# First meal I care to remember



## Centaur (Feb 2, 2010)

If I try, I can remember wailing, aged two, while my mother fed me a foul concoction of mashed potato and milk.

I preferred the next meal I can remember, in the summer of 1975, in Portugal, which I enjoyed while communists and die-hard fascists fought a scrappy little civil war.

A pungent chicken piri-piri, enjoyed one evening with my parents in an open-air restaurant overlooking the Atlantic as the sun set. Not too far away, a machine-gun barked, and I felt alive.


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## VictorRomeo (Sep 11, 2009)

Had a similar experience with piri-piri a few years back overlooking the Indian Ocean while in Mozambique....


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## sowilson (Jul 27, 2009)

Pots Point Fish Pot (from Graham Kerr - The Galloping Gourmet) that I served up to the family on New Years day when I was 12.


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## WouldaShoulda (Aug 5, 2009)

At the hieght of the American Suburban cassarole madness of '71, my mother doubted my veracity when I insisted that one more bite would make me sick.

She has taken me at my word ever since.

The sounds of gunfire eminated from the TV tuned to the evening news...


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