But it reminds me of eating pizza with my Dad and asking him to pass the "stinky cheese." Sometimes I do things I don't actually enjoy, such as eating powdered Parmesan, just because it makes me remember. When you're away from home it is the silly little things that give great comfort.
When I was a little girl we would go to The City (Chicago) for various errands and we would usually stop in Rolling Meadows to visit my Grandmother. Gram more often than not had a coupon for Garibaldi's Pizza. My parents were the sort who would drive 20 miles out of their way to get 20% off. So, we would go to get pizza. It was always a blustery, warm day, and when we left the restaurant the glowing orange sun was always sleepily setting behind the suburban buildings. We would always sit in the same booth, in the corner by the bathroom. The walls on either side were covered in nostalgic decorations: circus posters, a miniature rocking horse, toy airplanes, an old fire fighter's helmet. I would always stand on the booth seat and my mother would tell me to stop acting like a little monkey. I would make my monkey face and sit down. We would talk. We would laugh. We would pass the powdered Parmesan around the table a hundred times.
I'm sure you've noticed that this is a rather glorified description of dinner. My memory has grown soft because my heart feeds it these kinds of picturesque details that are reserved for fond childhood memories. This particular memory is not a very profound one, but it is a memory I return to often and one I was thinking about today. For old times' sake, I ordered a "pizza" for lunch today and dusted it with Parmesan powder.
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| Keep the Parm on the DL. |
Tell me about your random acts of comfort in a comment!
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