Don’t Trifle with Tradition

I didn’t realize how traditional my family was until I tried to change them (the traditions, not the family).

I made a slight change to a favorite homemade salad dressing for a recent family picnic. To my great surprise the family actually noticed, and they definitely did not approve. The faintly accusatory mutters of “What did you do to the dressing?” were accompanied by suspicious stares from down the table.

I wasn’t trying to deceive them. Who knew they had palates sophisticated enough to detect a flavored olive oil instead of the extra virgin I usually use? Frankly, I’ve always been a bit suspicious that they even taste what they are eating. Usually they devour dinner like a plague of locusts, thank me for cooking, and clear off the table. But this modified salad dressing really threw them off stride, and they made it clear my improvisation was unwelcome.

A Traditional Family

It seems we are a traditional family when it comes to food. That doesn’t mean we are unadventurous eaters. We like trying new recipes and visiting new restaurants. But many holidays, birthdays or special occasions in our family have become associated with certain foods. We have gingerbread cake with lemon sauce on Halloween night. Homemade donuts on Thanksgiving morning. Chicken wing dip and layered taco salad for NFL draft day (yes, that’s a real holiday in our household). And it’s not Christmas if I don’t make all 14 varieties of Christmas cookies we’ve deemed “family favorites” each year.

Homemade foodstuffs are not the only tradition. We travel for food. Each February we make a pilgrimage to the Maple Tree Inn, a two and a half hour round trip drive for all-you-can-eat buckwheat pancakes and the best sausage in the region. We truck out to Ohio Amish country for apple fritters and strawberry pie. We cash in our coin jar for the occasional trip to a wickedly expensive steak house down south. And don’t even get us started on the glazed buttermilk donuts at the Breeze Inn mini-mart in Juneau, Alaska. Gotta have’em when we visit. It’s tradition.

It’s Not Just About the Food

Why are our food traditions so important? Not because we are fixated on eating, but because those foods are linked to precious family memories. Roasting hot dogs and marshmallows over the campfire for the cousins’ backyard campout. The midsummer reunion clambake with the “friendly” game of bocce that always lands someone in the pool. The birthday ambush that leaves frosting on your nose while you are trying to blow out your candles. We may gather for the food, but we want seconds of the memories.

In our family, eating is a relational experience. To be honest, sometimes we are pretty casual about our table manners. We think nothing of sharing bites off the same fork or sipping from one another’s glass. We lick pudding off the baby’s fingers and pretend not to notice when the kids double dip their potato chips. Put a pan of Grandma’s cacciatore on the table and we all swoop in like vultures to dunk our bread. The poor germaphobes among the family in-laws and outlaws have learned to adapt, or at least line up first at the buffet.

Food Equals Love

We joke that the family motto should be “Food is Love,” or perhaps “If you feed them, they will come.” My mom is a very conscientious hostess. Before you even hang up your coat she’s channeling her inner waitress and listing the daily specials. Would you like a cup of coffee or do you prefer tea? Do you want a cookie to dunk? There’s leftover meatloaf, how about a sandwich? We have ice cream in the freezer; maybe you’d like a milkshake? If nothing else appeals, she’ll be happy to make you an omelet. If you aren’t stuffing your face within ten minutes of arrival, she thinks you don’t love her. (The hollow-legged grandsons find this quirk especially endearing and are quick to offer their appetites to reassure her.)

The “Food is Love” maxim stems from my childhood as well. Growing up in a house with a single mom, four kids and no child support payments, we stretched our grocery money like molasses taffy. We didn’t starve, nor were we undernourished, but the budget didn’t allow for a lot of extras. So when Grandpa stopped over on Saturday morning with a bag of groceries and a saucepan of Grandma’s pasta that “just happened to be left over”, we knew we were loved.

That love is part of my heritage. It shaped my values and forged my family’s identity – who we are and what we stand for. I may still improvise on the family recipes (after all, it’s fun to try new varieties of old favorites), but I will never trifle with tradition.

Do you have quirky traditions involving food or other activities? Feel free to share in the comments below.