Feast of love (Obviously I really like using tv and movie references for my titles.)

Today, as I was driving to work, I was listening to NPR/OPB's "Think Out Loud." The hosts were talking to contributors of Hunger and Thirst, an anthology about food and our relationship with it. I had a great time, listening to a few of the poems and story excerpts, and I was especially excited when poet Carlos Reyes came on the air.

I actually attended one of his poetry workshops back in high school, and I recall that he was quite a character. Today he spoke of visiting a small island (I think... I missed out on the beginning.) and having to eat fly larvae. According to him, eating the larvae seemed like eating freeze-dried caviar. Mmm...

Another woman (I wish I could remember which one!) read a poem she wrote about her cousin's wake. Apparently her heritage is that of Scottish descent, and when her cousin committed suicide she wanted to bring foods that reminded everyone of their beloved grandmother to bring comfort to the gathering: shortbread and whiskey.

I suppose the food that most reminds me of my family are my mother's rolls that she has baked at Christmas and Thanksgiving since before I was born. They look like the Pillsbury crescent rolls, but they are so much more than that. Mom painstakingly makes the dough and chills it over night, rolls it out, rolls up, and cuts dozens of these little stinkers to be devoured. This is love, because I know my mother can think of plenty of "better" ways to spend her time and yet she makes these for me because she knows it wouldn't be the holiday without them. My favorite time to capture one of these treasures is right of the oven, when I will unroll it carefully so that it says in on piece. I will then tear out the soft parts, squish them together into a tight disc, and eat it while thinking about world peace and such.

What is a food that is special to your family and so ingrained into who you are that you would be lost without it? I'm curious.