May 16, 2008


My parents made some pretty awful food for dinner when I was a kid.

It affected me deeply.

To this day.

My sister would disagree. She liked it.

Stewed tomatoes, Lawry's Seasoning Salt, and a sleeve of crushed Saltine crackers mixed together was one delicacy. I called it puke-in-a-pan. My dad called it dinner.

My mother liked to make something she called, Porcupine Balls. The main ingredients were, Rice-a-Roni and ground beef .

We never invited anyone over on the nights we were having Porcupine Balls.

It was a family secret.

The only thing I liked about Porcupine Balls being served for dinner was getting to say the word balls as many times as I could get away with without being slapped or sent to my room.

I used to invite myself to the neighbors house for dinner whenever I didn't like what we were having.

One night I saw liver, bacon, and onions cooking on the stove.

I was desperate to eat anything but that. No amount of ketchup, pinching your nose with every bite, or the promise of a root beer float with an extra scoop of vanilla ice cream for dessert could make that crap taste good.

My friend across the street told me her mom was making a roast.

I invited myself for dinner.

We sat down to eat and my friends mother took something out of the oven and placed it on the table.

I took one look at it and said, "Shouldn't that thing be dead first?"

I was sent home.

Sent to my room without dinner.

And I didn't get that root beer float with vanilla ice cream.

That's okay.

I don't like root beer or ice cream.

The next day at school I told my teacher our family's dirty little secret.

"My mother makes us eat Porcupine Balls."


Anonymous said...

OK, let's get one thing straight...I hated puke in a pan!I just pretended to like it to form some sort of connection with dad, just like I pretended to like burnt toast to impress Uncle Nolan(and ate a boatload to prove it one day) and ate cheese with the mold cut off to impress Grandpa and ate cottage cheese sprinkled with brown sugar on white bread broiled under the oven to impress Mrs. Adams who swore it was just like Danish pastry only less calories??! I also ate chocolate covered grasshoppers delivered straight from Japan , in a candy box no less, to prove that I wasn't a sissy to Ann Hiraga. I pretended to like them and asked for more. After all this, Moms food was like manna from heaven. Can you see why I preferred to eat in the safety of my own home? Who knows what I would feel compelled to eat anywhere else!!!

Kathbob said...

Anonymous seems to be protesting too much. I think she loved puke in a pan...come on admit it.

Romi said...

Can you guess who anonymous is?

Kathbob said...

Yep we know who anonymouse is...what I want to know is what did she eat this week to really prove once and for all that she didn't like puke in a pan? If it wasn't something really spectacularly horrid then I think she really does LOVE puke in a pan. If she hates it she needs to prove not just with words...don't ya think?

Anonymous said...

Spectacularly horrid you say?
Does the fact that I've eaten a Hormel Deviled ham sandwich (sourdough bread, toasted, no crusts) for breakfast every morning for the past two, or is it three years count as SH?
Or is SH the whole box of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese (original style)that I had for dinner two nights ago? After that sodium feast (2300mgs) my feet swelled up to the size of watermellons and I never got to the store to pick up that Jello No Bake Cheesecake I was craving for dessert:(
Now do you believe me?