Mom’s Mystery Casserole

My mom was a woman who had mastered the art of feeding a family on a budget. She has always been an excellent cook but what I didn’t realize until I had grown older is that the casseroles she made, she hated. I have these fond memories, of these delicious, cheese-dripping mixes of comfort food coming out of the oven. She would plop a big pile onto our plate and we would dig in. My mouth almost waters at the very memory. For her and my dad, these memories aren’t quite as fond.

The truth behind her delicious casseroles was slightly heart breaking. She made a lot of casseroles because it was the only way she could make our food budget stretch. My parents struggled financially when I was young so this was the only way they could manage to feed us. I never paid attention to my mom’s cooking. I always had my head planted in a book so when my kids were little, I decided it was time I learned to cook. I called her for some of her old casserole recipes. She gave me a few common ones and directed me to the cookbook she had given me. I sifted through them and still couldn’t find the recipes that I wanted. So, when I finally told her exactly what I was looking for, she simply hummed over the phone and then admitted the truth to me. The casseroles had been her creations based on what food we had left over and what she could find in our pantry. She had even written her own recipes down and when my dad was promoted, she threw them out.

We laughed over it though it did bring a few tears to my eyes. I had no idea at the time we were struggling. My mom always had a smile on her face. Our house was warm, full of love and laughter and there was always plenty to eat. It was a life lesson for me. A truth about the act of motherhood. We hold it together with a smile on our faces even when life feels as if it’s crumbling down around us. My mom then brought up a particular memory that happened years later when my parents were financially stable. It revolved around a friend of ours and a mystery casserole of epic proportions.

My brother was in middle school and I was in early high school. My brother and I had been asking my mom for one of her delicious casseroles for dinner all week. She frowned at us and didn’t seem excited over the prospect. Friday finally rolled around and my brother invited a friend of ours to stay the night. I had babysat for him when he was younger and he came from a family that was financially well off. I remembered opening up their pantry to a well-stocked variety of delicious snack foods and juice boxes. They even told me to eat whatever I liked. For a growing teenager, this was exciting! They were also, one of the kindest, most generous families I have ever known. Their son was just as kind.

My mom had just put in a long day at work and she had been running my brother around to all of his soccer practices all week. My dad was working overtime and came home late. Neither of them had gone grocery shopping for the week so my mom takes this as an opportunity to create one of her amazing casseroles. My dad asks her to order a pizza instead but she shakes her head. The problem however was that she had thrown out all of her old recipes. She attempts to throw together her own take on a chicken and stuffing casserole. She tops it with cheese and the smells coming from the oven are mouth watering

Our friend is having the time of his life playing Nintendo with us. My dad is joking around and my mom is laughing with us. He starts commenting on the yummy smells coming from the kitchen. Finally, we all sit down to eat and I’m the first person to take a bite. My lips pucker immediately. There is something definitely wrong with her casserole. It tastes like pure vinegar. Even the cheese is hardly palatable.

“Mom! It tastes bad.” I tell her. “I can hardly eat it!”

She gives me a flustered look. “There is nothing wrong with my casserole!”

I take another bite and unable to contain it, I spit it out. I turn towards our friend in horror, whose eyes are wide in wonder. “Don’t eat it.” I choke out.

My dad holds the casserole up to his mouth. “Be polite. Your mom worked hard on this.”

He takes a bite and his eyes grow really big. “Honey, this is terrible. It tastes like vinegar.”

My mom narrows her eyes. “It’s not that bad!” She tells him. She then, proceeds to take a big bite out of her mystery casserole. She chews, attempts to swallow it and then starts laughing!

My Dad starts laughing and quickly scoops up all of our plates. My brother and I are honestly embarrassed and we’re completely unsure of how we’re going to live this down in front of our friend. Our friend however, just starts laughing along with us. He turns to my parents.

“You guys are the funniest family I’ve ever seen! Can I come over next weekend?” He exclaims as he joins in on the laughter.

We order pizza and our friend has such a good time laughing with us over that casserole incident that he truly became a part of our crazy family that night. Even his own parents loved that story and laughed right along with us. What makes the story even more hilarious is that my mom is a High School cook. It took her a long time to live that one down. To this day, I don’t know what she put into that casserole. What I do know is that she never made another one again.