tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37473961.post5052550044342578979..comments2023-09-26T06:28:55.086-07:00Comments on Play with food: Food memories we'd rather forgetDeborah Dowdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00572471201444889836noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37473961.post-21026006044473397872007-02-20T07:16:00.000-08:002007-02-20T07:16:00.000-08:00Isn't that the truth!My Mom's first and last foray...Isn't that the truth!<BR/><BR/>My Mom's first and last foray into gardening was with eggplants. Normally, she has a black thumb, but these thrived and soon covered the entire plot of earth!<BR/><BR/>We had eggplant everyday for what seemed like forever. It's only been in the past few years that I was even able to attempt eating eggplant again. <BR/><BR/>thanks for the memories!s'kathttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00608290084940445730noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37473961.post-4644477858016921432007-02-19T13:04:00.000-08:002007-02-19T13:04:00.000-08:00Ooh, she had the dry-cure ham.I remember my grandm...Ooh, she had the dry-cure ham.<BR/><BR/>I remember my grandmother, whom I lived with for several years, would cook okra. Not fried, mind - she'd just boil it and put it in a bowl on the table, looking like a lump of green slugs and smelling like vegetable death. Grammaw was and is a terrific cook, but either she really just liked the boiled okra or she didn't feel like futzing around with frying it.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com