This is how much I LOVE food: I can remember exactly what I was eating during the "Big Moments" of my life:
I was eating chili and bread sticks in the Edgemont Elementary School cafeteria when I heard JFK had been shot.
I was eating Kentucky Fried Chicken and coleslaw while trying to appear witty and charming and not fat on my first Official Date.
I was eating orange rolls and chicken salad with chilled grapes at Lindsey Gardens with my girlfriend Sally when I went into labor with my second son.
See what I mean? Also, I can vividly remember the precise geographic locations of important "Food Firsts":
FIRST BITE OF LOBSTER: San Francisco, Calif. On one of our family's annual trips to our dentist, who lived in the Bay area. He was my dad's best friend, and he did our teeth for free after hours.
FIRST BAGEL: Toledo, Ohio. These days, when the only fast-food establishment more ubiquitous than a bagel shop is a Starbucks coffeehouse, it's hard to believe that bagels used to be a semi-rare food item in Utah. In fact, I never saw an actual bagel until I went to the Midwest one summer to visit family. I didn't even know what it was. I just assumed it was a goofy Spudnut that tasted like bread.
FIRST SLICE OF CHEESE THAT WASN'T (A) AMERICAN, (B) CHEDDAR, OR (C) SWISS: London, England. These days you can practically buy Brie in the deli section of your favorite gas station. When I was growing up, however, a Utah County family's cheese choices were severely limited. If you wanted an exotic cheese experience, you bought yourself a can of Easy Cheese and sprayed it on some classy non-saltine crackers. That's why I'll never forget the day when, as a college student in England, I walked into a little market and saw all those wheels of fancy cheeses, just sitting there for ordinary, non-Duchess-of-Windsor people (like me) to buy them. I was totally blown away.
I also like to keep current mental lists of my favorite places to obtain comfort foods.
Such as:
HAMBURGERS: The New York "Big H" at Hires (700 East and 400 South) or the garlic burger at the Cotton Bottom Inn (somewhere in Holladay — I CAN'T give you the address, but I CAN definitely drive you there).
SHAKES: Hello! In case you haven't heard yet, you get them at the Iceberg (900 East and 3900 South). A close (as in much closer to my house) runner-up is found at the soda fountain in the U. pharmacy (next door to the University of Utah). And if you don't mind a drive to get your fresh raspberry shakes, go to LeBeau's (across the street from Bear Lake) in Garden City.
HEART-ATTACK-ON-A-PLATE BREAKFAST: George's in the Medical Towers building (100 South and 1100 East). The really cool thing about eating breakfast at George's is that you'll probably run into your teenage son and his friends who are busy SLUFFING FIRST PERIOD AGAIN!
The reason I mention all this is that I've been thinking hard about what makes a marriage work lately, and here's my not-so-original observation: After all that other matrimony-inducing stuff (starry eyes, raging hormones, the desire to get a bunch of free china plates from your parents' friends) runs its natural course, small kindnesses go a long way.
This is the particular kindness my husband, Ken, shows me. He takes notes about what he eats when he's on the road. Then, after the kids are in bed, he calls with detailed reports, because he knows I like to HEAR about food as well as EAT it. What makes this so remarkable is that Ken is totally indifferent to food. He just doesn't care about it. He eats because you're supposed to if you want to stay alive. So for this guy to try to gush like a guest on the Food Network about the flaky salmon with dill sauce he ate earlier that evening is thoughtful beyond words.
"You must really love me to do this," I said to him one night when he called from New Orleans with a thrilling first-hand account of beignet-eating.
"No duh," he said. Then he continued with his narrative.
So here's what I want to say to my husband this Father's Day: Thanks for the nice things you do for me, as well as your five children.
We've noticed. And when we don't, we should.