W1: Remembering Home

Like everyone, I have a few special foods that remind of me being at home and spending time with my family. The three that I will be discussing are pomegranates, bruschetta, and beef stroganoff. In addition, these foods are sources of pride, unlike the foods discussed in the piece by Janzen.

First off, I have considered pomegranates to be my favorite fruit and one of my favorite overall foods since they were introduced to me by my mother as far back as I can remember. Pomegranates, known as Chinese apples, have a thick outer skin that covers the thousands of juicy, pop-able, and seed-like fruit. Each seed is about half the size of a single M&M candy. I used to love sitting down to the tedious task of peeling open a pomegranate and working until I had gotten every last seed out and onto my plate, at which point I would start eating the bittersweet fruit.

Moreover, I can recall my mother, slicing up grape tomatoes, chives, and onions to make my grandmother’s special bruschetta recipe on a weekly basis. She would slice sourdough bread into little squares, spray them with olive oil, douse them with garlic salt, and then toss them into the oven to bake. It is my favorite side dish that my mother makes. She serves her most famous dish with anything from grilled chicken to spaghetti or alone, as the main dish. I will say that I have had bruschetta at many restaurants and a few places elsewhere, but there is something about my grandmother’s recipe that is unique, and I have never had better.

Last, but not least, my mother’s beef stroganoff is to die for. Although this food is a source of pride for me, and in no way a shame-based food like those listed in Janzen’s piece, it does have a rather peculiar name. Although, it is hard to pinpoint what exactly goes into this entrée, I know that the sauce is a combination of sour cream and cream of mushroom, which sounds less than appetizing, but the end result could not taste any better. I can remember back when I was younger, we would have beef stroganoff once a week, and I would never be able to have any leftovers because my brother, who liked this dish a little too much, would always beat me to it.