughters, affordable is the name of the game) we got to name a meal. Mine was usually suki-yaki and jello cake. I do remember one sibling's was fondue. Don't remember if the two youngest had a specific love (although I think we always all chose jello-cake).
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Old 01-21-2012, 05:59 AM   #19
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At one assignment my dad had to teach survival instruction. He'd be gone from Saturday through Thursday. He'd come home on Thursday, Mom had to hose him down. Thursday happened to be the day that my sis and I went to CCD classes and mass after. Daddy would show up for mass, and sit in the back of the chapel, along with the other men who were Catholic and had been out in the boonies from Saturday through Thursday. Often us children had to wake our exhausted daddies up to take us home. But dinner that Thursday was, for us, always New England Boiled Dinner. Made with beef marrow bones. I loved that. Neither of my parents had a sweet tooth, but Daddy would eat anything when he came back from the mountains, so Mom, who didn't much like baking, would have a cake, some cupcakes, cookies. Dad was ravenous and would eat anything. Then on Friday, parents would go out dancing, and our Friday meal if they did might be fish sticks or chicken pot pies and french fries. But we often got what would normally have been a Sunday meal on Friday or early dinner Saturday, because Dad was back off to the mountains again Saturday night. This was only a year or so, but I remember it vividly. One thing was funny. Whenhe'd go out for longer maneuvers, he had to take a box of food to eat in the truck on the way home. They were told it had to be smaller than a square foot. My dad was (and is) very thin and always hungry. He asked interior or exterior dimensions. All the other men just used a shoe box. Daddy made a little food square, interior, crate. Mom would really pack it with food. I remember Daddy saying that he'd be in the back of that deuce and a half, eating, when all the other men were finished with their shoe box and be looking longingly at his box of food. And, I might add, Daddy is a slow eater to this day. Lingers long over every delicious morsel. I can imagine it would drive the other men crazy. And I doubt he shared much!

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