
Not all family traditions are things you carry with you all of your life. Although I have done my share of changing my practices as I have converted from my Christian childhood to my Jewish adulthood, there are simply some family traditions I have challenged for less obvious reasons.
Take for instance St. Patrick’s Day. Not a particularly religious holiday for my neither Irish nor Catholic family, but somehow it became the tradition for my father to bring home McDonalds’ cheeseburgers, french fries and the pièce de résistance – a Shamrock Shake. This chalky green, vaguely minty milkshake is seasonally available in various McDonalds locations around the country and was an annual treat for my sisters and I.
In college, while rebelling against everything, I omitted the annual ingesting of the sweet green drink. As a young working woman (and of legal drinking age) I adopted the traditions of my Irish-heritage co-workers – marching in parades in lousy weather and warming up with corned beef and whiskey. The Shamrock Shake didn’t much cross my mind until one St. Paddy’s Day my younger sister (in a fit of nostalgia) called and breathlessly reminded me of our family’s tradition. At this point I was living in New York City, which apparently has never heard of a Shamrock Shake. After an embarrassing attempt at procuring this childhood treat from the indifferent teenaged McDonalds employee who had rightfully asked, “You want what? A green milkshake?” I had to admit to my failure.
But then I read Fast Food Nation. Not that I really been a huge consumer of fast food (not since the scurvy I developed during a political campaign season when my diet pretty much was Dunkin’ Donuts, pizza and Chinese take-out) but after reading Eric Schlosser I became one of those people who (mostly) disavowed any participation in the consuming of big chain fast food.
But today I was confronted with choice – to McDonalds or not to McDonalds? Knowing full well that the goal – the Shamrock Shake – would be utterly unavailable to me in Manhattan thus negating the actual nostalgia factor. So would I still knowingly subject myself to the 1,360 calories of mainly fat, salt (80% of my daily fat intake 26.67% of my daily cholesterol and 73.75% of my sodium) and corn (yes, I’ve read Michael Pollan now too) just to simply recapture a moment in my childhood?
I’d like to say that in fact I did eat the organic spinach salad I had packed for lunch today. I’d like to say that despite all the compelling reasons of why I shouldn’t have eaten what I did – I did it anyway, for old times sake. The meal itself was wildly disappointing – rubbery, mostly congealed fat that continues to sit like a brick in my gut. Not at all like the blissful joy I remember from the treat from my youth. Sadly, afterwards I didn’t feel any more connected to my family than I did before eating that cheeseburger, fries and (sigh) vanilla milkshake. Although I did call my mom and most of my sisters today (not a very common occurrence) although next time perhaps I could find a catalyst to talk with them that conflicts less with my current culinary values.
*Photo by Sue Ellen Speicher
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