There is a sub shop in down town Hamilton- where my mother’s side of the family all grew up and live- , and for less than the price of a Subway “$5” foot-long you get one of the best cold subs I have ever and will ever have.
(Bonus Gif for the food porn:
Food really does take you places.
Every weekend my family makes the trip from Toronto to Hamilton to be with my grandmother and my cousins, just as we’ve been doing since I was little. And some days, usually in the summer, when we were all together at my grandmother’s house- 4 daughters, 6 grandchildren, my aunts would go get us all subs from the place they’ve been going to since they were in high school. In my grandmother’s basement kitchen with the blue tiled walls and plastic-over-Portuguese-table-cloth, we’d pull the table out from against the wall, bring the extra chairs from upstairs and gather around the same table my aunts’ nasty gum wads from decades ago were stuck under (not a very good day as children crawling under that table when we made that realization). I would pick the cheese and tomatoes out of my sub and sandwich halves were always in the fridge with our initials on the paper for later.
In the past few years I’ve had one of these babies maybe twice (counting today). Two years ago my grandmother was placed in a nursing home for those who, like her, were no longer able to care for themselves. She was diagnosed almost five years ago with vascular dementia – a disease similar to Alzheimer’s in course but brought on by small strokes in the brain tissue.
Her house had to be sold. That means no more sleepovers, no more Sunday roasts (although if truth be told, she forgot how to make that a couple years ago), no more avo’s house. No more meals with the family in the basement.
Food really does take you places. Today, I am back in my grandmother’s basement with my cousins.