Shepherd’s Pie
7 Dec

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Years ago I made this concoction I called Shepherd’s Pie. It wasn’t actually Shepherd’s Pie. It was some kind of mashed potato-topped meatloaf. But I didn’t know that. Or maybe I did. Anyway, I served it to my family around twice a month, and they loved it.

Fast forward to last night. Every week we have family dinner at my house, which means that my married children and their children come over grandma and grandpa’s house to eat, play, and have loud conversations. Usually my daughter, daughter-in-law and I trade off cooking each week because, if the men are in charge, it means takeout - Chinese or pizza. Well, last night my daughter-in-law made Shepherd’s Pie, and her husband, my son, complained that it didn’t taste like mine, that “she didn’t make it right.” Naturally, she took offense at that remark.

I could certainly relate. For years I fought the ghost of my mother-in-law’s “superior cooking.” What is it about men remembering how awesome their mom’s food was?

Of course, that’s not always the case. Recently my brother remarked that our mother wasn’t a good cook. “What?” I exclaimed. “She was a great cook!”

“Are you kidding?” he said. “She burned everything.”  

Not true. But even if it was, I liked her burnt food.

Is it our memories that are in question or just what they symbolize? Because for me, my mom’s cooking felt like a warm, familiar gift, full of crunchy love. Apparently it didn’t strike my brother that way.

I can already predict the future where my grand kids compare their spouse's cooking to what they're eating now. Good or bad, accurate or inaccurate, they’ll be connecting more to a feeling than to remembered taste. And whether their mothers inaccurately named dishes or burnt food in an endearing way, their memories are likely both to confuse and amuse their spouses.

Unless, of course, they just remember their heroic dads bringing home Chinese food or pizza.

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