Food is a favorite topic for Mom, Dad, and their friends to talk about, no matter where they are. They talk about it at the pool in the afternoon.
“Phyllis, where do you want to eat tonight – Nana’s Nosh or Antonio’s?” Mom asks while slathering suntan lotion on her legs.
“Oh, Herb and I ate at Nana’s last night. They never brought us any pickles and we asked them about three times. Let’s go to Antonio’s instead,” Phyllis replies.
“That’s fine. Actually, Flo did mention to me that the service was going downhill at Nana’s. It’s a shame, too because they really do have the best matzo ball soup.” Mom says.
“You think so?” Phyllis says, “I like Bubbe’s soup much better.”
They talk about food when they are on the golf course.
“We’d better play an extra nine, Herb,” Dad says. “We’re eating at Antonio’s for dinner tonight.”
“Oh, you’re right. Thanks for reminding me. Gotta make room for that delicious New York cheesecake,” Herb answers.
They even talk about food while they are eating out.
“Ummm, this egg drop soup is delicious, and the noodles are extra crispy today. I can eat here again tomorrow,” Phyllis says one night at Wu’s Chinese Buffet.
“Phyllis, we’re eating at Barney’s tomorrow night, remember? They have that special with the all-you-can-stuff-your-face salad bar on Tuesday nights,” Mom reminds her.
“Oh yeah. You’re right. Maybe we’ll come back here the day after.”
A few days before I was set to visit Mom and Dad this year, Mom called me up and said, “We have to take you to Finnochio’s when you get here. They have the best chicken marsala. And it comes with a delicious Caesar salad, nice warm dinner rolls, and dessert – choice of pudding, ice cream, or cake.”
“Sounds good, Mom,” I muttered.
“Oh, and the portions are so huge. I usually take home half the chicken and eat it for lunch the next day. And I often try to sneak out one of those good rolls, too.”
“Sounds good, Mom,” I tried to fake enthusiasm.
“Oh, and the best part is,” she continued, “it’s only $7.99 for the whole meal. Can’t beat that price,” she chirped.
“Sounds good, Mom,” I said. For some reason, I just can’t seem to match Mom’s excitement over a piece of chicken. Maybe in 30 years.