After getting married in 1978, John and I spent almost one year living in Tarrytown, N.Y., before being transferred to Houston, Texas in 1979. The first time my mother, Marilyn, came to visit me in Houston, she emerged from the plane looking like she was just arriving at Ellis Island with several shopping bags of food. We appreciated her concern for us, but it was hard not to laugh. She was correct in assuming there would not be a decent Italian butcher shop from which to purchase properly made Italian sausage and so we were delighted with the several pounds of sausage from Sarli’s Market in Chicago. I can’t remember what the other provisions were, but we were really amused by the several boxes of Uncle Ben’s Rice because the main plant for Uncle Ben’s was right down the road from us.
Over the years my father, my husband, and I, have had a good laugh about Marilyn’s Italian genes which compelled her to always be ready to provide the quality of food we were used to eating. This memory was inspired by my own actions this morning as I prepared to visit my two daughters for a couple of days. I have filled a huge canvass beach bag with two loaves of homemade bread, the remaining cookies from Easter, Bertolli olive oil (from Sam’s where it is considerably cheaper and will be a treat for Rebekah who can only afford to shop at Aldi), Romano cheese(also from Sam’s), and the ingredients for a wheat berry salad. I am my mother’s daughter and for that I am thankful.
How Envy Devours
23 hours ago