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Strange Family Food Traditions

Helvete said:
Slightly off topic but I have a fondue story.
 
On New Year's Eve 1999, awaiting the new millennium we had some friends over for dinner and had some fondue set up.  One of the fondue pots had the cooking oil in it for cooking the chunks of meat...well it caught fire at some point just before we all sat down to eat.  My dad in his infinite wisdom rushes over and grabs a glass of water and throws it in the pot.  The result was pretty impressive as it created a pillar of fire that shot up to the ceiling and knocked a lot of the flaming oil over onto the table.  not even a second later one of the cats we had climbed all the way up my dad's body like it was scaling a tree, did a backflip off of him and ran like a bat out of hell down the stairs to the basement.  In the meantime my mother had already grabbed a pot lid and smothered out the flames.  That table still has burn marks on it and it happens to be the prep table in my office area where I pack up all my pepper seeds.
 
If this wasn't so long...it'd be my new signature.
 
AWESOME. STORY.
 
:clap:
 
I was paddled, but it was over before I was out of elementary school ...

In the final two years, they called your parents for permission first.

I remember hearing my mom say "Yes, please, do it ... and, Thank You!" ...
 
grantmichaels said:
I was paddled, but it was over before I was out of elementary school ...

In the final two years, they called your parents for permission first.

I remember hearing my mom say "Yes, please, do it ... and, Thank You!" ...
and the neighbors/friends parents had permission back in the day lol
 
SavinaRed said:
and the neighbors/friends parents had permission back in the day lol
 
It's pretty liberal where I grew up, and I can't remember any of my friends parents spanking me, but I can recall them calling my parents to pick me up after we got into some shit - more than once ...
 
Lucky Dog Hot Sauce said:
Yeah - beef juices are not strange at all. At a restayrant I'll often mop up with bread or use mashed potatoes as a means to mop it up.
 
To clarify, the strange looks I get when I tell people about our family's chuck roasts aren't for the roast itself, but for the entire jar of horseradish used. 
 
I had an uncle who was a teacher in a small town school. When he died, people flew in from all over the country for his funeral. It was astounding to see the lines of cars of people trying to get into the funeral home to pay their last respects. What my aunt thought was going to be a one-hour affair turned into many, many hours. It was interesting - many of the men talked about getting paddled by my uncle when they were kids, but they also told how a) they knew they earned it, b) my uncle talked with them both before and after, and c) my uncle always gave them a hug when it was over. Every last one of them said they not only did not mind being paddled by him, but also that they knew through it all that he really, deeply cared about them. Every last one of them felt like they were "his kids". Our society actually has done a great disservice to our kids by refusing to discipline them. So many kids these days do not feel loved and are quick to say that their parents don't care. Times changing are not always for the better. The hundreds of people who attended my uncle's funeral can attest to that.
 
Back on topic: I grew up in "shrimp and crab country". When my dad decided it was time for a crab dinner he'd take us all to this one park that butted up against a bayou. We'd each be given a stick with a string on it, and on the end of the string was a chicken neck. Go to the edge of the water, stick the chicken neck in, and shortly a crab would take hold. Only thing was my younger sister was terrified when she caught a crab and would start running. She never dropped the stick, just held onto it as tightly as she could and ran and screamed her little heart out, with no awareness of where she was running. My dad would always take off running after her to ensure she didn't get onto the road or something, and often the rest of us had to go chasing after her, too. After this scene repeated itself a handful of times, you'd think he'd stop giving her a stick, or at least would work closely enough with her to stop the running before it happened (and hopefully help her realize that crab wasn't going to let go of the chicken neck so there was no need to try to run from it), but no. I have five brothers and sisters, and all of us (except her) would try to convince my dad not to give her a stick to no avail. Year after year this went on. Just insane. By the time enough crabs were caught we'd worn ourselves out chasing after my sister and couldn't wait to eat. Now I get crab at restaurants and am always grateful not to have to repeat that "tradition" before my meal. Yeah, just had crab for dinner, so thought of it again. Not quite on topic, but closer than paddlings! ;)  
 
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