Blog-TOWER OF BABELHow did we survive 35 Tanglewood Dr?
That is what my sister would ask me all the time. My mother had a really strange way of storing food items. Even if zip-locks were invented in the 1960's, they would not have been used in the Dwyer house. We always had a lot of food. There were 5 of us, my brother Bill, my sister, myself and my mom and dad.
My mom was a mood chef. If she was in a good mood, there would be freshly baked pies, cakes, paellas, breads and soups. If down and out in waterbury, she would smoke 2 packs of Kent cigarettes, drink copious cups of Sanka coffee. We would then get TV dinners. My dinner always had stray bright green peas in my brownie or apple cobbler. We never questioned this. But we all did question something else. My mom was missing the food handlers gene. If we were a restaurant, we would have been shut down.
There were opened cans of vegetables and fruits in the refrigerator, milk was always left out on the counter. Crisco in the can, was put, uncovered, back in the cupboard. Leftovers stayed out on the counter for days. We would find canned peaches, rusted and bulging, in the back pantry. Some stuff would be so old, the label was from the decade prior. Opened saltines, graham crackers and oatmeal, just in the box with the flap open would litter the cabinet. Along with moths in the flour and wilted vegetables that looked like root beer had been poured on them, in the crisper.
My absolute favorite thing was to look at the mold process on the orange marmalade and grape jelly. Grape jelly actually turns grey after mold has been on it for 6 months. There were always dishes in the sink, in old water. There was on cutting board for meat, fish, chicken, cheese, veggies and fruit. My mom would take a torn, grey damp rag from the sink, and just wipe it off. Paper towels were never used. The sponge used to clean the floor, was used on the counter. Lord knows where else it was used.
We used to joke with one another about the freezer in the garage. There was like a whole cow frozen for YEARS in that thing. There was always a smell coming from that wreck. My mom had dropped a leg of lamb, behind it, and forgot about it. I would never go in the garage alone, I thought there was a dead body out there if I did go, I would breath into my sleeve, almost like biological warfare.
The generator always threatened death, and finally it did one hot summer day, just like today. 90 degrees, deadly and humid. Blood started to ooze out of its floor, and I wanted to hire a film crew. We never really knew what my mom did with the contents, but there were a lot of stew, shepherd's pie, and soups for the summer months. Thank god I became a vegetarian hippie that year, or I would have been extinguished by a pork chop gone awry.
How many ways did the Dwyer children cheat death? Many. Now I wrap, and double wrap, date, and sign in triplicate everything. It is like NYC evidence room, my kitchen. No of us passed this trait on. BUT, to this day, I still smell everything before I eat it, and seafood is out of the question for me. I have childhood kitchen scars. And my sister still asks, how did we survive the 35?