The Little Gourmet

Laura Loved to Eat!

The Little Gourmet

Susan Fusco-Fazio

Laura loved to eat! 

Food was consumed for pleasure and enjoyment. Food was recreation. Eating was not something Laura did to survive, but an activity to be savored and celebrated. It couldn’t just be any food. It had to be delicious. Food mattered. Laura was a little gourmet!

Laura was very specific about what she would eat. There would be no traditional breakfasts; no eggs, no cereal, no toast. Laura ate English muffin pizzas or soup for breakfast. Pancakes were acceptable on the weekends, but only if we made ears with the batter to look like Mickey Mouse or a teddy bear. There would be no traditional lunches; no sandwiches, no peanut butter and jelly, no tuna, no egg salad, and certainly no cold cuts. I packed her school lunch box with dinner left-overs; meatballs with tomato sauce, eggplant parmesan, and marinated chickpeas. 

Laura was picky about what she drank. Orange juice was okay, but only if it had no pulp! Lemonade needed to be freshly squeezed. Banana smoothies were on the list, but only if made at home in our blender. Laura drank ginger tea when queasy, hot chocolate on snow days, and virgin Pina Coladas on vacations. Most of the time Laura drank spring water, though it had to be Poland Springs. A white plastic thermos filled with spring water accompanied Laura wherever she went. She took small sips all day long; at home, at school, in the car, on day trips, on appointments, and at friends and relatives houses. Laura was never without her little white thermos.

Laura ate cheese and crackers for snacks, but only a few brands were acceptable. She ate Helluva Good Monterey Jack or Cracker Barrel Extra Sharp White Cheddar. The crackers needed to be Wheat Thins, Ritz, Cheez-It or Gold Fish. Black olives were always a welcome snack. Laura loved tomatoes, which she held in her hand  and bit into like an apple.

There were many notable food stories in Laura’s life. One time, when vacationing in Maine, we took our four year old Laura to Maria’s Restaurant, in Portland. It was on that evening in June, when Laura was wearing a plaid dress, white tights and a dressy white cardigan with fake pearls beaded into the collar that she said,  “I taste three different cheeses in these meatballs!”

The waitress at Maria’s overheard, alerted the chef, who then came out of the kitchen to see the toddler who detected three different cheeses in his meatballs. The chef approached our table and looked down at Laura who was happily focused on her food and unaware of his presence.

    “Do you like my meatballs?” He asked. 

      Laura looked up and nodded yes. She flashed him a big smile.

    “I hear you taste three cheeses in my meatballs,”  he said.

    “Parmesan, Assaggio, and Romano,” she said. 

Surprised and charmed by the toddler who could determine three separate cheeses in his meatballs, the chef asked if she would like to have a tour of the kitchen. After a hearty yes from Laura and nods of approval from us, Paul and I watched in amazement as the chef scooped Laura up into his arms. As he carried Laura toward the kitchen, she beamed with joy, flapped her legs, and wiggled her body the way she did when she got excited. Acting upon a protective instinct, I got up, trailed behind and watched in awe as Laura was being introduced to the kitchen staff, while charming them all.

On another weekend getaway,  to Plymouth in the fall, we took Laura to the Crane Brook Tea Room, in Carver, Ma.  The restaurant was recommended because the dining room was lit only by candle light. Laura wore the same white cardigan sweater with the fake pearls sewn into the collar that night too. We took pictures of one other on the balcony of the Governor Bradford motel before setting out for dinner. We traveled along the desolate  back roads of Carver as we watched the sun set over the bright red cranberry bogs.  Upon arrival at the restaurant, we told the hostess that we had a reservation for three.

     “I am sorry,” said the hostess, “but we don’t allow children under the age of 12 into our restaurant.”

     “I promise she will be of no trouble. She will sit quietly and focus on the food. Our daughter is a gourmet eater!” I declared with determination. 

Sensing that I would not give up, the hostess called over the manager, who reiterated the same restaurant policy. Continuing to plead our case, I told the manager our Maine restaurant story, hoping to convince him. The manager agreed to let us dine at their restaurant.  Laura, now 5 years old, was entirely unaware of the initial drama and was fully enjoying herself. Once we were seated at a table, we basked in the serene glow of a candle lit dining room. We ordered. The appetizers were served. Laura ate escargot for the very first time, softly oohing and ahh-ing at how delicious it was as she ate.  Paul and I watched with delight. The staff looked on and marveled at Laura. When the main course was served, more mouths hung open in awe, as Laura placed alternating forkfuls of shrimp scampi and broccoli rabe into her mouth smiling in pleasure with each bite, like a deeply satisfied food critic. 

    “ Wow,  this is sooo good!” Laura said. “Can we come here again?” 

We never returned to the vacation spot restaurants, but we regularly took Laura out to our local favorite restaurants. She dined on shrimp scampi at La Scala, in Randolph, Pasta Fagioli and Greek lemon chicken soup at Genaro’s, in Quincy, and ate guacamole with chips and pollo cilantro at El Sarape, in Braintree. When Laura was old enough to invite friends we went to Papa Ginos for cheese pizza and a Greek salad. 

Food was a big part of our own family’s life. Dinner was a nightly event at our home. During the weekdays, I made Laura’s favorite suppertime foods; goulash, lemon chicken, pork chop and potato casserole, vegetarian pasta dishes, minestrone and chicken soup. On the weekends I made shrimp scampi, eggplant parmesan, and chicken cutlets. Laura’s dad made homemade pizzas, French fries, apple pies, and chocolate chip cookies. We often had friends and family over for dinners,  cooking what Laura called, company food. 

Laura also loved to go to other people's houses for dinner; her aunt and uncle, Tom and Patsy’s house to feast on shrimp cocktail and mini rye toast with melted cheese and basil, to Peggy’s place for cheesy artichoke dip with crackers, and at Lori and Lupe’s home for authentic Mexican food.

Paul and I were lucky to both be raised by mothers who were gourmet cooks. Laura was fortunate to have two Italian grandmothers who loved to cook for her. When driving to her nearby Nana and Nanu’s house, Laura would wonder what Italian specialities awaited her. She would call to us from the back seat of the car, “Do you think Nana made me pesto, or maybe shrimp marinara?  I hope she made me marinated lentils or chickpeas. Maybe she even made eggplant?” When we would arrive at Paul's parents’ house, Laura would ask Nana, did you make me lentils, before she even said hello. She would laugh and answer, of course I did!  Later, Nana would joke about how that was Laura's greeting. We would laugh about it together and remark about our little gourmet.

During the long drives to see my family in Connecticut, Laura would imagine what tasty foods her Ga Ga might be cooking up for her. Manicotti? Macaroni and cheese? Roast beef with au gratin potatoes? She knew that her grandmother would take great pleasure in serving her a fresh fruit salad the next morning? Laura always knew that her refrigerator would contain Cracker Barrel Cheese, which was affectionately named, grandmother cheese. When Laura got a bit older she would call her Ga Ga on the phone to put in her food orders ahead of time. Maybe she would ask if her grandmother would take her out for baked stuffed lobster.  Later on those weekends, we would also visit Laura’s grandfather’s house, where she would look forward to eating an ice cream sundae and drinking a cup of hot chocolate with her sweet toothed Big Pop Pop.

Laura loved to eat. She ate with the people she loved. She ate food made by the people who loved her. Laura ate with joy, slowly, deliberately and with great appreciation. Laura ate with purpose. Laura ate with love. Laura was our little gourmet!

From Laura’s Scrap book!!