Parental Guidance
There’s one bit of advice that my late father gave me when I was too young to scrutinize advice, yet it remains something I’ve neither forgotten nor defied: “Don’t eat canned stewed tomatoes.”
He worked for the American Can Company, long since defunct, but at the time was one of the region’s largest suppliers of canned goods.
One day he looked at me with his stark blue eyes and told me all about it. “Little holes can get poked into cans–microscopic–that means very very very tiny. You can’t see them, but germs can. Most times it’s okay, except when germs get into stewed tomatoes. That’s when they turn into *killers. Never eat stewed tomatoes from a can and you will be alright.”
(*The conversation well predated Attack of the Killer Tomatoes–if you are wondering.)
Although this intel was shared with me by the same person who’d told me about “Hill Cows” (who are bred with legs shorter on one side than another so they won’t tip on slopes), that your shadow will sometimes keep walking after you have stopped, and Seagull beaks are a delicacy, I was certain that nothing was as it should be in the world of canned stewed tomatoes. Naturally, my imagination and subconscious combined to build the subject into a phobia. I’d occasionally dream of canned stewed tomatoes on the shelf; specifically of that one can, for ages lost in the shadows, with a tiny hole open to microscopic monsters. I would see it, all sweaty, swollen, pulsing, reaching critical mass. Then the label would split like hot pants on a Hippo–and just as it exploded, I’d wake with a start.
“Never eat canned stewed tomatoes,” I whispered in the dark.
As an adult it has been easy to keep the ban. I don’t order spaghetti or cacciatore or tomato based soups in restaurants–I used to be in food service, I know about the giant cans of stewed tomatoes they have in the back. Naturally, I do not bring nasty foods such as stewed tomatoes or sweetbreads into my kitchen (I figure you really gotta be hungry for the latter). And although there stands a chance that some stewed tomatoes may have slipped past the guard, none have ever been invited.
But as a child, my prohibition was tested by my mother after my parents’ divorce. She was the type of person who’d add stewed tomatoes to spaghetti to prove she had gotten over a man. The first time she did it I went on strike and was sent to bed without dessert due to my refusal to heed the command “just eat the shit, already.” The second time, a year or so later (also the last), got me sent to bed as well, but I was prepared. Either her third or fourth husband was in office at the time (“Tom” or “Troy”–something with a T). And when I saw the goop on my plate, I repeated what Dad had said about stewed tomatoes. I was going to describe my recurring dream about them, but I was already shown the expected, richly deserved red card. But I didn’t care, while in my room filling up on the cache of candy bars I had hidden inside my winter boots, I knew that the stewed tomatoes wouldn’t get me.
As organisms we are what we eat, but as personalities we are what we refuse to eat, and as writers we must effectively describe the difference between the two. And as you see, no segue is too far out or half-assed for my use. Still, I wonder if any of you still hold onto some of the useful “advice” shared by a parent?
At the end are lists of what and what I will not eat.
The week that was opened with yet another top rerun by Tom Sheehan. Flesh of An Unwanted Fish is yet another mark of quality for a man in his 97th year, who is still sharp as ever despite the plagues of failing vision and age–which fail to dampen his wit or love for the written word.
I believe that anyone who has ever commuted on public transportation can identify with JD Strunk’s Missed Connections. I commuted for years by ferry and I understand the weird little backstories we make up for familiar faced strangers. This is fertile ground for something that is extremely innocuous getting blown wildly out of proportion. JD nails this circumstance perfectly.
I was up on Tuesday with It Had to Be Ewe. Sheep are fine persons though they tend to vote, eat, and go to the movies in blocks.
Sparrow Grace debuted on the site Wednesday. When the Poor Have Nothing More is beautiful, harrowing, depressing and damned true. This is the sort of world we live in and always have. How can we claim to be evolved when this sort of thing goes on in front of us, and yet the candidates for offices avoid the topic as though it has cholera? Abduct and force congresses and parliaments to live like this for a while–that might do it.
Another thoughtful piece arrived with We Were Nothing and Everything by Lydia Baham. Normally “me and you” stories do not thrive in our slightly cynical atmosphere. But this one is so well written that it can survive any climate. Exquisitely timed and restrained.
Ted Gross closed the week with Ray. At first a bad diagnosis appears to be the launching point for a revenge tale. But it is much more than that, a humane and articulate piece, which says more than the sum of its parts.
These are tremendously diverse tales (although I think the d-word is greatly overused anymore) in scope and tone. Each story is as different as the writer who wrote it.
I remind you that we are always welcoming new features for what we now call Writers Read (formerly Auld Author), which appears in the Sunday features on a rotating basis. This opens the slot for well known writers as well as the obscure. We also want to thank all the new commenters on the site in the last few weeks, especially Dale, Gerry and Karen, out there as well as continuing first rate contributions by Bill, David, Doug, Paul and Stephen. That keeps the site alive almost as the works themselves. These are excellent and thoughtful observations that I have no doubt are greatly appreciated by the authors
I close with my list of foods that make me an organism and those I avoid mainly due to my personality. (Imagine a crude pyramid with three, two and one–hence six). I am prepared to take the hit for my disdain of number five, list two. Please add your own favorites and villains.
Leila’s Favorite Food Pyramid
- The Pie Group: Sweet or savory, as long as there is flaky crust I’m all in.
- Pork Cheops (hahahaha! Oh, never mind)
- The Waffle
- The Cheeseburger
- The Deep Fried Group
- The Cookie Group
Evil Pyramid to be Avoided
- Canned Vegetables Group (especially spinach as well as the aforementioned tomato atrocity).
- Raw Eggs
- The “Organ” Meat Group
- The Durian (I got a whiff of one while working at a restaurant in Seattle–Jesus God people eat that?)
- Butterscotch (I am aware of the small small minority that puts me in. I love caramel, but butterscotch, in my mind, goes too damn far)
- Boiled Mustard Greens
Leila
literally stories 
I have to admit that I do use canned tomatoes but I fully acknowledge that they are one of those things that can hide sneaky death dealing desires. Like mushroom hunters who insist they know which are safe – until they are vomitting and all of that stuff I just don’t want to take the risk. Mind I do prefer sauce made from the fresh veggies anyway. I am a faddie eater, I feel no shame. My body, my taste buds and my gag reflex. I won’t eat soggy sandwiches. Mayonnaise is fine with eggs and potato salad but don’t go spreading that on my bread. Nothing with slippy slimy bits and nothing that smells weird. I love crusty bread, crispy bacon, nice crunchy pie crust. I used to enjoy a cream cake but I stopped eating them a while ago and now can’t abide ’em. Love fresh veggies and I have to say that if they weren’t a plot by the devil to coat my arteries with gunk I would eat chips (french fries and crisps) every day. I am basically a pleb in the food line. Oh yes, yorkshire puddings like my gran used to make with beef gravy – but nobody can make them like that and she’s long gone. 😦 Great post as always, dd
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Hi Diane
I forgot the bread and roll group and the butter and jam. Such an oversight!
Thank you,
Leila
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Hi Leila
I loved this week’s essay on the perfidious nature of the loathsome canned stewed tomato; however, I LOVE the critters, particularly in my chili (which, if left in the pan will, I admit, leave a hole in the metal). Canned stewed tomatoes are just ordinary tomatoes, but with more sugar: they’re perfect.
I laughed out l oud at “slope cows.” My own late father used to take me to task for my wanting to drink coffee: “It’ll turn your toes black, son…” That stopped working after I turned 25; I was born AT night, not LAST night, I told him then.
I disagreed with almost every particular on your GO TO and DON’T GO TO lists of foods: don’t like pie, don’t like chops, but I CAN choke down a chesseburger, or “CB” as we used to call them in the restaurant industry — I too am a veteran of food service. The caveat is that the CB cannot be from McDonald’s. Ugh. Besides, the last time I enjoyed a Big Mac — the exception to the non-Micky D’s rule — I had to take out a home equity loan to afford the sandwich, it had grown so expensive. I remember when they first came out — they cost forty nine cents!
I love the “organs”: among my favorites are chicken gizzards, hearts, livers (both beef and chicken, swimming, ironically, in canned stewed tomatoes). Though not a big fan of deep fat frying, other than for the essentials (donuts) I eat stir fry almost every night.
And finally, I LIKE butterscotch, but not those hard little candies, because I inevitably chew them and they stick like ticks to your teeth.
Thanks again, Leila, for a delightful piece of writing!
bill
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Thank you Bill
You can never trust the father brand of humor or humour, but I am pleased it still exists.
Love chili and I am certain that some canned tomatoes have got in through it, like the Trojan Horse.
Thank you again!
Leila
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My dad’s (gold standard) guidance was ‘never volunteer’ – wisdom that he’d come-by the hard way in WWII. I also recall being impressed by the advice of a friend’s mother: ‘no good deed ever goes unpunished.’
With you all the way on the importance of pies and would like to add kippers (but NEVER kipper fillets – an abomination).
Sadly, these days, the food-to-avoid list has to include all those delicious edible mushroom varieties. Indulgence now results in near-terminal flatulence.
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Hello Mick
Ooh, kippers are good. My mother did give me useful advice in the kitchen. She pointed at the blade on a can opener and told me it is the dirtiest place in a home.
I love it at work when we were asked to volunteer in alphabetical order.
Thank you,
Leila
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We eat canned diced tomatoes occasionally, and I’ll now choose to believe the dicing slaughters any germs. We don’t eat beef or pork because my wife grew up on a farm; she’d get attached to the calves and piggies … later taken to the slaughterhouse. That even happened to her pet duck, but I haven’t given up fowl. Good post and recap.
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Hi David
I cannot eat Duck due to a pet we had. We also had a belligerent Goose that I would have gladly eaten.
Yes, knives are hell on germs–or is that Germans?
Thank you!
Leila
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Leila
My parental version of hill cows – sidehill gauchos (don’t ask me why) who adapt to always going around the hill in the same direction. They may have started as normal deer, but their habit caused the evolution. It may be a NW thing.
More parental – cold weather causes colds.
Food – If it is healthy and can’t stand the taste. Unhealthy fine. New faves – flavored vodka and chocolate martini (false advertising – really wine).
Keep On Mocking In The Freak World, Mr. Mirth or Myth can’t remember, watch out for men in black.
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Thank you Doug for pointing out the non relationship between cold weather and colds. I went around and around with a friend over that. Tried to explain germs like to be inside gathered around the hearth too.
Go figure… keep rocking mirthfully
Leila
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Leila
I came from an Irish American family in NYC. That meant my mother concocted a menu totally prepared on the stove top. i.e., boiled in water or the infused liquid the thing came in. Cans of half collapsed peas, beans [often the dreaded ‘waxed’], and spinach were boiled in what it came packed in. I won’t discuss the meat.
But I will add, we were all required, except my mother, to drink the boiled vegetable water directed from the pot as a special ‘tea’ — with pea water at the low end and spinach water at the high end for its ‘iron.’
If our garbage were compared with the Italian family next door, it would be Coleman’s 3 trash cans of tin vs. 1 can of leaves and husks.
Words of wisdom? My father told me not to take Patrick for conformation. “People will think you’re Irish.” And, “The only difference between Blacks and Whites is, Black people are nicer.”
Both insights have proven true. — Gerry
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Hi Gerry
My mother was a ward of the Catholic church growing up in Canada. Her confirmation name was Bernadette, which she used on a fake ID to get into American bars upon emigration. Her time with the nuns kept us from attending church, so there was a silver lining for her kids.
She discovered stove top stuffing but got over it.
Those canned waxed beans had no taste whatsoever. An “invisible” food. Actually, I think kernel corn held up the best.
Thank you for your comment here and for the great ones you have been sharing daily.
Leila
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Leila
I remember the canned corn, too. It was the best, although judging by the yellowness of the water it was packed in, I wonder how much corn was actually left in the kernels. Gerry
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Leila
My mother did give me plenty of bad advice, but now that she’s passed on I mostly remember the good stuff. From as early as I can remember, she told me to avoid the herd mentality and to “be yourself” as much as possible (late ’60s/early ’70s). And she imparted this lesson in all kinds of ways, including the way she lived her own days. She was also a great storyteller and would tell stories based on Shakespeare, Greek Mythology, and especially the Christian Bible (both “old” and new testaments) before I entered kindergarten (and after). Because of this, I still consider JC to be the smartest human who ever lived. “Runner-ups” include Mother Mary, Mary Magdalene, Mohammad, Lao Tzu and Buddha (And, especially, a bunch of humans we don’t know about.)
Later, bad advice included comb your hair, cut your hair, quit smoking and drinking, and stop hanging out with those people (and also stop wearing the John Lennon t-shirt every single day). (The drinking and smoking advice later caught up with me.)
Regarding food, I used to eat whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it. Including, but not limited to: hamburgers, cheeseburgers, steaks, French fries, biscuits and gravy, bacon (by the pound), and every manner of sweet, from donuts to pancakes to ice cream, muffins and candy bars. I treated ketchup (despite the dangers of processed tomatoes) like it was a vegetable. Then I hit a wall and was given the doctoral advice “change your ways or die” (the prospect of becoming paralyzed from another stroke was MUCH more scary than dying).
I too used to work in food service. In my case it was in the lower orders. Including delivering pizzas in bad neighborhoods during graduate school (robbed many times).
Thanks again, Leila, for more brilliant, INSPIRATIONAL, spirited writing!! (The character sketch of your father in your essay was so well drawn.) Hugh is a brilliant reader, and absolutely right. You know how to simplify the endless complexities (in a good way) in order to communicate.
Dale
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Hi Dale
Thank you very very much.
It’s interesting how much parental advice begins with the word “Don’t.” I have no kids but I remember watching my nieces when they were young and “Stop that”; “Don’t” and other negative items I promised myself that I would never say when I grew up flew out of me as though I were born to say them. That gave me sympathy for parents: by the time the kids learn how to talk they will have broken your will long ago.
Eat what thou wilt!
Leila
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Leila
I also want to say that I love your names.
Leila because of “Layla” and Lord Byron.
Irene because of Irene Adler. And “Goodnight, Irene,” the song by Lead Belly.
“Sometimes I live in the country. / Sometimes I live in the town. / Sometimes I get a great notion / To jump in the river and drown.”
Dale
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Irene Adler is an ace because (as said by Watson, whom I paraphrase) “Holmes doesn’t speak as cleverly about women anymore.”
Thank you again!
Leila
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Mmmmmm… Durian!!
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Thank you Marco
Maybe I ought to cut durian the same break I gave natto. I was repulsed by the fermented beans, but I did try it to make certain I hated it.
Leila
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Well… Durian DOES smell like really bad, old, fermented sweat socks. No denying that. But, odd as it sounds, fresh durian off a cart in Indonesia tastes sublime. I know, a very weird contradiction, but there it is.
m
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That’s what I hear. Told you can’t trust the smell. I probably will try it sometime, as long as some other restaurant employee preps it.
Leila
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Hi Leila,
I have a very liberal attitude to food, I’ll try it and if I like it, I’ll eat it again.
Tinned tomatoes, I use in so many ways simply because I like to keep the fresh good ones to eat either in salads or sandwiches.
If I make a sauce (I’ve been told I really do make a mean three cheese and tomato sauce – Even though I don’t eat it) I will use tinned tomatoes but I hate if you get the tinned version in a breakfast…Just in-case you don’t know a Scottish Breakfast consists of – Link, flat sausage, bacon, beans (So wrong!!) fried tomatoes, (Real ones) tattie scones, haggis, hash browns, (Wrong again!!!) egg of your choice, black pudding, mushrooms and toast…Washed down with a pint of lager.
Is it surprise that we have the most fucked up hearts in the world??
Maybe you should be more worried if there is ever a thing such as seagull beaks in tomato sauce???
The slope cows, I think I’ve seen that somewhere before, maybe Python????
Favourite foods is everything that I like from Foire Gras (Sp??) to Pot Noodles!!
The only things that I don’t like are ratatouille, black olives and really blue, yoan, powdery cheese!
Superb as always Leila.
Hugh
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Hello Hugh
Lager is very good with bacon, eggs and hash browns at a “daybreak” tavern for graveyard workers. I know you understand the graveyard shift and that phrase “five o’clock somewhere” has no meaning for us on the overnight shift. (I recall an excellent biscuit recipe you once shared.)
I never rate another society’s food choices. Not when an apple fritter is a mainstay of my morning diet.
Thanks again!
Leila
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Really interesting and mildly unsettling about the stewed tomatoes. As you know, I have a fairly major list of things I no longer eat, but used to treat my guts like a dustbin for anything at all years back – I can list snails, camel, ostrich, and to my shame, dog, to the list of ingredients that have travelled through my digestive system. Also, thanks for another great week of stories.
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Hello Paul
I once thought it tasty to eat pop rocks and drink soda at the same time. Double whammy, digestive system and teeth.
Thank you again!
Leila
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