Heininge Rhymes with Dining: Family Posts

Showing posts with label Family Posts. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Do you strave easily? I do.

Hawaii 1964: Liane (9), Lisa (4), Mom, Melanie (11)

Anyone who knew my mom (aka Grandma Lavon) was aware of her obsession with reading. The house could be burning down, but Mom would be engrossed in her mystery novel as the firemen carried her out. I'll never forget the day I told her I was leaving home for good and never coming back. She barely looked up from her book and said, "That's nice, dear." Of course the next day she freaked out but I was already gone.

I have in my possession a note that my little sister gave my mom in Japan in 1968, when she was 8 years old. Apparently Lisa had been begging Mom to put down her book and make dinner, but Mom kept saying, "In a minute! I'm at a really good part." In desperation, Lisa wrote this note:

Dear Mrs. Mama,

Will you please cook dinner?

I'm straving, and I strave easily.

Love,

Lisa

Mom says she cracked up when she got the note and got up to make dinner.

Now whenever someone in our family is very hungry (which is often), they let it be known that they are “straving”. (Direct translation: "Get cookin', Ma!")

Saturday, December 20, 2008

No More Special Food

Living in Asian countries for many years, we naturally developed a taste for spicy food. (Mutton masala in India, kimchi in Korea, etc. Mmmmm.) Upon settling in Oregon, I started experimenting with spices more and more and I must say, I began turning out some great meals. The older kids appreciated my exotic style but the little kids didn't like it and preferred bland food. BOR-RING. Whenever I cooked a spicy curry or a tasty new Asian dish, I prepared a little Mac & Cheese side dish for the little guys. Many times I’d be all inspired about my new spicy dish as I was setting it on the table and suddenly remember, “Crap! Mac & Cheese!” I’d have to hurry and whip up a batch on the stove real quick while everyone waited. It was a real drag.

One day I decided I'd had enough. I sat Daniel and Rachel down and said, "Listen up. The baby gazelle has to run with the herd within one hour of birth, or it will be eaten by the lions." They looked at me with big eyes and I continued: "From now on, no more special food. You run with the herd."

So that was the end of “special food”. If someone didn't like the dinner I'd prepared, I'd say, "Great! Now there's more for the rest of us!" and they could make their own PBJ. Funny thing is, both Dan and Rae started eating my spicy dishes and now that they are teenagers they love spicy food.

The moral of the story? You must run with the herd.

And just say NO to Special Food.