I bought bologna at the store yesterday and hid it under some other foods so DH wouldn’t find it. I’ve even trained him to agree to my aversion of processed meats.
I fried some this morning and laid the pieces between two slices of bread with mayo spread thick. Thank goodness, I could only eat half. But I did eat half. It was awful. Not at all like my memories.
I made us fried egg sandwiches for lunch a couple of days ago, laid on top of mayo-ed bread.
It occurred to me today what was going on. I wish I had realized it yesterday and not bought the bologna. It has been decades--truly, decades--since I last bought bologna.
These are foods from my childhood. Things Mother served us. Cheap. Filling. And the fat caused us to crave more fats. Missing her in my life, I am trying to fill it with memories of her. Being a foodie, that means food memories.
I misspoke when I said these were my childhood foods. We couldn’t afford mayonnaise. Mother used “salad dressing”, a mayo-esque food product you could buy by the gallon. We called it “goo”.
I know we all grieve in our own ways and own time. I am allowing myself that luxury. But this food grieving has been interesting.
I'm hoping I don’t crave "goo sandwiches" next. That was a childhood fave. Goo between two slices of bread. Yummers!