Whenever most people wistfully think back about their grandmothers and in particular, her cooking, as the angelic harps of memory play and the silvery clouds of memory part, they are usually left with beautiful culinary remembrances such as “Man alive, my grandmother made the best fried chicken in the world!” or “You know what I miss? My grandmother’s tamales! No one made them like her!”
And while I’ve never met anyone who’d admit it, there’s just got to be someone out there who, when they think back, immediately makes a disgusted sneer and bellows “Ugh, my grandmother’s food was the absolute worst! Her potato salad once gave me intestinal worms! I’m pretty sure she got most of her recipe ideas from the back of Wacky Packages!”