Many years ago, my friend Ruth and I hung out with “Fast Eddie” Sabella, a lively economics professor from Rhode Island. Eddie had just started dating again, and we were excited to join him and his new partner, Ingrid, for dinner at a fancy restaurant called The White House. We enjoyed a delicious dish of veal ravioli in vodka sauce, but as Eddie praised the meal, Ingrid looked frustrated. “What’s wrong with you guys?” she exclaimed. “You only talk about food! I guess I’m not like you. I eat to live, but you all live to eat.”
The car ride back was quiet. It turned out we never saw Ingrid again. Eddie wasn’t interested in someone who didn’t appreciate food as much as he did. He often reminisced about his childhood in an Italian neighborhood, where his mother’s cooking brought joy to their home.
I could relate. Growing up, my Grandpa Wood had simple tastes. He might have preferred cornbread and cranberry sauce over a fancy steak any day. His Scandinavian wife would whip up Norwegian Guacamole, a blend of bacon drippings and old bread—nothing went to waste in their kitchen.
On my mom’s side, food stories were just as memorable. She made sour cream pancakes, always serving herself plain sweet-pickled beets while the rest of us devoured them with butter and syrup. Her sister, Myrt, had a knack for cooking too but insisted on “elevating” everyday dishes. She’d mash potatoes to make them fancy, which often didn’t work out as planned.
Aunt Dorie, on the other hand, had a unique approach to pot roast. She served it with Jell-O, but not the fruit-filled kind. Instead, she used lime or lemon Jell-O mixed with minced celery and onions, topped with tangy mayo. Surprisingly, it was delicious!
Through these food memories, it’s clear that food isn’t just about nourishment. It’s about bonding, sharing stories, and creating connections. Studies show that family meals can improve relationships and bring people closer together. A survey by the National Center on Addiction and Substance Abuse reported that teens who regularly share meals with their families are less likely to engage in risky behaviors.
Food has a way of tying us to our roots and to each other. Whether it’s a simple dish or a complex creation, meals create moments that linger long after the plates are empty. So, perhaps, the next time someone brings up food at the table, remember: it’s more than just a conversation. It’s a connection to history, family, and each other.
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Woodworking Again, Dave Wood, food, love of food, column
