Not my memory of Chicken Alfredo

While in the grocery store I found myself strolling down memory lane for some reason and thought of my Mom's tuna casserole with the potato chips on top from so long ago. True comfort food. Without going into my mental state and the malaise it brings on, dinners of late have been fairly disappointing. The last few nights have been cold basmati rice and butter heated in a saucepan. Mmmm. So I bought something that I thought would be a solution.

Last night I succumbed to "Chicken Helper's" Chicken Alfredo. It sounded so good, so easy, so comforting. I thought by now they would have perfected the culinary quality of "Helper". I hadn't been to "Helper-land" since college; it hasn't changed. But apparently my tastebuds have. OMG! It was gag-awful, I tossed it down the drain much to the pup's dismay. She did get a sampling and would have happily eaten it all! I just didn't want to deal with the results; easier to feed the garbage disposal.

I, however, have been to the land of better cooking and there's apparently no going back. I think nostalgia and loneliness played into my hunger and for some reason tuna casserole was my brain's answer to everything. I've looked it up on the internet finding recipes but don't remember, did it include, broccoli, red peppers (did we have red ones back them?), cream of chick or mushroom soup? I know there were crushed potato chips on top.

As a result, I opened a can of plain old Classic Campbell’s Chicken Noodle soup and heated that. Didn’t have quite the total comfort effect I was going for but it did bring back memories of my mom or dad’s cool hand on my forehead when I was sick. I saw myself in my parent’s bed on a day I had been sick. I saw the dark 50’s wallpaper with sprays of white flower, coral-burgandy leaves across the deep olive background. My mom always "made" this soup whenever we were sick. It produced a very nostalgic feeling and reminded me of the void created by my parents’ deaths. I found myself in a pool of pity tears. I was looking for the comfort of a happy “memory lane” not the sad path. At that point, I cleaned up and went to bed.



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