Looking back I realize that not all food memories are pleasant. When I was about twelve, my family drove up to Boston from Connecticut for my cousin’s bar mitzvah. One of my uncles was very generous and decided he would treat us all at a special French restaurant. I don’t think I’d ever had French food before and I remember tasting many different dishes that night. In those days, French cooking was very rich, heavy, and full of cream and alcohol; in fact, I think there was alcohol in almost everything I ate. Needless to say, by the end of that meal I was not feeling at all well. I’ll spare you any more details but let's just say it was many years before I entered a French restaurant again.
PS. My mom just reminded me of the rest of the story. On our way home from Boston we stopped for lunch at a Howard Johnson's restaurant. She remembers three kids looking deliriously happy, holding the giant menus and devouring french fries and burgers
Leslie
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