Jeff's Food Memories of Youth

I always had awesome birthday cakes, with Superman and Batman standing out from the rest.  I'm not sure those particular cakes stand out because they were my favorites at the time or if it's because they're the ones that would be most popular with my kids now. But as great as the memories of birthdays are, they're surpassed by the memories of the menu of my high-school years.

With remarkable consistency, I think I ate nearly the same daily menu for the better part of high school. For breakfast, I'd have the ggrreeaat!-est cereal known to man, Frosted Flakes. For lunch, a PBJ. For dinner, a chicken-rice casserole. 

Even all these years later, I can picture those dinners with remarkable precision. We'd be gathered around the table with ABC News or Jeopardy! on the TV. At the time I thought the TV was to help us learn current events or random trivia. As I reflect on it now, however, the TV's purpose may have been to distract us from the monotony of our everyday chicken casserole. Served in a white casserole dish with small floral flourishes on the side, the dish had three main ingredients: chicken, rice, and cream of something soup. The soup ingredient kept it lively: Tuesday, it'd be cream of chicken; Thursday, cream of mushroom. Maybe Wednesday would have a little extra black pepper to spice it up. Remarkably, I don't think we ever complained about the meals...we were either too happy just to have food or just maybe the dinner menu wasn't as consistent as I remember.

But one thing I remember for sure is my favorite food--potato cinnamon rolls. How good were they? Embarrassingly, coming home from college on breaks, it was those cinnamon rolls that occupied my mind more so than reuniting with family. Had it been socially acceptable, I probably wouldn't have talked to anybody until I ate them. Typing about them now, I'm starting to salivate and I haven't had them for years. Truly, there's nothing better than a gallon of milk and a sheet of those rolls--and not having to share until I'm done. 

So, thanks, mom! Thanks for having sheets of cinnamon rolls hot from the oven at remarkably inconvenient times, thanks for keeping us all fed, and thanks for teaching us all to be courageous in the kitchen. Most of the time, Tammy and kids appreciate the culinary skills you taught me (and when they don't, it's clearly my fault!). Happy Birthday!