Oh yeah, one other thing she got spot on: “Visiting one another’s homes is akin to food shopping. On your way out the door, you will be interviewed about what groceries you’re lacking at home, and two bags will be filled for you and placed by the door.”
Mom was always trying to foist food upon us upon leaving. Homemade goodies made by her or someone like her – without a doubt, understandable. But also goodies not necessarily homemade, like her leftovers from the restaurant we just visited – yup. “Take it home! Take it home!” But even ordinary run-of-the-mill groceries. An untouched Entenman’s cake – “Want to bring some cake home?” Want this? Want that? Mom, I can buy an Entenm…. oh, never mind. And she always seemed to think that we all had to eat round the clock; we may have just come home stuffed from a four-course meal, and she’d be like, “Want something to snack on later? Here, you can nibble on this later.” Jesus Mom, I may not even be eating tomorrow.
Tytania 
A friend worked at Brattleboro Food Co-op in the ’70s. In conversation with her grandmother in NYC, she alluded to the high price of cheese. Mistake! A short while later a parcel arrived from grandma containing a tiny wedge of Grafton cheddar, bought for a prince’s ransom in a Manhattan deli, mailed to my friend who daily handled, and often brought home, blocks of Grafton cheddar costing considerably less. Grafton is just up the road and their (excellent) cheddar was a staple in the co-op.
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