1. My mom's "hobo casserole." I don't think that is what we called it - I'm pretty sure my sister-in-law named it that out of pure disgust. It was potatoes, hot dogs and celery in a white roux. I'm guessing it evolved out of desperation one night when my mom realized she had to feed a family of 7 and only had a few potatoes, one hot dog and a stalk of celery. She made it work - and to this day, I bet my siblings and I would fight over who gets the most pieces of hot dogs on our plates. Memories of that one meal (always served in a 5 qt silver Dutch oven) remind me of home, of family, of warmth, of comfort.
2. Ill apologize in advance to my dad or brothers reading, but the other thing that came to mind is the beautiful action of unhooking my bra each night. Ahhhhhhhh - comfort.