Okay, I have a minute, so here's mine:
Dad's mother - Fried chicken on Sunday, no question. We had it at home and elsewhere, but the memory goes right to her dinner table.
Mom's mother - Well, it sounds silly to say fried eggs, but I have a few very special memories of times when I was staying overnight with her and she made eggs, the frying and the taste of which are indelibly linked to the total memory of those happy occasions. What's more, half a century later, every damned time I fry eggs myself, I am making "those" eggs.