Im from Illinois too, Chicago, so this story caught my attention really fast. The entire time I read it, I thought of my mom growing up there with her family. My mom has told me many stories about her hometown and I remember each one, maybe for the same reason the author remember the mint snowball.
I dont know if my great grandfather owned a store, I actually dont know much about him, but my grandfather was an important part of my moms life, along with my aunts and uncles. My mom says he had the best cooking she ever tasted, then and now. She describes his food the same way the author described her great-grandfathers, with ALOT of detail. Such as when the author described the process of the Mint Snowball, "He concoted an flamboyant elixir of mint" or "The scoops of rich vanilla ice cream to each side". I dont think anyone can read that and honestly say that they dont want to try it.
Like the author, I never got to try the food my grandpa cooked. For some reason it bums me out a little. I wish I could get together with all of my family and share something that brought us all together. Instead my family is split now and I get to see a few here and there. I havent thought about it for a while but this story has reminded me of the stories ive heard, and makes me want to go to Chicago as soon as I can and see my family.
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