As I sat at the table staring at this horrid, unrecognizable pile of mush on my plate, I wished that I had a mom who could make a dinner that actually appealed to human tastes. This was a thought I had in my youth, perhaps a little too often. You see, my step mom was raised in a very poor part of Wyoming. Due to this, her parents had to find very unique ways to make meals that fit the budget. Unfortunately, this practice stretched across the generations into my step moms food repertoire and devastated our family meals. I knew we weren't financially gifted while growing up, but we weren't dirt poor either, so I never understood why she resorted to these food abominations that even the family dog would leave untouched, these atrocities known as casseroles.
My mom would never warn me when she was planning to cook these crimes against the human taste bud, but soon I could detect the various scents of food that should never be forced to share the same dish. Sweet green beans that if cooked in any other fashion would be a crisp, juicy, delicious side dish. Baked chicken which would be a delectable main course if not for it's mushy and creamy counterparts. Graham crackers had absolutely no business in this dish, but alas, my stepmother was not clued into this fact. Even something as delicious and creamy as homemade gravy was carelessly tossed into this food travesty acting as a sort of glue to hold this disgusting dish together. For an average household, these smells lingering in the air might mean a delicious dinner consisting of perfectly grilled chicken with heavenly homemade gravy and fresh cut green beans, but my stepmother made sure this plague of humanity did not die with her childhood.
To be fair, I'm not exactly the best judge when it comes to food. Growing up I had a very particular palette. If I had my choice, my diet would've consisted of nothing but peanut butter and jelly, Kraft macaroni and cheese, cereal, cheese, and pizza. To make matters worse, I can't stand when certain foods touch and contaminate each other. This probably contributed more than anything else to my hatred of these goopy, chewy, smelly dishes. The nights on which my stepmother made these casserole dinners were my worst nightmare.
I went to take my mandatory fist bite to assure my parents that I indeed still didn't like casseroles. I regretted every moment because I knew that nothing had changed. “If I didn’t like it last time what makes my parents think I'm going to like it this time” I thought. Every second seemed to be longer than the last. I could see my hand coming towards my mouth with a spoonful of this horrid goop, every inch of me screamed “Don't do it!” but I had to keep moving. As the spoon finally entered my mouth, I tried not to gag as I felt the intense slime stick to the sides of my mouth. The chunks beating against my tongue and the taste of dirt with milk and the dry dull taste of bark mixed with the grainy texture of sand. I knew all I could do was breathe deep and try to ignore the urge to vomit all over the table. I finally shut my eyes and forced myself to swallow. One big gulp and its finally gone but the taste still lingered in my mouth. I proudly showed my mom I had finally done the impossible and swallowed the spoonful and joyfully asked to be excused. I would happily scoot my chair out as quickly and quietly as humanly possible. I rushed to the kitchen and dumped my plate full of this ungodly mess in the sink. I reached for a glass from the cupboard excitedly, knowing what was in store. I threw open the fridge door and grabbed the nearest jug I could see and poured the bright green liquid into my glass. Lime flavored Kool-Aide, the only substance powerful enough to cleanse the taste of casserole from my mouth. The liquid would hit the top of the glass and I would chug as fast as I could. I could feel the ice cold liquid fill my mouth and glide down my throat. The taste of sweet green gummy bears swept away the last lingering taste of the nasty dinner that was neither a solid or a liquid. As I took the last big gulp I started to feel a slight smile come across my face. I would set my cup down and realize it’s all over... This time.
Though I am not found of these memories, I am thankful for what those dinners have taught me. First, no matter how hard my parents or I tried, there are just some foods I can never like. Second, sometimes shitty situations happen and there is nothing you can do to get out of them. All you can do is take a deep breath, close your eyes and force yourself to swallow because at the end of it all, you will be able to set your cup down and be able to smile.
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