No one is perfect, especially when it comes to food. We all make mistakes and when it involves food sometimes it can be pretty embarrassing.
The Stone Age
“After visiting the Grand Canyon and Hoover Dam, we swung south to catch some of the historic Route 66 and the Mother Road museum in Kingman Arizona. Before we left we visited Mr. D’s, a famous retro Route 66 burger and soda joint. I ordered and ate their huge cheeseburger and fries, the cheeseburger was a gloriously dripping and juicy monstrosity and needless to say, I left Mr.D’s pleasantly stuffed. As we headed East across the desert the good feelings began to wane as general gastrointestinal malaise set in. I scanned the horizon for any sign of a rest stop, but there was nothing but brown, flat desert in all directions. As we all know, these things always get worse and the discomfort quickly exacerbated into the warning bells of an imminent gut bomb. Pressing on eastward, with the speedometer needle quivering at 90 I frantically begged for any tree, shrub, anything at all as I became convinced that Satan had hatched that cheeseburger into an angry, live scorpion in my lower gut. After what seemed like an eternity, tiny dots appeared on the horizon as we approached Seligman Arizona and some semblance of civilization. An Indian Trading Post. After disembarking, I was convinced that I was not going to make it, having foolishly eaten my way back to infancy. Hunched over like a suma wrestler, I tersely uttered ‘rest room’ to the Native American clerk, who smiled knowingly at my obvious discomfort. ‘Round back’ she said. Summoning all my pucker power, I proceeded through stacks of useless souvenirs and through the store to what I envisioned to be the end of my misery, a clean, cool porcelain and tile rest room…..What I encountered ’round back’ was a scene reminiscent of the scene in the movie Trainspotting (1996). The rest room was a rest room in theory only. There was no door on this chamber of horrors, no door on the toilet stall, no toilet seat on the toilet, no toilet paper and two bikers were shooting up at the sink. Most of the events that followed are too shocking for disclosure in this forum. Eventually I made it to a kinder, gentler rest stop where I was able to burn my clothes and clean up. Soon after, I was leaving this h*llhole of a community, cursing, but more comfortable, with only the dubious satisfaction of being confident that I degraded their plumbing back into the Stone Age.” Source
Chicken?
“This beautiful question reminded me of my our First Flight from Delhi to Guwahati. A family holiday tour to north east and we were both very enthusiastic to our first Airplane journey. It was an Air India flight and my brother dominantly took the window seats explaining that he will have to secretly take pictures and I agreed. Then came the FOOD TIME. the Air hostess asked for our choice regarding veg or non veg. We both die hard lover of non veg food Kept guessing the menu.We were finally served with some boneless chicken curry and roti’s and yes, we realized It was one the best chicken curry we would have ever tasted. Then came the special Moment which Our family still never forgets. I heard a Voice which sounded with utmost confidence. ‘ma’am, Can I get some more Chicken’. I, who was busy enjoying the food realized it was him asking for more chicken.Our parents who were one seat ahead turned their heads and smiled. The Air India Air Hostess was dressed in very traditional looking clothing. who was almost the more than the age of my mother smiled at him and went on. meanwhile I tried to make a deal that he will share half of his food which arrives as a return of favor for window seat. We Kept waiting……And realized she is not bringing. My Brother looked at me and I couldn’t stop laughing and neither my parents. When she again came to collect the plates my brother tried to avoid eye contact with her but she said in a lovely tone ‘my son is same your age beta and loves chicken like you’ and went. So many years went to this Incident but till today whenever he is about to board a flight, my father sarcastically suggest him not to ask for chicken (one of his best dad jokes).” Source
Colorful Mini Marshmallows
“I don’t know if this applies but it was extremely embarrassing. I was invited to a colleague’s church. It was very modern and felt much like attending a concert with the pastor being like motivational speaker. At the end of the service as I was walking out, I noticed people dipping their hands into a huge glass jar filled with what looked like colorful mini marshmallows. I followed suite, grabbed a few and popped them in my mouth. As I began chewing, I realized my mistake. Too late, the pastor came up to talk to me and I had to hide them in my cheek, and began mumbling like an idiot. I had been chewing used ear plugs that people were throwing into the jar. I couldn’t wait to get out of there and spit them out. I don’t know what the people who saw me do this thought but I did notice that the next time I attended this church, the glass jar was gone.” Source
Consuming Paper
“I’ve probably consumed about ten pounds of paper because I thought it was part of a cake. There is a super popular cake in Japan that I love. It typically comes wrapped in a thin sheet of paper. I thought the paper was part of the cake and always wolfed it down along with cake. At that point, I had just come to Japan and my Japanese wasn’t good enough to read the warning (for children) not to eat the paper. The most annoying thing is that several Japanese friends WATCHED me do this. I’m pretty sure they just didn’t want to embarrass me by saying, ‘Hey, dude. You know you’re eating paper, right?’ But a small part of me wonders whether they secretly found it amusing and wanted to see if I would figure it out myself. Well, I didn’t!” Source
“There was no second date”
“A cute guy I didn’t know very well asked me out on a date. He took me to dinner and much to my disappointment pulled up to a sushi restaurant. In my nervousness, I’d forgotten to mention I was a vegetarian and not wanting to be rude I decided to “go with the flow” and order whatever vegetable dishes were available on the menu. Asians eat a lot of veggies, right? I had never had sushi before and didn’t know what to expect. I admitted my lack of experience to my date. He laughed and told me he would order for me. He ordered a bunch of exotic sounding dishes I’d never heard of before then excused himself to use the restroom. The waiter arrived with warm hand towels and a little bowl of fresh “green peas” and set them before me. I washed my hands then popped one whole ‘pea’ into my mouth. Big mistake. For the next twenty minutes I chewed. I worked on that sucker trying to get it to break down enough so I could swallow it. They were huge. Right before my date arrived back to the table I thought about ditching the half-chewed fibrous, slobbery soybean mess into the hand towel, but the waiter diligently swooped in and removed my crumpled washcloth before I could spit my mouthful into it. Now my date sat before me and I sat there petrified, chewing. Chewing, chewing! I saw him reach over and break open one of the little green peas and eat the seeds out. ‘Try some edamame’ He offered. No thanks, already working on some, I think. Dinner arrives. It looks awful. Raw fish. I’m a vegetarian. I’ll just sit here and chew. I don’t touch a bite. Cute guy gets increasingly angry. It ends with him saying, ‘Well if I knew you were a vegetarian I would have taken you someplace else, but it would have been nice for you to at least spit out your gum during dinner.’ There was no second date.” Source
Babybel Cheese
“I love those those mini Babybel cheeses with the red wax on the outside. Yes, it tastes so good. The moment I bite into the red outer covering and slowly started chewing it as if I was a part of ad. Yummmmm. Until the day I discovered that it was wax. Wax that was meant to cover the cheese and protect it. That’s when I started freaking out. Did some online reading and realized that it’s non-toxic. Safe! Somewhere deep down I had a feeling something was not right or I wasn’t doing something the right way. It was probably in my stomach which hurt me every time I ate this.” Source
Fish and Chips
“When I was about 10, my family and I went to Long John Silvers (Seafood – Fish And Shrimp Restaurant). I ordered fish and chips. Both my parents asked me a few times if I was sure. I, of course, got indignant. I was not a kid. I knew what I wanted. The food came. I started to eat and almost immediately spit the breaded fish out. ‘It’s fish!’ (Note: I hated fish) ‘Of course it is. It’s fish and chips,’ my dad says. ‘What did you think it was?’ my mom asks. Rather sheepishly I replied, ‘Chicken?’ I’ve never lived that down. Source
Buffet Challenges
“When I was in college, buffets were the best things- you’d stuff your face once a day for some ridiculously cheap student price. There was a sushi chain that I used to go to with a friend. This one time was a gem. To stop us gluttons from eating them poor, this place forced a large bowl of soup noodles on us as a starter. We followed up with something like 10 rounds of chawanmushi (that’s steamed eggs), 10 or so handrolls and I’m pretty sure 20 rounds of sushi and fried stuff. Each. Then we saw they had 2 free rounds of fruit for each diner so we got the waiter over and asked for them. A bit of context – we’re both 170cm and something like 55kg then and we’d been chugging that food in under an hour and a half (there’s a time limit). The waiter was quite sick of serving us by then and gave this dirty look asking if we’re sure before almost sneeringly commenting that wastage is chargeable. A challenge! Of course we couldn’t back down and finished the plates of watermelon that came. It didn’t occur to me that watermelon was mostly water and I left the place literally feeling watermelon in my throat. I could feel juice when I burped. Then my friend poked me while walking and I literally puked a stream of unadulterated watermelon chunks and juice. i learnt that day that I should stop eating when food stops going down my throat.” Source
Serial Wedding Crashers
“During my four years of college, I crashed nearly a hundred weddings. A friend and I, we had a pact to crash every single wedding that happened in the town where we studied. We were, what you call ‘Serial Wedding Crashers’. Can you blame us? We were perpetually hungry college kids who had accidentally tapped into something much larger than ourselves. The pact was inevitable. And oh boy! did we have fun. I have so many stories of our escapades that an entire night would fall short, if I were to start recounting them. And we were never caught. Not once. We had become too good at our craft. So, this is not a story of us getting thrown out of the Wedding arena. No. This happened when we were crashing our twenty fourth wedding. We went in. As usual, I avoided all appetizers (That’s the first rule! Avoid appetizers at all cost. Those pakoras and chowmein might look utterly delicious, but trust me, it is a trap! The host wants you to fill in on these so that you’d eat less of the delicious paneer dishes that are about to be served in main-course.) The main course was thrown open. I quickly overloaded my thali with naans, missi roti, palak paneer, shahi paneer, chole, mix-veg, dal makhni and rayata. I ate. And then I ate some more. I kept on eating till my stomach could take it no more. It was bliss! My friend was in a similar condition, absolutely unable to move; his face aglow with contentment. Then came the time for desserts. My favorite wedding dessert is rabri-jalebi and Ice cream. I first demolished six pieces of sweet, sweet jalebis dipped in rabri. It was heaven. Food Heaven. (That’s a heaven worth dying for!) Then I moved to ice-cream. I reached the ice cream stall, took a bowl and a spoon kept there and extended it towards the guy who was standing behind the stall and serving. He looked at me, and then said – ‘Aur Sahab, aaj bhi Tutti-Frutti he lenge?’ (Sir, will you have Tutti-Frutti as usual?) Tutti Frutti was my favorite flavor. But how did this guy know? Then it hit me. In a small town like this, there can be no more than four or five wedding caterers. And since we had visited ALL the weddings; after a time, caterers would start getting repeated. And so would the servers. So this guy had actually served me at weddings before. Probably multiple times. Until that moment, I had prided myself in my anonymity skills. My MO was, sneak in, enjoy, and sneak out. I was proud to have never been recognized by any of the guests. But I had never thought about the caterers and servers! How could I miss this! That moment, with the server looking at me; his face twisted in a sly smile that seemed to say – ‘I know your dirty little secret!’, I felt so embarrassed and ashamed, so much so that I prayed for the earth to burst open on the spot and swallow me whole! But only for a moment. Because next instant, I recovered myself, put a shameless grin back on my face and said – ‘Nahin Bhaiyya, aaj Black-Currant do!’ (No, I’ll have Black-Currant today.) After all, You Only Live Once! There is not enough time to be embarrassed or ashamed.” Source
Fortune Cookies
“I was out with a friend of mine and we went to a Chinese place where after the meal they give free fortune cookies. I had no idea what fortune cookies are and I assumed they are crackers in a different shape. To help you recall what a fortune cookie is, just in case: they are cookies you crack open from the center and pull out a piece of paper which usually has some motivational message or prophecy. I ate my fortune cookie before my friend did and I had no clue I was about to be chewing paper. Then my friend cracked open the cookie and read out her message and asked what’s on mine. I said, ‘What message? I didn’t get any message’. Then we both looked at each other, a moment of silence and we both laughed.” Source
Turkish Food
“My husband and I love Turkish food and we have many restaurants in our vicinity where we are frequent diners. Sometimes we are alone and sometimes we dine with friends. On this particular occasion we were traveling through London and decided to stop of at this Turkish Restaurant that had been recommended by a friend. I have not got a big appetite and just wanted some grilled chicken pieces on a bed of rice, but my husband wanted the mixed grill so to pacify him and his appetite I agreed. Being unfamiliar with this restaurant we did not realize the platters came in platter x 2 and platter x 4 sizes. To this day I do not understand why the waiter did not put us right – may be he thought we both looked like we were starving, but my husband ordered the platter for 4 by mistake. I am now sitting in the veranda area of the restaurant which was quite empty. There was a table with four people in the very first table and we were sitting mid-veranda with the door to the kitchen in between us. It was taking a long time and I was getting restless. Suddenly the waiter appeared with this enormous platter – bigger than the one in my picture but I have since changed phones and did not save it. I started to complain to my husband that the platter he was holding was for the couple in front as it was massive, and said I think we were here first and its not fair. But he did not turn right to the other diners table he turned left towards us. I immediately looked behind thinking there was some other people at the back of us – but all the tables were empty. The waiter stopped at our table. I managed to squeak ‘are you sure that is for us’ looking daggers at my husband. The waiter assured us that is what we ordered. I was very grateful that there was no one near me to see this spectacle. The funny thing was, because I felt so embarrassed I did not really enjoy it as much as I would have done if the size was in proportion to our appetite. We managed to eat less than half. It was a catastrophe as far as I was concerned as somehow the pleasure was taken away from me by the glutinous look of the scenario. I could not wait for them to take the offending plate away after we had our fill. To add insult to injury they came back with a box filled with the left over meat, and this in itself again made me feel terrible – I just do not do ‘doggy bags’ EVER. I had nothing to do with it and let my husband take charge of the box. I sneaked out of the restaurant passed the waiters who were standing in a line with head bowed to floor. The upshot of that was my husband enjoyed two good meals for the next couple of days. Not me I stuck to salads and refrained from visiting Turkish Restaurants for quite some time. I am pleased to say we are now back on track.” Source
Seafood
“I never liked seafood very much. Growing up New England this was a problem at times because my parents often served meals I didn’t really care for. I do love steamed clams, but lobster is meh and fish is mostly disgusting to me. This was made worse by the fact I actually like to fish. In my house we were expected to eat what my parents served us and so there were a lot of meals where I was very miserable. I eventually negotiated a ‘deal’ with my mom that I would continue to bring sea food home (I’ve dove for lobsters and caught everything from flounder and blue fish to a 1000 lb marlin) if she wouldn’t make me eat it. Until I was an adult I had mostly avoided eating shrimp (I love it now but it fell into the seafood meh category as a kid) My parents didn’t take us out to eat very often (they had enough money, my father was extremely well compensated as an engineer with over 300 patents and my mother was an RN working in a hospital for more than 30 years) it just wasn’t something we did that often. In retrospect, I think probably because all my grandparents were poor when they came to this country my mom and dad grew up frugally and that carried over into our home life. Even when we did eat out it was typically not fine dining so my experience with shrimp was limited to shrimp cocktail and even that I rarely ate. All that back story leads me to an extremely embarrassing moment. Fast forward to age 18 when I was in college. My roommates family was visiting from out of town they graciously invited me to join them for dinner, they took us to a really high end restaurant and someone ordered a couple appetizers including something very close to a shrimp scampi, crusted with bread crumbs and served in a rich sauce, I had no idea what to do when someone put one on my plate. I noticed my roommate eating his with his fingers but I didn’t pay close enough attention and I ate the tail with the shell still on. It was a little ‘crunchy’ to say the least and would not have been an issue if not for my roommates 17 yr old sister watching me the entire time… ‘Did you just eat the tail…?’ Not subtle, no hint of discretion just high school girl incredulous mocking and condemnation all wrapped up into 6 words… There’s not really a good answer when suddenly everyone is looking at you and you don’t really want to admit how far outside your comfort zone the situation currently is. I’m sure I turned 17 shades of red in the span of a few seconds before her dad deflected conversation away from me with a self deprecating joke about a faux pas he made once. More than 30 years ago and it still pops in my mind when I’m out at a nice restaurant.” Source
“Still ashamed of those sandwiches”
“Lets go back to fall 2010. I had just arrived in the UK to study. I didn’t know anyone in the city I was studying in. Barely a few weeks into my new life there , I was just beginning to make good friends while filtering out the people we meet in the frenzy that is the first few weeks of uni. I was not very close to my flat mates either. I was pretty much alone. I never carried much cash around preferring to swipe my debit to make purchases. In the last week of October, I find out that my card stopped working. The bank informs me that my account got blocked due to certain reasons and that they would get back to me in a day. I figured the 8 quid in my wallet would be enough to get me through the day. I spent 6 on a pack of cigarettes. The issue with the bank took 14 days to sort out. I had no money to travel, recharge my phone or to eat. I could not travel to uni and ended up missing my classes. On the other hand, I had to spend 2-3 hours every day at the bank fighting with the management to resolve the problem. The bank was around 2km away from the place I stayed. I walked. All I had in my fridge at that point was half a liter of milk, 2 apples and 4 slices of bread. I made this last for about 3 days until it ran out. I then requested my flatmates to spot me for a few days (4 days) until I overheard one of them complaining. I stopped asking them after that. To get rid of my hunger pangs, I resorted to filling myself up with a lot of water supplemented with a few chugs of milk/juice I snuck from my flatmates’ fridges. I smoked the cigarettes I had bought previously to help kill my appetite.
I did manage to grab a slice or two of bread from my flatmates but this was difficult as someone was always around. I also tried my best to sleep for as long as possible. This went on for a few more days until I couldn’t take it any more. I began shoplifting readymade sandwiches from a local supermarket. It was surprisingly easy. All I had to do was put them into my bag and walk out . No questions asked. The 4 sandwiches I took kept me going until my account got unblocked. The last 3 days before the issue got solved were the worst. My body was extremely weak and I think I was getting delirious from the lack of food. I really don’t know why I didn’t swallow my pride and ask my flatmates for more help. In hindsight, they were really nice people and I don’t think they would have minded helping me out for a week or two more. I am still ashamed of taking those sandwiches.” Source
Lack of Self Control
“When I was a kid (6 or 7) my family was invited to a party. It was full of family, friends of family, etc, so no one bothered watching the kids, we just ran loose in the yard, house, and block. Unfortunately for me, I was the only kid my age, not counting my brother (just a year older) who was a boy and therefore welcome with the older boys. I had no one to play with, except the babies, and nothing to do. Nothing except eat of course. Now usually my mother policed what I ate pretty well. As a little kid I ate healthy or else. But I was free to sample everything I wanted. And sample I did. Chips, hot dog, cake, patties, rice, curry, bits of this and that, I ate everything. And then I hit the soda table. I made a monster sized cup of every single sweet drink on the table, from root beer to orange juice, and rushed off with my diabetic treat. After downing it I started to feel a bit queasy so I went decided to self medicate. With ice cream. A really bad idea. I’m more than a little lactose intolerant. My mother had always been careful of dairy with me, which I hated and now she wasn’t around. And no way could ice cream ever make me feel worse. So I had a cup of chocolate ice cream. About 5 minutes after I downed the ice cream I rushed to the bathroom. I barely.made it inside before I threw up everything I had eaten and drunk. Right into the sink. It wasn’t pretty. It came out my nose as well as my mouth. Ever have a chunk of hot dog come out your nose? It hurt so bad. I remember cleaning up my face and the sink while crying. No way was in letting anyone know what happened. I went into the room with the babies and went to sleep. It was where I obviously belonged.” Source
Cat Food
“When I was about 6 years old, my Great Grandmother had a party at her house. Everyone was there, friends, family, and many more. Somehow my aunt ended up in charge of feeding me. I asked for dinner, because the counters were too high and I was famished, and she loudly said, ‘You are a little glutton! You will wait until everyone else has had food!’ I cowered in fear from her and asked what a glutton was. She said I knew what it was and to get out of the way. I went outside, sat on the front porch, and cried in hunger. Every time she saw me she would repeat that I had to wait until everyone else had had a serving. After what felt like hours to me, but was probably only a few minutes, my Great Grandmother saw me and took pity on me. She prepared a plate for me and said, pointedly in front of my aunt, “Go wash your hands and then you can get your plate off the counter and eat dinner’. Happily I ran to the bathroom, washed my hands, and came back. I reached up to the counter that I could barely see over and grabbed my plate of food. I looked at the food on it and was confused, it did not look that good or like what everyone else was eating. However, I had been trained to not complain about food and to eat what I was given. By that time almost everyone else had poured outside and were doing other things as they had finished their meals. I took my plate to the table, sat down in the corner, and started to eat. The food was, at that time, the most disgusting thing I had ever tasted. I smelled it, my eyes absolutely watered at the aroma. Tears streamed down my cheeks and I timidly brought a small forkful to my mouth. I retched in disgust as I chewed the soft, filmy, oily food. I looked around to see if I had made a mistake, but nobody was paying me attention except my aunt. She came up to me and said, ‘You begged for food, now eat your plate and you might get dessert, you filthy glutton’. Dutifully I put one forkful in my mouth at a time and tried to swallow it quickly. She would chide me and tell me to chew slowly and swallow the food. I continued to eat the food, the whole time ready to vomit. I was raised to never criticize food, because it was a precious commodity. I simply could not keep it down though and finally I gave up with only about half of the food done. I stood up and asked my aunt to be excused, she chided me for not eating my whole meal, “You did not eat all of your food! You do not get dessert. You are such a greedy child. You need to finish your food or I will tell your Mom!’ Fearing being punished I tried to fork more of the food into my mouth, but I could not. With tears streaming down my face, my aunt’s threats in my ear, and the fear of being punished, I slowly took my plate to the sink where my Grandfather was cleaning the dishes. I handed the plate up to him and I heard him drop the dishes he was cleaning. ‘Where did you get this?’ ‘Off of the counter.’ ‘Did you eat any of it?’ I was afraid I was going to be in trouble for not eating all of it. ‘Yes, I ate as much as I could, I am full now.’ ‘You ATE CAT FOOD?’ ‘I what?’ It was wet cat food (which I have had people tell me can be quite good, but this was most disgusting).
My aunt snickered and giggled in the corner and then spoke up, “He was so greedy for food, he grabbed the wrong plate. I tried to warn him! He is such a bad child.” I started to cry and screamed at my aunt, ‘She’s lying! She’s lying! Great Grandma told me that she made a plate for me and put it on the counter and this was the only plate left and I ate it and and and…’ I was horrified, but because I was screaming and angry at my aunt, because I knew she had tricked me somehow. She should have recognized it as cat food and helped me and she had been calling me names all evening. I used every curse word I knew and was forced to sit in a corner near the trash for punishment the remainder of the evening. I was not allowed to play with my cousins or to be around the party. I spent the first fifteen minutes vomiting, because the cat food plus yelling had not sat on my stomach properly. The remainder of the time I agonized about all of the punishments that were going to be met upon me the next day by my parents. As the night wore on, I was increasingly embarrassed as my aunt told everyone how I was such a little glutton that I would eat cat food and not even know it. My cousins and the other kids started to call me names every time they came past and made fun of me. After a while my Great Grandmother took pity on me, came to me, and asked where I had obtained the cat food. I told her she had pointed at the plate for my food and told me to wash my hands and I had done so. When I had came back, I got the plate of food, and it did not smell or look right, but my aunt had told me it was the plate prepared for me and forced me to eat it. My Great Grandmother was a very wise and sweet woman, but she was confused and kept asking me to explain. I tried, but she finally gave up because my story did not make any sense. The next day I did not receive any punishment and I was confused, but thanked my blessings. However, I spent quite some time being teased about it. Many years later I was sitting around with family after my Great Grandmother had died. I was talking with my Grandfather and we were talking about embarrassing family moments. One of my cousins brought it up, “Does everyone remember when he ate cat food?’ My Grandfather spoke up gently, ‘It was not his fault.’ I was shocked and asked, ‘What? My memory is that I was being a little pig, insisting on food, grabbed a plate, and ended up with cat food, but was being so piggish that I ate it.’ He told me my memory was wrong and reminded me about some of the details above. What I had missed was the end of the story with my aunt. My Great Grandmother, after talking to me, simply would not let it go. She kept saying she was confused, because she knew she had set out a plate for me, and she could not understand how I had got the cat food because it was on a higher shelf. She had finally gone and looked and seen that the plate she had prepared for me was on the higher shelf. She asked everyone how it got there, but nobody had any idea. A while later my aunt, who was getting increasingly drunk, started telling everyone how she had taught “the little fat pig” a lesson by making me eat cat food and how she had swapped the meals. Apparently when I went to wash my hands, she had switched the plates around, so the one in my reach was cat food. She claimed she thought I would recognize it as cat food and not eat it, but learn a lesson from it. Instead she had been amazed that I ate it and then to teach me a lesson tried to force me to eat the whole thing. Frustrating, to me when I later learned of the events, because I had thrown such a fit the adults had decided I was to maintain my punishment. Except my Great Grandmother who was quite angry about what had happened and prepared me the slice of her pie. When she was told she should not give it to me, apparently she gave everyone, especially my aunt, some very choice words (that my Grandfather refused to repeat) and proceeded to take the pie out to me. My Grandfather stated how proud he was of her for doing that years later and embarrassed that I had been in trouble for the intentional mixup. He related to me and said that if anyone had done that to him, he too would have thought it a cruel joke and almost anyone would have yelled about it. At least an hour later I heard a commotion inside the house and then my Great Grandmother came out with a large piece of her delicious blackberry pie and a huge scoop of ice cream on it. She gave it to me and told me to forget about the dinner and that everything would be okay. This is all many years ago now and my memory of it is happily vague, but I can still remember how disgusting the cat food was and to this day I feel bad for cats required to eat wet food.” Source
