So, being unemployed, bored and looking for inspiration to write, I started rifling through old school assignments from high school/community college. I ran across a memoir I wrote in my first formal writing class when I was 16. It still makes me laugh. Here it is, I only tweaked a couple of things (it was hard not to revamp the whole thing)....
When We Used to Have Tater-Tot Casserole
Yes it's true. It may sound strange, but I have very distinct memories of family dinners with Tater-Tot casserole. I remember sitting around the big round kitchen table that my father built. I remember feeling small every time I sat down to it. I always loved the brownish worn finish that my dad put on it. He put so much care into that table. I remember the feelings of anticipation waiting for my father to get home, and fighting with my brothers and sister about who got to sit next to him. It happened every night. Then he would walk in the and we (my brothers, sisters and I) would all rush to be the first one to give him a hug. Then we would all have to fight once again over who got to got to sit by him. Finally, Mom would pull the casserole out of the oven and put it on the table. I will never forget the warm, tingly, shivery feeling I got whenever Mom would pull a hot meal out of the oven on a cold, drizzly day. Mom always made the best Tater-Tot casserole.
Then, we would all sit down--the fight about who got to sit by Dad resolved, but usually not without someone upset about the decision. And then Dad would pick someone to pray over the meal. I remember just hoping like crazy that he would pick me, I don't know why. Sometimes he would play tricks on us and look at one child and then call another child's name and ask them to pray. It was always hard to guess who he would pick. It was kind of a game. After the prayer (which was invariably a speedy "Thank You, God, for the food, Amen."), Mom would serve us up. Sometimes Dad would do it, but mostly Mom. Usually I would wait until my plate was full before I began to eat, but not with Tater-Tot casserole. We were never allowed to ask anyone to pass any food right after the prayer. It was rude, so we had to wait for everything to be passed around. I could never wait that long with Tater-Tot casserole. The smell was too overpowering. But every time, before I took the first luscious bite that I'd anticipated all evening, I would watch my dad mash his serving down with a fork. Then I would do the same, not having a clue why. I didn't find out until years later that he did this to cool it down quicker.
After all the regular steps had been repeated yet another evenign, I would take the long awaited first bite of my favorite dinner. I have always loved the smell, yes, but the taste is just a little bit better. The hamburger is the best part (especially the chunks). I remember thinking in my childhood that Tater-Tot casserole was the only thing in the world that actually tasted like it smelled. All my siblings agreed and said that they had thought the same thing, while my parents just stared at us with like we had been abducted. Oh well, just another difference between adults and children, I thought.
These days, whenever I have this dish, which is still my favorite, I always mash it down, take the time to savor the smell, taste, and the texture while all those elements take me back to the days of my happy childhood. And in doing this I always think "Tater-Tot casserole tastes just like it smells". All this may sound a little odd, but I think I've learned that it is important to appreciate these things in life, no matter how little. Life, perhaps, is too short to rush through, always looking ahead, without looking back on happy days or moments. I think it might help us relate better to the children around us. However, even though I have solved the mystery of why Dad always mashed his Tots before consumption, I still cannot figure out how Tater-Tot casserole can smell and taste the same way. Oh well, I guess I will have to keep eating it to figure it out.
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