A short story about love, UX and perfect meals

This article was published in UX collective

My first birthday

This was my first birthday. And those behind me and my brother were our grandparents.

My grandmother was accusing us of being “picky eaters”. Of course she was. She was born in 1923. In a time when you were actually lucky if you could eat everyday.

I was born in 1981. In a time of abundance and I was choosing what I wanted to eat (and mostly what I didn’t want).

We were eating every lunch everyday at my grandmother place because my parents were both working.

She was challenged.

She took grand parenting and eating very very seriously.

Of course she didn’t choose to prepare us everything all together. This would be a disgrace. And a waste of food. A disgraceful waste of food.

She decided to get in the long time research. She began preparing small variation of the same meal and she was testing it with us. (At that time no, I didn’t know anything about A-B testing).

She remembered the results, even noticed it down when she realised she was getting older: my brother likes spicy food, I could not digest garlic, my uncle had some problem with mushrooms and my grandpa loved overcooked spaghetti.

Nowadays I cook for my kids and I always have leftovers. But at her place no. There were no leftovers.

She mastered it.

My grandmother died last January.

I didn’t realise what was she doing. She was from another generation and she saw the world changing. She adjusted and learned.

She took the challenge of feeding us with healthy food and made the best out of it.

She worked in silence and we barely noticed what she was doing. We just knew she was loving and caring. And we were all very happy to have lunch at her place and went back every day. Of course was not only for the food.

The food was just an excuse.

And it was perfect.