the dishes of my life

When I was at my parents’ house in the Detroit suburbs over Thanksgiving, I had an intense moment of nostalgia when I pulled out two cone-shaped plastic bowls — one orange and one black — that my parents still use. I remember eating ice cream out of them as a little girl, curled up in our plush beige recliner watching a movie. It’s amazing that a simple dish can transport you to your childhood in an instant.

I feel the same about this set (below) of white serving dishes that my mom loves. And the leftovers she put in them: Mexican chicken and rice with salsa and four cheeses. Grilled chicken, wild rice and broccoli. These meals — along with her delicious wide-noodle homemade chicken noodle soup — will always remind me of her. Just like Sunday evening grilled tuna with honey barbecue sauce and Christmas morning omelets and Pillsbury cinnamon rolls will always remind me of my dad.

And how thankful I am for both of them that I never wanted for food.

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