I recently was involved in a conversation with a friend about what my favorite and least favorite foods were when I was a child. I realized that not much has changed, which slightly concerns me.
I LOVE macaroni and cheese. It was one of the first “meals” that I was able to make for myself when my mother decided I wouldn’t burn the house down. To this day, it’s the only meal I make for myself consistently. I know, I know, it’s riddled with artificial flavors and preservatives, and I should know better, but I don’t really care. I’m not a huge fan of the pretentious restaurant macaroni and cheese made with real aged cheddar, Gouda, and other fancy cheeses. I don’t like the organic, all natural boxed mac and cheeses out there either. I find them bland in taste and boring in color. Gimme that MSG and bright orange food coloring! From time to time, I stray from Mr. Kraft and I spend some time with
Velveeta. When I was younger, my mom used to make Velveeta macaroni and cheese for my brothers and I and we LOVED IT. LOVED IT! If she was feeling especially loving, she’d put ham in it too! She made it for us because it wasn’t time consuming, and it was something we all could agree on. I’ve made Velveeta mac and cheese a few times myself as an adult, but it never tastes as good as my mom’s. Now that I think of it, I’m not sure how happy my mom will be when she reads this and finds out that I like her 20 minute meal more than her intricate lasagna and seafood dishes.
And that bring us to my least favorite meal of hers: chicken cacciatore. When my mom would announce that we were having chicken cacciatore for dinner, I would become enraged. It’s not the sauce that bothered me the most, it was that when she made this meal she would use chicken thighs, legs, wings, and breasts. My mom and dad, being the all powerful adults would get the chicken breasts and my brothers and I were left dealing with skin and fat. I still have a phobia of fat on meat. I’d rather be stuck in a hell where I had to run laps on a track in 4 inch heels for eternity than take a bite of chicken, beef, or pork fat. This is not an exaggeration. It’s not that my mom’s meal tasted poorly, I just couldn’t get past having to work to get to the meat. Long story short, I’m a spoiled brat and I hated this meal as a kid because I didn’t approve of the cut of meat my mother served me, and once again, I’m somewhat concerned with myself because not much has changed, except if I refuse to eat a meal now, I won’t be put in the corner, and I won’t have to eat it for breakfast the next day.
What was your favorite and least favorite meal made for you as a kid? Do you still like/dislike the same foods?
- Post by Amanda
photo courtesy of
The Torontoist