by Michelle
"You and me could write a bad romance." ~Lady GaGa
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| Bob and I during our happier times while on vacation in Cumberland, Maryland circa 1987. |
I am publishing this recipe by special request for my ex-boyfriend, Bob. Who, after we broke up, I thought I would never, ever, ever in a million years speak to again. Ever. Yet, here we are today, many years down the road, connected again through Facebook. I suppose the old adage is true that time heals all wounds. Well, perhaps most, but maybe not all. As for Bob and I, we buried the hatchet many years ago, and happily, not in each other's backs.
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In the late 80s, Bob and I, and sometimes our family, and friends, including our co-ed softball team would camp on the shores of Bartlett Lake in Arizona. |
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Bob's truck, speed boat and a smattering of friends. I unfortunately tried to water ski behind that boat, but only once. I lived to tell the tale. |
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Yours truly in camping mode. I loved that hat, an Indiana Jones-style fedora.
My daughter needed photographic proof to believe my camping stories. |
It was difficult when we broke up, as such things always are, but the difficulty was compounded because my parents, who were still together at the time, absolutely adored my ex and they hoped we'd stay together. Bob has a good sense of humor and was easy to be around, for the most part, if you weren't dating him and didn't mention the word commitment. Otherwise, it was good times. I have happy memories of traveling to Maryland to visit his mom and then sightseeing in our nation's capital. At home, we regularly camped at Barlett Lake near Phoenix (yes, I did camp in my younger years), and we'd fly across smooth water in his speed boat—which he constantly tinkered with in his garage. The boat spent more time in pieces in his garage than on the lake—but, hey—it looked pretty cool.
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| A rail yard located near Bob's home town of Cumberland, Maryland. |
Imagine this… we even played co-ed softball for a team sponsored by
Harvey Wineburger, and we'd go with our team after every game to drink beer and devour hamburgers. We would play pool at our sponsor's dive bar/restaurant, and I mean "dive" in a good way. No frills and lots of fun and it didn't matter much if you spilled some beer on the floor. It was kind of like
Cheers, but with hamburgers—everyone knew our names.
Bob and I visited my sister Linda and her boys in Solvang, California one year for Christmas when she lived in the cute little cottage with a big grassy yard and weathered picket fence. Flowers bordered the entrance leading to the front gate and a fragrant honeysuckle vine grew over the front porch. Linda was married to her high school sweetheart at the time—sadly that relationship didn't last either. Neither did that of my parents. When my parents separated after more than 35 years of marriage, my Dad moved in with Bob for awhile—how is that for weird? Especially since I was newly married at the time.
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Christmas 1986 in Solvang with a beautiful breakfast made by Linda and served in her living room. From left: Papa, my dad, uncle Pat, my Mom, Linda, Nana, Michelle (me) and Bob. |
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A visit to Surf Beach during Christmas 1986. From left: Bob, me, dad, mom, Joshua (standing), Jordan, Linda, Juliette and Paul in stroller. |
As of late, I've been delving into a trove of photos both new and old. Some are very old; of my great-great-great grandparents even. I know people who throw their memories away. I can't bring myself to do that, no matter how mad I've been at the time. I kept all the photos that I have of Bob and me to remember the good times. Of when I was young, trying to find my way in the world, determining what I wanted from a partner and from life. It's interesting to look back over twenty-five years and to reflect on how my life has unfolded and to contemplate the results of the choices I've made along the way. I'm glad I kept the photos that trigger the memories of our time together, and that I can look back upon them and him with fondness from this distant vista in time, because there was a time when I would have loved to have thrown an entire bowl of pasta salad in the direction of Bob's head. Now—twenty-something years later—I'm happy to to share the recipe with him, without even a shade of acrimony.
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| The Thomas Jefferson Memorial in Washington D.C. is modeled after the Pantheon in Rome. |
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| Bob captured this photo of me near the entrance of the Smithsonian. |
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| A bird's eye view of the Lincoln Memorial. |
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| What was I thinking with this clothing ensemble? Linda commented it is the worst outfit ever! |
Old recipes are like old friends, too. My repertoire of recipes, like friends on my Christmas list, can vary over the years. Both recipes and friends can be all the rage one year and off the list the next. I look at the faded recipe printed in a "family heritage" cookbook that I put together to give for Christmas presents in 1991 and think, wow, nobody eats pasta salad anymore. A growing number of people don't eat wheat, or gluten, or carbs in general.
This pasta salad made it through the low-fat fad years by switching to non-fat or low-fat versions of both dressings. I'm back to eating fat, and limiting carbs, but gluten is mostly out. Fortunately, there is gluten-free pasta widely available to make an easy conversion. The one thing that hasn't changed over the years is the impression the pasta salad left on Bob. Good food can do that—leave a lasting imprint upon the brain, which honestly can be quite vexing, and leads me to think of the Rolling Stone's lyrics, "You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes well you might find, you get what you need."
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The Baltimore Harbor on a foggy November day in Maryland. At the time, I was pretty proud of myself when I spliced two photos together to create a panorama. |
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| Back in the day, when I had more time, I cut and pasted—literally—myself into this photo. |
When I received the Facebook message from Bob letting me know that he had looked at Salvation Sisters, and subsequently was disappointed that his favorite pasta salad was not among the many recipes we've posted to date, I was immediately drawn back in time—to former kitchens and homes, and of cooking pasta salad for family and friends that no longer gather. And, while pasta salad really is not in vogue, I bet it will come around again, like high-waisted jeans. Wait... my daughter just bought a pair of high-waisted jeans. Maybe it's time for pasta salad to become fashionable again, too—just in time for potluck season.
Retro-Style: Michelle's Big Bowl Pasta Salad