How did you have your main meal growing up?

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When I had custody of my granddaughter after her mother died, I had no other kids at home. With my crazy eating habits, at first I would cook her a meal and she would be eating alone. I quickly realized that eating alone is lousy. So even if it was just a cup of chicken broth for me, I made it a point of sitting down with her so she felt like it was family eating time. Whenever I could I would also take her out to eat so that we were both sitting and eating together. :angel:
 
My father was a grumpy alcoholic and my mother worked shift work. She planned the meals well, and when she had to work, somebody either made them or they just needed warming up. We usually tried to eat at the same time at the table, whoever was there. We all started jobs as early as we could so you never know who was going to be home. I ate as fast as I could and got the hell out of there. Which is why I joined every extracurricular activity, sport and artistic endeavor I could. Reason to not be home. In some ways, it wasn't a bad thing....fond memories...:LOL:

My mother and father worked as well and my father also drank to much after work every day. He was mean when he drank.
My mother would encourage me to eat and go out before he got home to lessen the chances of trouble.
There was no special place to eat at our house. Kitchen was to small for a table and there was no dining room. There was a small table in the corner of the living room and thats where i ate.

Today we eat watching TV. I have a TV tray and so does my wife.
My MIL sits at the table. We are all together as our dining room overlooks the living room.
We rarely use the dining room table. Only for holidays or when someone comes over for dinner.
 
We'd have dinner at the kitchen table when Dad got home from work. While he didn't drink then, he did have a very bad temper, and it made him mad that I was a picky eater. Dinner could be stressful. I too got involved in as many extracurriculars and after-school jobs as soon as I could.

Sundays were dinner at Grandma's, much more relaxing.
 
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I ate most everything without a fuss. However, as a child, butternut squash was enough to make me gag - literally. I could not get it down. As an adult, I love it. Dad mad me sit at the table until I finished. Sometimes mom would take pity and clear my plate after dad left for his chair in front of the TV.
 
My dad was irritated that I was a picky eater, too. One evening he had enough and force fed me a bite of an artichoke heart - one of my fave foods to this day. I thought it "looked weird" and wasn't about to try it. :LOL: I don't agree with his method, but it worked and I ended up willingly at least trying, and liking, many foods from then on.

Usually Mom did all the cooking, but on Friday nights, my dad made us a Mexican feast. It was us kids' favorite night of the week, partly because we loved Mexican food, and partly because it was just "different" to see Dad slaving away in the kitchen while Mom relaxed. He never did clean up, though. :LOL:

My first year in high school, Mom went back to work. That's when I started playing around in the kitchen, and having dinner ready for them when they got home from work. Not every night, but at least some. Dinner still had to be at 6 sharp, even if it was ready earlier. :)
 
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Hopefully parenting styles have changed since then. Nothing like facing a plate of cold, congealed sludge of which you were forced to sit there until you ate it, to make you love it later in life! Thankfully, I'm no longer a picky eater.

By the time my brother came along, my parents had lightened up. He hated vegetables, so he was allowed to dip a carrot in ketchup as his veggie. Now he loves, and eats everything as well.
 
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Bucky, we say grace at home and at restaurants as well. Both our families were like that and we have carried it on.

There was another very strict rule when I was growing up. If you didn't like something (for me it was pork chops before shake and bake) you had to have 5 bites of it and my Mom cut the bites. For my sister it was peas and Mom determined that 5 was a bite so she had to eat 25 peas! :ROFLMAO:

Funny, my mom's rule was three bites! There were no separate adult/children meals, and we ate what Mom made. I have three younger sisters, and as we got to a certain age, we picked up certain food-related chores, starting with setting the flatware (not break-able!) and on to setting plates & glasses, then to washing, drying, putting away. I was the only one who really liked to cook, so I did a fair amount of food prep, leading up to doing a lot of full meals for periods of time when Mom was having serious health problems. It was a "chore" I didn't mind (the dishes was another story). We ate pretty much at the same time every day, after Dad got home, changed out of his uniform, cleaned up, and he & Mom had a drink. Often had company, often had our girlfriends over. Saying "yuck" wasn't allowed at the table, period, and basic table manners were observed. On Sundays (except in the summer) we stayed dressed in our church clothes, and used China and crystal, and had to use a little more formal table manners. We got cream soda in champagne glasses (until old enough for a bit of wine).
 
I'm sometimes surprised I survived childhood. Don't get me wrong; my mom was a wonderful person, but not a very good cook. She knew it, too, and would often joke about it. More often than not, dinner began with the phrase, "C'mon boys. Get in the car," and we would head off to some restaurant, usually one of the two diners in town. Dad was a travelling salesman (no joke) and was not home much during the week. He was pretty good with a grill, so we had steaks or burgers on the weekend when he was home.

My mom could put together a meal from a can or a box. We had a lot of mac & cheese and hamburger helper kind of meals growing up. She could also make a decent pot roast with canned soup. We didn't eat a lot of vegetables, because my brother was very picky and the only two vegetables he would eat were corn or green beans, and then only from a can. I don't remember mom ever using fresh vegetables, unless you count a head of iceberg lettuce.

So I kind of looked forward to the restaurant dinners, because I could order whatever vegetables were on the menu. :angel:

When I was about 10-ish, I expressed an interest in learning to cook. So mom bought me a copy of the "Joy of Cooking." We would plan it out so I would occasionally make something under her supervision. By the time I was 13, I was not only cooking meals unsupervised at home about 3 nights a week, but also responsible for putting together the grocery list. Some of my meal plans were vetoed ("Spinach Souffle?... try again," dad said). My younger brother also cooked. In fact he ended up cooking for a living for about 25 years.

The one thing I will say is that, even though dad wasn't always there and we ate out often, we still ate together as a family. Us kids were expected to be home by 5:30 sharp every night for a 6:00 meal. Despite everything, I actually have a lot of good childhood memories of dinner time.
 
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The six of us (parents and 4 kids) always ate dinner (or tea as we called it) together at about 6pm every day in the dining room. The food was basic - for two reasons - one, my tyrannical father would only eat the most bland, boring food imaginable, and two, my lovely mum had no interest in cooking!

There was no TV and if my mum had her way there would have been no talking either! However, you can't really keep 4 kids from chatting and by the time we were in our teens it was actually pretty nice the way everyone would discuss what sort of day they had had and talk about the weather and the news or whatever else came up. We were absolutely not allowed to swear, but all opinions were listened to and debated. Looking back, it was pretty cool but we didn't really appreciate it at the time.

None of us was made to eat food we didn't like and we don't have any major food hangups now I am pleased to say. :yum:
 
I'm sometimes surprised I survived childhood. Don't get me wrong; my mom was a wonderful person, but not a very good cook. She knew it, too, and would often joke about it. More often than not, dinner began with the phrase, "C'mon boys. Get in the car," and we would head off to some restaurant, usually one of the two diners in town. Dad was a travelling salesman (no joke) and was not home much during the week. He was pretty good with a grill, so we had steaks or burgers on the weekend when he was home.

My mom could put together a meal from a can or a box. We had a lot of mac & cheese and hamburger helper kind of meals growing up. She could also make a decent pot roast with canned soup. We didn't eat a lot of vegetables, because my brother was very picky and the only two vegetables he would eat were corn or green beans, and then only from a can. I don't remember mom ever using fresh vegetables, unless you count a head of iceberg lettuce.

So I kind of looked forward to the restaurant dinners, because I could order whatever vegetables were on the menu. :angel:

When I was about 10-ish, I expressed an interest in learning to cook. So mom bought me a copy of the "Joy of Cooking." We would plan it out so I would occasionally make something under her supervision. By the time I was 13, I was not only cooking meals unsupervised at home about 3 nights a week, but also responsible for putting together the grocery list. Some of my meal plans were vetoed ("Spinach Souffle?... try again," dad said). My younger brother also cooked. In fact he ended up cooking for a living for about 25 years.

The one thing I will say is that, even though dad wasn't always there and we ate out often, we still ate together as a family. Us kids were expected to be home by 5:30 sharp every night for a 6:00 meal. Despite everything, I actually have a lot of good childhood memories of dinner time.
Are you sure your mom and mine weren't twins separated at birth? Instead of loading us in the car, she'd open a box of that KD that came with a can of cheese sauce, make that and add tuna and canned tomatoes. I hate that combination to this day. My mom was in heaven when they owned the restaurant. We could order whatever we wanted--Anne and Caroline were much better cooks than either of our parents.

There were periods, however, when my mom seemed to enjoy cooking--she took a Chinese cooking class after a trip to SF so our weekly menu rotation included stir fries. I think, in part, my mom was just tired all the time (she had a mitral valve defect--fixed in 1997) and my dad was one of those picky eaters--things had to be prepared the same way each time and the meals had to be the same every week--kinda like "daily special" meals in a restaurant. I think he liked having the restaurant because he could dictate what the daily special was and not be surprised. My mom liked it because she didn't have to cook. We liked it because we could order whatever we wanted...prime rib was one of my favorites, as were shrimp.

Now that he has to do all the meal prep/cooking, he is not nearly as picky. My mom is the picky one--I don't like tuna. I don't like meatloaf. I don't want pork chops. Sometimes, I wonder if she says those things just to get under his skin.

For those who have a partner who doesn't know his/her way around the kitchen, I'd suggest baby steps to get that person in the kitchen--a hand's on cooking seminar, a couples cooking course, something fun. You never know what the future holds and knowing how to make decent food not only is more nutritious, but it also can save a lot of money.
 
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My mom did a majority of the cooking, but if she was under the weather or couldn't do dinner for some reason, then dad would do it. There was always a joke, anything that dad cooked was cooked in a cast iron frying pan. He'd take out the cast iron frying pan, I'd ask "what's for supper", he'd say "i'm not sure yet", :LOL:

He made a great turkey and dumpling soup with the leftover turkey carcass. Family would just show up the day after Thanksgiving, because they knew there would be soup!
 
I remember twice my Dad took a bite of a meal, pushed it away and said to us, "You don't have to eat that." Both times it was a Mom experiment and we ended up going out to dinner. We did have to at least have one bite of things that were known we didn't like. Also, not allowed to dis the meal at all.
 
Are you sure your mom and mine weren't twins separated at birth? Instead of loading us in the car, she'd open a box of that KD that came with a can of cheese sauce, make that and add tuna and canned tomatoes. I hate that combination to this day...

Canned tuna... ick. Yeah, we had "tuna surprise" sometimes. Mom would try to doctor things up. Her favorite ingredients to add to boxed Mac & Cheese were sliced up hot dogs and green beans. :blink:

I should probably mention that my mom hated to cook. She was a devout feminist and the first woman in her family to graduate from college. Even though she always had a full time job, the times we lived in demanded that women cook and take care of the house. That really bugged her.

There were two meals I can recall that were complete disasters. Dad, who loved to hunt, would occasionally bring home wild game. Before he got into sales, he spent a number of years as a butcher and knew his way around meat. One weekend he bagged a few squirrels and brought them home. I remember he was so proud of how nicely he had field dressed those squirrels and had a grin from ear to ear as he set them on the counter. Mom just looked at him and said, "I am NOT cooking rats." That really knocked the wind out of his sails.

So dad tried to make squirrel stew. I don't know what all he put in it, but it was the worst thing I had ever eaten. I know there was beer in it because that was all you could taste. Well, that and tough, little stringy bits of meat. It was one of those things that could make anyone turn vegetarian. Fortunately, most of it was thrown out, and squirrel never again found its way into the kitchen.

The other disaster was mini pizzas. It was an impromptu dish that mom whipped together one night when she was trying to get dinner on quickly. She took English muffins, sliced them in half, and topped each half with ketchup, weiners (again with the weiners!), and a slice of Kraft cheese. It was a meal I'll always remember, but not in a good way.
 
On weeknights, my sister and I ate at the kitchen table and my parents ate in the family room. Kitchen and family room were separated by a four foot high wall. The TV was always on.

Weekends, we were allowed to sit in the family room and eat off TV trays. My mum did all the cooking, except weekend grilling. Sundays, all summer, my dad made rotisserie chicken on the charcoal grill or sometimes steak. For those meals, the whole family ate at the picnic table on the patio.

We weren't fussy eaters. The only things, that my mum served, that I didn't like were peas out of a can, liver, and fried onions (I thought they were too sweet). My mum switched to fresh or frozen peas, gave me small servings of liver, and happily ate my serving of fried onions. There was always fruit, usually from a can, for dessert.

Strict rules when we were at someone else's house. We weren't allowed to say the food was yucky or make faces. We had to try a small serving of everything. If we put it on our plates, we had to finish what we put on the plate. In restos we had to try everything on our plate, but didn't have to finish anything. The exception to that was when we went to a buffet. If we wanted to try something, it was okay to put a small amount on our plates and not finish it if we didn't like it. But if we took seconds or put a large amount on our plate, we had to finish it.

I remember once visiting some of my parents' friends and forcing down some glazed ham (too sweet) and marshmallow coated sweet potatoes, with a smile. I thought both were really awful.

Holidays, and when there was company, we ate at the dining table.
 
you know, i called my parents tonight and told them i loved them after reading these stories.

i consider myself lucky. neither of my parents had any agendas beyond raising their children to the best of their ability. that included learning how to cook. if you intelligently care about the health of your children, it's what you do.

they did what was best for us at all times without ever a thought of what was "right" for them.

i remember shortly after my son was born how it struck me what a selfish life that i'd lived up to that point.
 
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Good for you bucky! Now whenever I want to thank my Mom and Dad for teaching me what they did (Mom=cooking and cleaning...only one "stuck"; Dad plumbing and pulling electrical wires...can still do either if pressed into service) I have to look heaven-ward. In spite of where they claimed they'd end up, I know they were darned good people. :wub:
 
I've so enjoyed reading about everyone's stories and memories of the family dinner table! So glad this prompted you to call your folks, bucky, and tell them you love them. I sure wish I could do the same with my mom and dad. :angel: I've carried so many of their traditions with me over the years, and they knew that. Maybe changed up a little here and there, but the basic traditions stay the same. I feel lucky too, my childhood is filled with (mostly) good memories. They did the best they could and insisted upon good dining table manners with us young 'uns.

The more I read here, the more memories come to mind. I remember when my dad decided we needed a fondue pot. :LOL: (it was the late 60's - early 70's after all, lol). For a few years after that we had 'fondue night' weekly, in addition to our Mexican Friday night. :)
 
Would love to be able to call my parents too! They did the best they could with what they had. Thankfully, forcefeeding children is no longer recommended.
 
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I can still thank my parents and do so often. They too, did the best they could with what they had.
 

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