My absolute favorite meal my mom would make was rice fritters. They look just like this:
I think every country has their own version of this cheap food item. In Argentina, Spain and other hispanic countries they’re called croquetas (croquettes), in India they’re called rice pakora, central Europe has their potato latke version etc.
I fucking LOVEEEDDDD these stupid deep fried balls of goodness. We always had them towards the end of the week, like on a Thursday.
In retrospect, it was always the day the fridge seemed the emptiest with the exception of a tupperware of old cooked rice, half a bag of extremely wilted spinach, and some odds and ends of old veggies and sometimes cooked chicken thighs.
Rice fritters were my mother’s “everything but the kitchen sink” meal. On rice fritter night there was no side salad, no side of fresh vegetables, and no main course. It was literally a giant platter of these things lined with paper towels to soak up the grease. My brother liked to dip his in mayonnaise, I liked mine plain or with a little bit of hot sauce.
I never knew the financial woes of my parents at this time. My dad had just finally started his own business as a general contractor and was struggling to find work. My mother was a full time mom of three small children. They were doing their best. It never occurred to me that my dad would have to hound client’s for payment on their invoices, it never occurred to me that if he ever did get paid, it would be on a Friday. It never occurred to me that I was wearing my brother’s old clothes, even though they never quite fit. It never occurred to me that my mother was wearing the same house dress for the past 5 years, I just thought it was her favorite. And it never occurred to me that my father would never eat ANY of these rice fritters, but just watch us as he savored his last can of MGD before falling asleep watching a bad movie that he let us kids request.
On my 13th birthday, about the time my parents were finally doing quite well financially, my mother told me she would make me anything I wanted for dinner. ANYTHING. She threw out some lavish ideas like steak, veal milanese, homemade ravioli, grilled shrimp. She really went out of her way on all of our birthdays. I immediately said “rice fritters!”. She looked at me with this sad look on her face and said “but honey, we don’t have to eat like that anymore”. I didn’t get it at the time.
I love my parents.
Edit: A picture of my mother, in the new dress my father bought her right before he demolished this kitchen and built her a dream kitchen.
My absolute favorite meal my mom would make was rice fritters. They look just like this:
I think every country has their own version of this cheap food item. In Argentina, Spain and other hispanic countries they’re called croquetas (croquettes), in India they’re called rice pakora, central Europe has their potato latke version etc.
I fucking LOVEEEDDDD these stupid deep fried balls of goodness. We always had them towards the end of the week, like on a Thursday.
In retrospect, it was always the day the fridge seemed the emptiest with the exception of a tupperware of old cooked rice, half a bag of extremely wilted spinach, and some odds and ends of old veggies and sometimes cooked chicken thighs.
Rice fritters were my mother’s “everything but the kitchen sink” meal. On rice fritter night there was no side salad, no side of fresh vegetables, and no main course. It was literally a giant platter of these things lined with paper towels to soak up the grease. My brother liked to dip his in mayonnaise, I liked mine plain or with a little bit of hot sauce.
I never knew the financial woes of my parents at this time. My dad had just finally started his own business as a general contractor and was struggling to find work. My mother was a full time mom of three small children. They were doing their best. It never occurred to me that my dad would have to hound client’s for payment on their invoices, it never occurred to me that if he ever did get paid, it would be on a Friday. It never occurred to me that I was wearing my brother’s old clothes, even though they never quite fit. It never occurred to me that my mother was wearing the same house dress for the past 5 years, I just thought it was her favorite. And it never occurred to me that my father would never eat ANY of these rice fritters, but just watch us as he savored his last can of MGD before falling asleep watching a bad movie that he let us kids request.
On my 13th birthday, about the time my parents were finally doing quite well financially, my mother told me she would make me anything I wanted for dinner. ANYTHING. She threw out some lavish ideas like steak, veal milanese, homemade ravioli, grilled shrimp. She really went out of her way on all of our birthdays. I immediately said “rice fritters!”. She looked at me with this sad look on her face and said “but honey, we don’t have to eat like that anymore”. I didn’t get it at the time.
I love my parents.
Edit: A picture of my mother, in the new dress my father bought her right before he demolished this kitchen and built her a dream kitchen.
When I was a kid, my family would often steam rice and then pour water into it to make a “soup.” Then, to add some flavor, we would mix in a little kimchi which is essentially a “spicy pickled cabbage.”
And I loved it.
Not only did I think that it tasted great, but it was super simple to make too. And this was a relief for my parents since, unknowing to me, we were on the verge of bankruptcy.
My parents were immigrants who invested everything they had into a small family business, and while the initial response was great, hard times soon fell upon us.
Other businesses near us began closing down, and so the area was only becoming more and more desolate. Eventually, it was our turn to sell.
After they sold the business, my parents worked multiple jobs in order to pay the bills. My dad would deliver newspapers in the morning and then “flip burgers” for the rest of the day. My mom would bake donuts at a cafe in the morning and then work at a restaurant as a waitress afterwards. They both worked well over 14 hours a day with no break.
All while I happily ate my “kimchi soup.”
And it took me a while to understand that sad look my mother gave me every time I ate.
Eventually, times got better as my parents found better jobs. It was then when my mom refused to let me eat anymore of my “guilty pleasure.”
Instead, she made for me what has since been my favorite dish to date.
KimchiJjigae (Kimchi Stew)
It’s funny when I think about it because this dish is essentially an “upgrade” of what I ate in the past.
And so it serves to me as a reminder of all the struggles my parents have gone through to keep the family going.
I really love my parents.
Two things came to mind immediately:
1) Rice-as-cereal. It’s just cooked rice with milk, sugar, butter, and maybe cinnamon. I used to LOVE this as a kid. In retrospect, we mostly ate it because we couldn’t afford Rice Krispies. All-in, that’s like 25 cents worth of ingredients. Even cheaper if you get the sugar and butter for free from the break room where you work. (Cough, cough, mom, cough.)
2) Fried bologna sandwiches. It’s exactly what it sounds like, and it’s amazing! Also cheap. The cheapest meat on the cheapest bread. Heat up the meat so it feels fancier than a regular sandwich. If it was your parents’ payday, you might get cheese on it too. If not, catsup also helped the flavor.
