NOURISH YOUR BODY
Foods We Love BY REBECCA CRICHTON
C
raig Claiborne, the venerable food critic and cookbook writer for The New York Times, wrote that we all love “nursery foods.” Those would be the creamy, sweet, soft foods we associate with our childhood—or at least the childhoods of mid-20th century Americans. His point was well taken. I can’t hear the words “tapioca pudding” without my mouth watering. Same thing with “melted cheese.” From custards to whipped cream, we can count on feeling soothed and comforted when we encounter those foods, and they are often from our childhoods.
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3rd Act magazine | spring 2022
I am unashamedly conflating what we call “comfort foods”—macaroni and cheese, grilled cheese sandwiches dipped in tomato soup, mashed potatoes with butter and sour cream, meat loaf with ketchup—with foods we love. These dishes often show up as regulars on menus at places where people go to eat what makes them happy, not what makes them appreciate a chef’s talent. Food as both expression and proof of love are ancient pairs. I am not talking about food as a substitute for love. (I think that is a particular 20th century
aberration and one which many of us can relate to.) I asked a friend what foods he loved. He started with a generic statement I couldn’t dispute: “Any well-prepared meal made with good ingredients and care.” Even so, I shut him down. “No! What do you love to eat, what makes you happy?” He laughed: “A really good sardine sandwich! A bowl of excellent congee!” Absolutely. When I want to feel happy, I make my favorite garlic potatoes with peas, melted cheese, and Indian lime pickle. I mash it all together. Each bite has its own hit of flavor. What’s more, I usually eat this by myself since I can’t count on anybody else joining me with same level of enthusiasm the mixture elicits from me. I also crave my cilantro salsa with its bright citrus tang. (See the recipe in the Summer 2018 issue.) I visited friends recently and was served “dump cake,” something never previously encountered. Turns out there is a whole range of dump cakes, recently revived—or never forgotten— examples of post-World War II foods that were made with cans and boxed ingredients. My virgin experience with the category was the classic Cherry Dump Cake—canned pie cherries, yellow cake mix, a stick and a half of butter dotted on top. Baked, served warm with whipped cream. OMG! It hit all the pleasure receptors on my unsuspecting tongue.
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