Food is an amazing thing that transports you to a different time and place. Acting as a bridge for families. Acting as pleasure, sustenance, and comfort, food is outrageously important. When I think back on memories, there is always food. Always. Anything important to ever happen in my life, good or bad, has always been complimented with food. As it should be. Food is a distraction when it needs to be. It’s a centerpiece when it needs to be. And it’s a way of life when it needs to be. Don’t ignore food, embrace it, remember it, cherish it, love it. Don’t be afraid of fats, salts, meats, carbs, and sweets. Enjoy life, eat whatever the hell you want.
Soda is normally limited throughout the year. Not on Super Bowl Sunday. Grape Shasta. As much as possible. What an unbelievable drink. I thought it was going to take me days to remember the brand. But for some reason it came to me as soon as I started typing.
There’s something about this day that makes me smile. Maybe it’s because I would see up to 100 cousins, not to mention the family friends. Chaos running wild through the house. Growing up, I’d steal my brothers’ trading cards and then black market sell them in my basement to other relatives. Quite the business plan. Really low overheard. I’d run around the house and sell squares to my aunts and uncles. Not as profitable, I don’t think I ever won.
The family time was delightful but something else was brewing. The food was a cornucopia of Buell treasures. Popcorn, deviled eggs, sandwiches, meatballs, pulled pork, brownies, cookies, Rice Krispy treats, fudge fancies, bowls of cold cuts and mayonnaise, every chip imaginable, sour cream and onion dip (quite possibly the best condiment), shrimp cocktail. The list goes on. My family is not really a big drinking family, but we absolutely know how to eat.
Soda is normally limited throughout the year. Not on Super Bowl Sunday. Grape Shasta. As much as possible. What an unbelievable drink. I thought it was going to take me days to remember the brand. But for some reason it came to me as soon as I started typing.
We used to get together twice a year to see each other, the Super Bowl and the fall family reunion. Both called for copious amounts of food. It’s magic, eating your distanced families food. Americana at it’s finest. We usually end up talking about what happened at previous years’ parties. But the cycle of it keeps you alive, it reminded you how special these moments were.
Especially now, with an aging family, and limited time spent together, it’s the food that can keep us together. Every time I eat pulled pork, I think of my cousin Matt. I probably haven’t seen him in two years, and we talk maybe once a year every time my car breaks down so he can tell me what to do. But pulled pork keeps him connected with me. Same with Aunt Rose and those meatballs. And whoever the genius is that brings the garbage bread (it’s a big family and I’m the youngest, names can be tough).
There is a finite number of truly vivid memories from our collective childhood. The Super Bowl is one that is indefinitely stuck in my head.
Here we have cousin Steve staring into the abyss of what is the Buell family super bowl party.
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