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A few weeks ago, I mentioned an assignment in which we students were to reflect on our earliest food memories. Since that post, I have re-done the assignment in a way that more nearly captures the spirit of the assignment, that is, I chose a different memory that focused more on the food itself.

I apologize for the repetitive nature of this post, but due to an unfortunate incident with the Spiralizer this evening, my ability to type is limited (to say the least)! Enjoy.

Beginning from the age of about five, every Sunday morning was the same. I’d wake up, pick out a dress, and wrestle with a pair of tights for a few minutes before giving up and flouncing downstairs to breakfast. Chattering and with legs swinging, I’d wait patiently wait at the table as my mother prepared breakfast. A simple pot of Cream of Wheat bubbled away on the stove, although my mind was far from the meal at hand; the sweet treat that awaited me at the end of the morning was all that danced through my head.

I would quietly sit through church and make my way to Sunday school. My tummy grumbled through the repetitions of the Lord’s Prayer, and as I stared at Mrs. Tomes’s round face, I could have sworn that it took on the shape of a doughnut—after all, that was what had been occupying my mind all morning. A trip to Graham’s bakery was just minutes away; the family’s weekly doughnut run was tantalizingly close.

When Sunday school finally ended, I would rush from the room in search of my parents. I’d listen for my mother’s laugh, always the loudest and most distinctive in any crowd, and drag her by the arm toward the parking lot. Even as a young child, I felt the urgency of imminent foodie pleasure.

At last we made it to beloved Graham’s. Upon entering, I was enrobed in a blanket of sweet aromas; I was mesmerized by elaborately decorated cakes. In short, my senses were captivated. Soon enough, I would make my way to the doughnut case and stand in awe of the seemingly endless variety before me. There were shelves upon shelves of doughnuts, featuring crème-filled to glazed to chocolate-frosted (complete with multi-colored sprinkles). As any sensible girl would, I typically analyzed over my choice for at least ten minutes until I got the stink-eye from both sisters (and sometimes my mother too). Inevitably, I always chose the same variety—a jelly-filled doughnut, complete with a powdered sugar exterior. The flavor of jelly changed weekly, so each Sunday’s treat brought an element of surprise to my taste-buds. The tasting experience was always the same, however—the warm doughnut contrasted with the sweet, cool jelly brought tremendous pleasure to my young palate. Sadly, I never thought to savor the flavors. No more than two minutes passed between the time the pastry entered my hands to the time it vanished, and all that remained was a jelly-smeared napkin and a grinning face smudged with powdered sugar.

My family moved away from Pittsburgh when I was seven years old, and we never found a replacement for Graham’s near our new home in Birmingham. Over the past fifteen years, I have yet to taste a jelly doughnut that could compare to those made at Graham’s. Perhaps neither the flavors enjoyed nor the memories formed in that bakery are ever to be replicated.

Now it’s your turn. Tell me about your favorite food memories—it doesn’t have to be from your childhood!

Today I got to work making some new food memories…

Over the years, I’ve seen countless variations on oatmeal toppings—from muffins to pie to bacon, I’ve seen it all. Recently, I’ve noticed a few bloggers using cottage cheese as an oatmeal topper—why didn’t I think of that? Oats and cottage cheese are two of my favorite foods ever. However, I was not overly impressed with the combination this morning. I like hot foods hot and cold foods cold—this breakfast was a somewhat unpleasant mix of the two.

After some crazy productivity this morning, I re-fueled with a modified version of my Sweet Potato Black Bean Salad. Where’s a Champagne mango when you need it?

Dinner started out alright—I popped a batch of Orange Sesame Tofu in the oven and began spiralizing some veggies to go along with it. Then I set about cleaning this beloved contraption…and sliced the crap outta my finger. Ouch. Hence my current typing handicap.

Alright, I am off to tend to my wound. Ta-ta for now!

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