Time Travels

by Jane Adams

All photographs by Jane Adams

        This past week I took a trip back in time - culinarily speaking that is. It all started when my eighty-seven year old father began an extended stay with me after a recent hospital visit.  During his recuperation, he had a simple request of me - comfort foods.  "Okay," I thought, "I'll just whip up some garlicky linguini aglio olio to help him vanquish those germs." Or perhaps, I'll just head over to Issei Noodle in Carlisle for take-out in the way of some rejuvenating "Pho". But it wouldn't be quite that easy, For Dad, the "comfort food" he had been referring to were from his youth and definitely, a past era - namely, the 1940's!

       Imagine a time a long, long time ago. I'm speaking of the days long before Wegman's Supermarkets existed. Before craft beer. Before spring rolls, sushi, and edamame... even before organic foods were spoken of as mainstream products.
      The times to which I allude, were days where the main spices used by my dad's family (who hailed from England) were salt and pepper. Butter was the predominant condiment, and the main starch - potatoes. 

      In grade school, my dad tried spaghetti and meatballs for the first time at a neighbor's house and considered it an exotic treat. As crazy as it sounds, even pasta and red tomato sauce was uncommon to him in those days.

     Following his discharge, I reluctantly began preparing some classic dishes as my dad requested they be prepared.  Chicken and rice, bean soup, beef stew. I must say, the first few days of this new cooking style were a definite struggle. I was mortally offended when he insisted I leave all garlic out of a dish. "What? No garlic?" How would my food have any soul?
     
     But after a while, I must admit it felt somewhat liberating. Free of the need to create something gourmet on a nightly basis, I cooked simple foods in a simple manner. In some ways, the taste of the individual components shined, unimpeded by intrusive counterparts.   Oddly, less laborious preparation meant more time to savor the food. Less cleanup, less stress, more time for conversation. 

     I can't say I'll continue cooking this way on a continuous basis, but it was nice departure from my typical style. And if by chance a rogue piece of Brie or Parmagiano Reggiano ends up in the grilled cheese, I'm not complaining and definitely not telling dad!