Geriatric cooking
The Ritz cracker incident
I grew up in a large family: five hungry, boys. Mom fed us plenty. She managed a house full of boys - little boys, teenage boys, young adults. Now Mom lives mostly, though not absolutely, alone. For many years every time I visit I’ve noticed that she’s fallen out of the habit of feeding large numbers. I think she doesn’t even remember how to feed a lot of hungry boys. A typical dinner with Mom nowadays requires me to eat a sandwich or two afterwards just to ingest enough calories to feel full. It’s not my own opinion. Some of my brothers have similarly commented/complained. It also concerns me a little to think that she might not be eating enough herself.
So I consider eating dinner with Mom a risky venture. And, eating between-meal snacks at her house is also risky these days due to a paucity of choice. When I envision a between-meal snack I usually envision some kind of cracker - sometimes cheese. Growing up, the crackers and biscuits were always in the same place, the high cupboard above the cat food, and also the high cupboard above the telephone desk. Crackers and biscuits are still there, but I’ve learned from experience that they are often old and stale, hence the problem of finding a proper snack. I ask,
“Do you have any crackers?”
“Oh, sure, in the cupboard there.”
“But are they fresh?”
“Oh, sure.”
One day after dinner on a recent visit to Mom’s house I was still feeling peckish and asked if she had any snacks. Right behind me on the counter was an open box of Ritz crackers. I have never been a great fan of Ritz. Sure, I can and do eat them. But left to myself I prefer a salty biscuit like Premium Saltines. She assured me they were okay, so I took one and began eating it. Soon I hopped up from the kitchen chair, raced to the kitchen waste box and spat out a masticated mouthful of crumbs. Then I grabbed the box for a closer look and angrily pointed out to her - shouting at her - that the expiration date for the crackers was in January 2016, almost 3½-years ago!