Familial Food Fiends

Thinking back on Bacon Anti-Patterns, I realize that my brother isn’t the only malpractitioner in my family when it comes to food prep.

It would only be fair to first address my own crime, not being the one to cast the first stone and all that: I am absolutely incapable of handling hot drinks, I hate them all; I think my mouth is just too weak. Tea, chocolate, coffee, eggnog, you name it, if it’s steaming I just can’t drink it. Food isn’t supposed to be painful!

So in most cases I just sit there waiting for the beverage to cool to whatever level I deem mouth-friendly. When I’m making tea, I put ice cubes in it post-steep to cool it down. I’ll gladly accept a warm-ish chocolate or tea, but I’ve only ever enjoyed coffee cold.

My mom likes her steak well-done, and doesn’t renege on that preference. She fears illness and I can’t blame her since she’s a health worker.

None of her steak cooking preferences would matter to me if the same preferences weren’t forced upon us all. We grill in batches, and if the steaks don’t approach her personal level of doneness, she makes me put them back on the grill. The Fourth of July will be a travesty.

My dad makes his oatmeal with water. That’s fine, I think a lot of people do that, particularly lactose intolerant folks. But he just butchers the cooking process: He boils a large pot of water, then pours in the oats and waits a while for it to thicken.

I have never seen this backwards process anywhere else. It leads to a very strange texture that I can’t describe outside of the word gummy. I only thought it was normal until I became a big boy and started making my own oatmeal.¹

My sister doesn’t cook much so I can’t really think of anything to pin on her, and my brother has Bacon Anti-Patterns. Weird cooks all around this house.