After my post yesterday I was thinking more about different food we ate as kids and do we still enjoy them as much as adults. I think that everyone has a special meal that their mother made or that that grandmother made when they would go to visit. I know that I have mine. My mother is a good cook, and my grandmother was a good cook.

One of my favourite dishes that my grandmother used to make was pineapple chicken. It was always there for the holidays, and even when I would go to Montreal to visit, it was always waiting for me. It was warm, and sweet and comforting. It was made with love, and you could taste it.

She never really taught me how to make it, and the recipe is a bit sketchy (as I am sure a lot of your grandparent’s recipes were). Who really needed to know “EXACTLY” what to do, they were the ones making it each time, so they knew what to do.

I tried to make it this year. I had the chicken cut up the way she used to do it. I had the bag of flour and seasoning mixed, and I followed the best I could. I liked it when it came out of the oven (of course I had to eat a piece), but wasn’t sure how the rest of the family would feel.

On Rosh Hashanah night, Mark sits down at the table and says, “Pineapple chicken, who made this?” He then proceeded to eat a few pieces. That made me feel good. My family did enjoy it, but it wasn’t THE pineapple chicken from my childhood. Or maybe that is exactly how it was supposed to taste, and the memory of the anticipation of my grandmother making it for me is what made it taste so incredible.

I know it wasn’t as good as my grandmothers….practice makes perfect as they say. I don’t know if there will every be such as thing as perfect when you already had what you remember to be the best, but I will try again and see if I can make it like hers.