I was raised in a bi-racial European/Asian household. My memory of food is made up mostly of homemade ethnic dishes from my mom's home, the Philippines. She raised my brother and I to always appreciate the food on our plates, and to eat up because there were "people starving who aren't as lucky as us". On my father's side I would hear stories from my grandfather of the second World War and how people were forced to eat boiled tulip bulbs to survive, so the eating up factor was thoroughly reinforced. But, it made me appreciate food, not just the quantity, but the quality. It taught me how not to be a picky eater and to appreciate all sorts of flavors and tastes. Now, as an adult, is has allowed me to be experimental with the flavors and textures of my cooking and really appreciate the ingredients I work with. I love all cuisines of the world, but my favorite food will always be mom's home made Filipino food.

I have very vague memories of my childhood (probably because nothing exciting happened to me when I was a kid! Lol...), but I distinctly remember in 8th or 9th grade making a conscious decision to eat less. Not because I wanted to lose weight, but because I was curious if I would still be hungry after eating less. I had always followed my father's example in eating (he has a super-high metabolism) and I have never had a very strong "full" reaction when eating.

By cutting much of my food consumption nearly in half, I lost about 15 pounds, stopped gaining weight after that, and learned that I could still be full. For the first time in my life, I actually paid attention to what my stomach was telling me. Unfortunately, all that worry and attention led to an easily upset stomach throughout high school and into college, but still, it stuck with me. I definitely have eyes bigger than my stomach, so I still have to make an effort to take less, but I'm almost never still hungry after that portion. And if I am? I take seconds! :)

My family were definitely members of the "clean plate club." I have been told that as a child I would eat about half of my food and then want to leave the table to go play. But I wanted to come back to my food later. So I would tell my mom to "guard my food from Dad," because he was a big eater (but thin and athletic - why didn't I get those genes?). Of course, I invariably ended up playing for at least an hour and when I came back, the table was cleared and the food put away. Perhaps this is why I started to clean my plate? :)

Great discussion topic, by the way.

Does 64lb give you an idea how food has influenced my life?

"we're going to start off by telling our life stories from the point of view of food"
i hardly think food has a point of view.

having said that, i love food. i love shopping for it locally, cooking it and, of course, eating it.

i was raised in a polish household, by parents who were born shortly after the war. while i was never forced to clean my plate, wasting food was (and still is) a big no no. it drives me crazy to see people order in a restaurant, pick at it half-heartedly, and then refuse a doggie bag.

i am hugely in favour of local seasonal eating, and since we moved to vancouver island, have found it far easier to put that philosophy into practice.

I love this idea and am looking forward to hearing more about it upon your return.

Does not directly address your questions but - Have a durable memory of the Central CA mountains and food.
Morning, camping, snow, bacon cooking in an iron skillet on a camping stove. One piece was stolen while frying right out of the skillet by a California Jay. There was still plenty left for us to go with the toast and eggs. Hope the bird enjoyed it as much as we did.

Your post reminded me of when I had to decide what to bring to eat for my first couple of true group back packing excursions in CA. Since we were mostly beginners we had to decide if we wanted to try out those packaged dehydrated "meals" or try something on our own. We could only add boiling water since it was the no fires time of the season. I notice that i eat/crave a lot less when I'm camping/back packing. Also, when your cold and tired, anything hot tastes good!

Unless I'm mistaken, isn't that a picture of Green Gulch?

I remember when I first went to college, oohing and ahhing over how _good_ the dining hall food was, while my friends looked on, mystified. It finally dawned on me that >>my mom wasn't a very good cook.<< And my mom loves to cook. *sigh*

I taught/am teaching myself to cook, and it seems to me that this parallels the way that my adult life has been about discovering myself . . . my mother is very rigid, cold, and controlling, and my siblings and I grew up being what she wanted us to be, rather than being ourselves. It's taken me many years, but I've found that I'm nothing like what she tried to make me--a copy of herself. She learned to cook 7 main dishes when she got married (one for each day of the week) and her cooking hasn't changed much since: flavorless, overcooked meat and potatoes. I make stir fries, pesto, pizza . . . .

Thank you for an interesting post. Lots of food for thought here. :)

What a thought-provoking post! I think I'll have to write an entire essay on this.

the first meal i ever cooked was when i was about eight years old; progresso chicken rice soup. not very exciting, but i remember being so, so proud that i cooked it all by myself. i'm slowly gaining more recipes and more favorite foods and more cooking experiences, more knowledge in the kitchen, more tools, more understanding of how to use said tools, but this post brought me right back to that warm summer day that i proudly ate a meal that i cooked for myself. thanks for giving me a chance to go back there <3