Food Memoir

Best Served with Company

            For many college students, the idea of fending for themselves in terms of food can be problematic. For me, it is already something I came to terms with. I had firsthand experience at the beginning of my senior year of high school because I moved out of my parents’ house when I was seventeen and at the time I had been working at McDonalds for almost two years. It was not an easy task to learn how to be comfortable and confident with the decision to live on my own, especially when it came down to not having enough money on a minimum wage salary. When it came to balancing work and school it got a little messy, but the biggest mess of all was the fight between bills and food. Luckily, I lived in a small town where most people shared my struggles. I had amazing neighbors and friends, they taught me that what I needed most of all was company. They had perfect timing and would always ask me to come over for dinner when I didn’t have food to put on the table; sometimes they just knew. They weren’t much better off than I was, but they figured that they had enough to share, and for that I was always grateful for the dinners we shared. A lot of freshmen in college struggle with weight gain and proper eating; I don’t share those struggles anymore.  I learned, some might say the hard way, that it isn’t what you eat, but who you eat with.  Living alone isn’t all that it cracked up to be, eating alone is worse. Company makes food worth eating.

            The night I moved out, I didn’t eat dinner. I wanted comfort food, but I couldn’t think of anything that would put my queasy stomach at ease. I was depressed and I had already missed my mother’s cooking, but I was too stubborn to call her and tell her that I wanted a bowl of Jambalaya and cornbread. I didn’t eat much until I had finished unpacking and bought utensil. I bought a few small pots and pans and plastic forks and spoons and knifes and other basic kitchen items. The first dinner I had at my house, by myself I might add, was macaroni and cheese and fish sticks. Cheap and easy was my first choice of direction. Money was tight, and I didn’t have enough time to cook a proper meal anyway. I either needed to get ready to walk to work or finish my homework. After a great deal of weight gain and loss of energy, I figured it was time to change my course of action. I still went fairly cheap, but I decided to put a little more effort into my cooking. Vegetables were going to be a must have at dinner and, when money wasn’t so non-existent, meat. I wanted actual protein and I wanted to nip this weight gain problem in the bud. This is how figured out that I hated pork.  I wasn’t a huge fan of bacon anyway, but after forcing myself to swallow my own monstrosity of burnt and awfully seasoned bacon and scrambled eggs and then later have it come back up, let’s just say that I never looked at bacon the same way again. I decided to start making my favorites and I actually enjoyed them again. One of my favorites from my childhood was mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, and roast beef. Of course the version I made compared to my mother’s wasn’t that great, mostly because mashed potatoes were instant and powdery, the corn was frozen, and the roast beef needed to be microwaved, but it was a step away from Spaghetti O’s, macaroni and cheese, and chicken noodle soup that I was living off of. 

Some days I decided to treat myself to more luxurious groceries, like the one time I bought steak and forgot the fact that I didn’t own a grill. So, I learned how to sear steak in a pan, and it wasn’t that bad. The inside was a little rarer than I like, and the outside was black and charred, but I am not going to complain on my first-world problem of burnt steak. If I spent too much on the groceries early in the month, or my bills were on the higher side, I would have to except that fact that dinner wasn’t going to be served, at least not at my house.  Then I officially met my neighbors. There was a two story house at the end of the street, and this is where my dearest friend, Staci, lived. Staci and I had been friends since the 7^th grade and when she caught word of my predicament she introduced me to her parents. Her parents, Sue Sue and Johnny, were the friendliest people I had ever met. Her mom had a soft spot for home cooking, and her dad was a prankster. They had this special ability to know when I needed a good home cooked meal and a laugh. I often felt like I needed the laugh and the company more than the nutritional value of the food. Sue Sue cooked amazing southern comfort food, but she was more comfortable than her food. She made the best pot roast and had the best hugs. After I moved out I figured out that living alone isn’t as great as it seemed. Along with Sue Sue’s cooking, she loved being a mother and she took me in as her own child. She felt more like a mom, than my mom ever did. Which made it really hard and awkward the when I did see my mother again.

The first time I saw my biological mom in person again, it was Thanksgiving. I was forcefully invited to attend, mostly because the rest of the family didn’t have knowledge of my departure. It was a very tense and quiet dinner. The food was the same as usual, but it wasn’t as comforting as it used to be. The warm conversation wasn’t buzzing around the table like it use to and everything tasted bland and cold.  Everyone could feel the tension between my mom and me. I could almost hear the judgment from everyone across the table as they stared at me over the turkey. It was a long and tense day and I had to stay in my old room that night to keep up the façade. My bed had never felt more uninviting that night than any other time, I wanted to leave and go to my own place of solitude immediately. I have never felt so alone, than at my parents’ house filled with my own family. I lived alone and being there felt more lonely. Being alone in a room full of people is an out of body experience. This is one of the worst meals I had ever had.

The best meal that was served in my house was my family’s recipe for Jambalaya. This recipe makes enough to feed an army, so I invited friends and coworkers and told everyone to bring a specific thing, like a lemon, or some vegetables, or sausage. That way everyone contributed, making it a little cheaper on everyone. This was a “bring your own bowl” event, also making the dishes a little easier on me. Everyone enjoyed the food, but I think everyone enjoyed the company even more. A lesson that I learned from these memories is that it isn’t the food as much as whom you are eating it with. Great company makes any food taste sweeter. Any meal can be special, if you are eating with someone special. In college, I plan on eating well and eating with people I love. Even on nights when I am stuck eating ramen noodles for a week, as long as I am eating with friends everything will taste better and fill me up. No one should have to eat alone. I shall never go hungry as long as I have friends to eat with.