My First Food Memory

It's slightly ironic that my earliest food memories aren't about actually eating food – they're about all the food my parents denied me. I remember watching the kids around me eating Lunchables and the chicken nuggets Evan talked about in his post and being so envious. All I wanted was Elio's pizza and Kraft macaroni and cheese – whatever kids looked so happy eating on TV. I didn't really appreciate the home-cooked meals my parents would come home every day and put together until years later, so it's unfortunate that one of my earliest memories is how much I loathed my father's chinese cooking. On occasion our family would get chinese delivery. Deep fried flaky spring rolls and crispy pan fried noodles smothered in gravy were my favorites. But this was not what my father's chinese cooking tasted like. My father had traveled the world and lived in China when he was younger, so he fancied himself a worldly cook. He used to go to the chinese specialty market in Alton, a few towns from us, and pick up authentic Chinese sauces and ingredients. I used to watch him with his large wok in the kitchen, tossing around crumbled pork and bok choy in black bean sauce, or throwing an egg in to quickly cook in fried rice. I remember begrudgingly sitting down at the table to eat those meals. The flavor was strong with ginger and the salty stick of soy sauce. I would smother my rice in left over packets of duck sauce and try to pick out pieces of pork. I usually left my plate half full and was denied dessert. In retrospect it's strange – I was always a very adventurous eater but it's almost as if my preference for that American-Chinese food influenced my appetite for my father's healthier, more authentic version. To this day, ginger is one of the only foods I won't eat.