SE1: Personal Significance of Food

The significance of food, for me, can best be traced through a timeline of growing up. Certain foods are strongly associated with certain parts of my life, and for the most part, my food memories have strong ties to my family, and what was going on in our lives at that point. Whether it be my earliest memories in my old house, or my recent memories in the dorms, some foods will always bring me back to the time and the place in which they developed a strong meaning to me.

            Grape soda, watermelon, and raspberries. These are the foods that I associate with my early childhood home. It was a modest but charming house in a quiet neighborhood. Things were much different for my family back then, with my mom staying at home with myself and my brother and my dad working in the field as a land surveyor. My dad stopped on his way home from work almost daily and bought a soda, usually grape, at a 25 cent vending machine that’s now long gone. He would get home and I would ask for a drink of his soda- and every day I would finish the little bit left in the can when he handed it to me, give it back, and laugh hysterically as he feigned attempting to drink it and being shocked that all that was left was ‘air soda.’ This time of my life exists in my mind as an endless summer, of sorts. We were a very young family, my brother a toddler, and my parents still finding their feet. But the days spent out in the backyard were some of the best I can remember. My mom would cut up a watermelon and place slices of it in a big yellow bowl on the table on the back porch. As I played outside, exploring in the garden, climbing the apple tree, or playing on the swingset, I periodically ran to the bowl to eat another slice of melon, becoming a sticky mess by the end of the day. Sometimes, I went across the street to an elderly neighbor’s house. My family was very close with her, and I spent lots of time wandering around her backyard, an extensive property which to a young child felt like Wonderland. She had a massive raspberry patch in which I would spend hours with a bowl picking the reddest, juiciest ones, triumphantly bringing them back into the house. My neighbor suggested we wash them and I take them back across the street for my family- but there were rarely any left once it came time to go home. My fondness for raspberries persists to this day, and there’s no doubt in my mind that the happy memories tied with them are part of the reason why.

            The next phase of my life is represented by spaghetti, tacos, and burgers. As I got older, life evolved for myself and my family in many ways. We moved into my second home, the one I lived in from middle school until I left for college. My mom went back to school for her masters degree and then back to full time work, and my dad started his own business, working hard and long hours to make it a success. With myself and my brother both being-school age, parents at work, and all with a packed schedule, we fell into a fairly predictable pattern of food. Meals that are easy to throw together after work were our staples. My parents’ favorite, tacos, my favorite, spaghetti, and my brother’s favorite, burgers, were prepared at least once a week. Although these meals sound mundane, I didn’t mind. Dinner was one of the few times my busy family got to be together, and these meals will always be reminiscent of sitting around the table catching up on our days. To this day, no spaghetti compares to my mom’s, and no cheeseburger will ever taste quite as good as the ones my dad grilled on the barbecue. The family dinner table is a value that I know I will have with my own family, when that day comes.

            Now, living in the dorms, the food I eat is an eclectic mixture of Sodexo dining hall food, meals that I make for myself in my kitchen, or the occasional Chipotle or Snarf’s. Someday, when I look back at my days at DU, I’m sure there will be foods that remind me of my college years, but for now, what those things are remains to be seen. My favorite foods from earlier in life haven’t necessarily gone away, either. I buy myself raspberries at the store and promptly eat the whole container in one day. I cook myself meals that my parents used to make for me when I want comfort food, experimenting with how close I can get it to tasting like the version I remember from home. And I certainly don’t mind when I get to go home and enjoy a good old plate of Mom’s spaghetti.