PHOTO: Mary van Balen
Some days when life seems overwhelming, I am drawn to the bane of healthy eating and common sense: Comfort Food! We all have this unique food group that spans those recommended by nutrition czars who devise pyramids and pie charts to keep us on the straight and narrow.
One of my all time favorites is grilled cheese with bread & butter pickles. Grilled cheese sandwiches come in many varieties. Last week, while staying with a family in Delaware, I was treated to a delicious, homemade grilled cheese with Mozzarella, pesto, and sun-dried tomatoes on generous slices of multi-grain bread. Delicious and packed with lots of healthy ingredients, it kept me going until my arrival back home.
My comfort food grilled-cheese boasts only of white bread and, yes, American cheese. (Is that phrase an oxymoron? I mean is “American Cheese” cheese at all?) The secret ingredient that makes my grilled cheese special is, as in all comfort food, memories.
My mother used to make these sandwiches in a griddle that smooshed the margarine slathered soft white bread until melted American cheese began to ooze out around the edges. The elementary school I attended was four or five blocks from home, so I often walked home from school for lunch, and grilled cheese was a favorite. I did not like school, and an hour at home was a welcome break. Growing up Catholic gave our family weekly opportunities for meatless meals and grilled cheese along with a bowl of tomato soup was often on the menu.
I don’t use the griddle or margarine for my sandwiches, but every bite takes me back to the kitchen of my childhood where mom and my grandmother, Becky, fixed meals, and baked cookies, pies, and cakes. They taught us how to mix flaky pie crusts (which mom insisted was one of the easiest things to make), cutout cookies, and anything else we wanted to learn.
I have other comfort food favorites: Buttered toast and tea when I am hungry before going to bed, chicken noodle soup and saltine crackers when I am recuperating from the flu, and sliced tomatoes sprinkled with sugar. No matter how I try to reduce my consumption of red meat, a regal rump roast with mashed potatoes and gravy remains a treat. I loved sopping up the drippings left on the meat platter with white bread.
Whatever the food, calories, or cholesterol, the most important nutrient delivered by comfort food is the love and the people who wrapped me in it. It is the smile of my mother, her hugs, and her cool hand on my fevered forehead. It is my grandmother sitting with me late at night when I was sick, telling me stories of growing up. It is the family gathered around the dinner table, sharing a chip-chopped ham sandwich with my father.
When I eat comfort food, I don’t count calories; I savor memories.
© 2010 Mary van Balen
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