[Worst meal at someone's home - Part 1]

Racheld: Never really bothered to cover it up...Maybe that's why we get stared down? Never really put the two together, but it gives me something to think about...

Sorry about the chair!!

SuzySushi: We've been victim of that, too. I've been invited over to their house, for a "quick visit" at 10 am, a few times. Never one to arrive empty handed, I've showed up with a basket of bagels, and all the trimmings. The bagels get whisked away to the kitchen, and that's that. I've learned to eat my bagel in the car, on the way over.

They've stopped over at my house, too, and I've had a coffee cake, or something, and they just stare at it like it has hair sprouting from the center. They *always* turn down beverages and food.

She also fusses with the pillows, when we move from the couch, or whatever, I know EXACTLY what you mean. It's a very strange behavior pattern.

[PMS: Tell it Like It Is. Your cravings, Babe (Part 1)]

Last night, at 11:30 pm, I consumed a giant bowl of egg noodles, dripping with butter, and sauteed garlic, dosed liberally with salt.

Then, I snuck one of the homemade amaretto truffles I made, to give as gifts...

My husband stared at me in shock, as I stood over the sink, shoving noodles in my mouth, with the wooden spoon. Then he saw me go for the chocolate, and went "Ah. Mmhmm." and left the room.

[High Atop the Fridge]

Hmm. Lots of arts and crafts stuff, a ream of newsprint, a basket of candy from holidays past (dating back to Christmas '04) that no one eats, a few empty baskets, various things that have been taken away from my son, and put up, only to be forgotten. A huge black art glass ribbon bowl, that was supposed to be the ONLY thing up there. I really tried to keep it uncluttered and beautiful. For a month.

Lots of crap. I'm a little neurotic about dust in the kitchen, so I run one of those fluffy dusters around up there once in awhile. I fool myself into thinking that does the trick.

This post makes me unhappy, after the holidays I have a cleaning project.

[Worst meal at someone's home - Part 1]

Haha, you guys are great! Thanks again for the warm welcomes

I could go on and on, about furitive eating.

We have an informal tradition, of stopping at White Castle, before going to dinner at my "Grandy and Grandmom's" house. The whole dinner thing (usually twice a year, requisite summer meal, requisite winter meal) has become something of a family event.

Normally, Grandmom will call us a week before the dinner is to happen. She calls myself, my aunt, and various other relatives from my father's side. Then, my aunt and I will break our fingers trying to call each other, right after. We often run into mutual busy signals, because we're so frantic to call each other, and gossip. The calls go something like this:

Me: "Did you get The Call?"

Aunt: "Yes...she sounded colder than usual this year..."

"Maybe they already hooked her up to the formaldyhide..."

"..." (she gives me the Look, over the phone)

"So, what do you think it's going to be? Anyone start placing bets yet? Summer meal was bratwursts this year, Melissa still owes me money..."

Then the betting ensues. You see, Grandmom has a very short list of recipes. Summer Meal is either "ribs" chunks of flaccid pork floating in diluted generic storebought barbecue sauce, or "brats" boiled till they're dead, and grey, with stale rolls, and canned sauerkraut. Both vile, in unique ways. I've considered converting to the Muslim faith, in the days prior to these meals. Winter meal is a shade more varied. We've gotten beef burgundy, lasagna sans cheese (Grandy does NOT like cheese) baked chicken, and some other forgettable meals.

So, we place bets. Side bets for dessert, bets on sides, and on "appetizers". We bet on quantities, too. 8 people, 8 ribs. 12 people, one 12oz bag of egg noodles. Once, it was 14 people, 10 chairs. My husband, and I, got to sit at the "kiddy table" two rooms away. We're in our late 20's-30's. That was a few years ago, and I have yet to live it down.

Then, we have competitions, to get there the latest, without being really late-late...and no one wants to show up, to be alone with Them, for too long. So, we circle the neighborhood, till we see someone else's car, coming up, sometimes we pass each other, while circling, where we triumphantly hold up our White Castle bags, and giggle.

We stay our 1.5 hours, perched on the edge of our fussy, fancy little chairs, baking in the dry heat, trying very very hard to keep a conversation going. Most of us drink water, while we're there, but They drink scotch, and a lot. Grandmom is an alcoholic, so by that hour she's normally blitzed, and things get icier and icier. It's the same, every visit.

Wintertime, we go home with a plate of Christmas cookies. The birds LOVE her cookies. Dry, hard, burnt spare little things, that get the barest hint of sugar, and not eve a whisper of butter. Brown ones, and light colored ones. My son unwittingly grabbed one, on the car ride home once... He was hacking and blowing crumbs all over the car, for the rest of the ride.

It sounds like I'm being cruel, but Grandmom is my dad's stepmom, and she genuinely hates "the kids" and by default my family, because we are "the grandkids". She also hates fat people. She makes all sorts of scathing comments about people's bodymass. "Billy, I see you're getting more and more robust, pretty soon, you won't be able to fit in an air plane seat...how will you get here?" But, she's nice enough to force us together, a few times a year, in the name of family. She stares at us like we're rotting onions, though. Being the first one there, is like being a worm on a hook.

I've got a million stories about Them.

[Back-of-the-Package Cooking]

I always preferred the oatmeal cookie recipe on the back of the raisin box, higher ratio of raisins of course. I think I might have evolved my own, striking a balance between the Quaker and the Sunmaid versions.

Libby's pumpkin pie is a Thanksgiving staple, Bisquick drop biscuits, and the "melt in your mouth" variation on their pancakes. I've also toyed with some recipes found on the backs of Barilla pasta boxes.

[The Turning Point]

I'm a 'regular' at the Holmdel location, the food is good, and since becoming friendly with the staff, the already good service has become outstanding.

I'm more of a lunch person, I don't care for many traditional breakfast foods, and their tuna salad is the best I've ever had. I loved it so much, I changed the way I made it at home, to something closer to their recipe. I know this is lame, but they make great grilled cheese, too. I feel like a 5 year old when I order one, but...that bread... Generally fresh ingredients, all around, quality stuff, well presented.

Once in a while, like with any place, there's bumps in the quality or service, but it's decent, overall. Great change of pace from diners or franchise resturaunts.

[Car Cuisine: do you indulge? favorite food?]

I don't eat while driving very often, but I eat lots of meals in my car. I love my car. I live near an excellent waterfront, with a stunning view of the NY Skyline. I hit up a local deli, for soup and a sandwich, quite frequently, and sit in my car, down at the beach, eating, listening to the radio, and reading. It's the most serene way to have a lunch break, ever.

[Worst meal at someone's home - Part 1]

WOW, great first post, and some horrible meals  . Much better then my first post.

Welcome to eG.

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It was informative, well written, and, uh, helpful. Thanks for the welcome! I'm from NJ too

[Worst meal at someone's home - Part 1]

The "Adventures in Eating" board has become my new favorite, ever.

Longtime lurker, I had to register, and participate.

My mother couldn't cook, so add me to the group of people that are "good food obsessed" as an adult. I lived for years on plain boiled potatoes, 1/4" thick greasy fried pork chops, the cheapest the grocery store could offer, and boiled-to-paste cauliflower or broccoli. Friday night, it was pizza night, where she would spring for a medium plain pie from a well known franchise, as a child, I LIVED for Friday evenings. Nowadays I can't even hear the commercials without cringing. God. Awful. This isn't about horror stories from home cooking, but I could write volumes. I learned to cook full, complete meals by age 11, out of necessity.

You'd think I'd be calloused to lousy food. These are some of the worst meals I can call to memory...the ones that live on as the legendary stories.

Beware bachelors:

An old friend moved into his first apartment, when he was 21. He wanted to have my husband and I, over, for his first 'real dinner guests' We brought a salad, and some home made brownies for dessert. He dissapeared into the kitchen, and I followed, prematurely praising him for his hospitality. He was another that fancied himself a great cook, and liked to tell people "I start with the basics, and like to add this and that, to my own tastes." Well, in this case "The basics" was a box of macaroni and cheese, doctored with a can of cream of chicken, a can of string beans, worcestershire sauce, Tobasco, and about fifteen random seasonings. I think some cajun stuff, and maybe some oregano. No milk...no butter. I was too busy staring in abject horror. Luckily, one box of mac 'n cheese doesn't go far, between 4 people. Luckily, I thought ahead and made some salad dressing, since he didn't have any. I should have thought ahead and brought something to drink too, or maybe some ice cubes, because tap water didn't do enough to wash down the spicy glue we ate for dinner.

Beware hosts that you've never met:

My stepmother was attending a convention in Baltimore for a week, staying with old college friends of hers, and invited us down for a visit. Lovely people...but strange. Nice. Strange.

We arrived after a rough five hour drive, about a half hour before dinner. Their beautiful house was already filled with yummy smells, we were excited. After getting settled, the hostess called us to dinner, which started with a giant tureen of vegetable soup. Bland, but filled with fresh veggies, and tasty. There was storebought cornbread, too, but it was forgettable. After one bowl she hopped up and cleared the soup away, oh man, I couldn't wait for the entree, we were starved at this point! The hostess returns 10 minutes later with some home made gingerbread, and lemon sauce. The soup was dinner. My husband, stepmother, and I exchanged looks...

The next night, we had leftover soup, leftover bread, and the hostess made her "most favorite dish" for dinner! Eggplant casserole, she squealed. I love me some eggplant. This was cubed eggplant, boiled till it was grey paste. No discernable seasonings. It was literally painful to eat.

The night after that, leftover eggplant, storebought macaroni and potato salads, and the gingerbread made a reappearance, reheated, for some reason. It was gingerbricks.

More of the same for the whole week. We were under the assumption that they were vegetarians, till the last night, when they REALLY put on a spread. Half a pound of sliced ham, and Kraft singles, for sammiches, on white bread. Mayo, yellow mustard, leftover storebought salads. *weep*

After that first night, one of our first stops the next day was the local grocery store, where we bought pounds of cheese, and various cured sausages, crackers, and other snackies. We'd run out to the car, every night, and feast out of the trunk, like fugitives. We even invited my stepmom out there for a late-night picnic. (it was early December, so we were lucky, that way)

Breakfasts were shredded wheat and skim milk. Lunches we ate out (and WOW did we eat...I ate STEAKS for lunch.) Other highlights from that trip included the cloth napkins that they had at every meal...She cleared away and put in a basket to the next meal. Reused cloth napkins. I got one with someone else's lipstick on it once. There was no TV, or any other forms of entertainment in the house (and did I mention? The house was GORGEOUS) besides a fireplace. We read a lot, that week. The hosts retired upstairs about 10 mintues after dinner, so we had HOURS to sit around and...read. We slept on a futon, that only unfolded partway, in the office.

Very nice people. Very strange.

Beware inlaws that hate you:

Every meal with the inlaws was a challenge. The food was always terrible, and they would always insist that we visit on holidays. They also always ate dinner around 1 pm, so it was not a huge problem to stop in there and pretend to eat, hang around for a half hour, and bail, off to the good relatives' houses, for real food. They ALWAYS told us what time to come, and we would show up around that time, to a half empty table, served semi-buffet style. Stepmother always told HER 5 kids to come a half hour early. We got to pick from the remains. Once, she made roasted chickens, boiled veggies, and instant mashed potatoes. I dumped some 'gravy' on my plate...or I thought it was. It was in a gravy boat. It was clear. Crystal clear, pale yellow, and thick. It shined up the potatoes like laquer, and ran off my plate in thick mucusy strings. We stopped eating with them.

My paternal grandmother's dinners were only slightly better. Maybe I'll tell about them another time.