Comfort Food
by Diane Johnson
October 22, 2017
Everyone has comfort foods they remember from their childhood. Mine was grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. About the time I became a mother the health food awareness craze was kicking in. I was on the crest of that wave. I was the first among my friends to have natural childbirth, nurse my baby, and read food labels. Now it’s common as sandals, but, way back then, I was a trend setter.
Later, my kids referred to me as the Food Sheriff. Everything I cooked was whole grain, low fat, no chemicals, only substances in their purest forms crossed my children’s lips. My oldest son, now 44, was six before he had his first Twinkie, at a friend’s house during a sleep over. (He thought it was the greatest.)
When Cliff was just a toddler he hid on the porch under a blanket and ate dog food. I was hanging out clothes, and when I got back on the porch and saw the “tent like” structure over Cliff and the dogs bowl I knew something was up. I pulled up the blanket and there he was polishing off the last of Chica’s food. I was horrified. I read the label, called the Pediatrician, and was told by the nurse that lots of kids have a kibble now and then. No cause for worry.
I had a hard time keeping them out of the dog food. One time Jon told me when he was hungry, or sad, or just tired he’d go down in the basement and have a few kibbles. I’m afraid that may be a statement on the flavor of my extra healthy cookies.
I wonder, what do they think of when people talk of comfort food? I know when they first married, both thought their wives were brilliant cooks. No longing for mom’s home cooking from those boys. Even my grandchildren always ask, “What’s in this Grandma?” before eating anything I give them.