I hope they don't get internet in the afterlife...
My grandmother (god rest her soul etc.) was an amazing woman in many ways, but a hopeless cook. I learned from a young age to consider very carefully before consuming any food she had prepared, in particular anything that involved dairy produce, since she had real trouble spotting when food had gone off.

Her crowning moment was when, at a party in honour of the 40th anniversary of her arrival in the UK -- attended by all her many friends and family -- she served what has since become known as 'rhubarb fizz'. It was supposed to be rhubarb fool, only the cream she used was well past its best, and it had clearly been stored for some time since it had (as the name suggests) acquired an odd sort of fizziness on the tongue.

The family rallied round and managed to prevent any of the guests having to eat it, without actually letting on to her. However being a good little boy I ate all mine. And suffered for it later.

A few years later I was helping her move out of her flat. As we were clearing the kitchen cupboards, I came across some unopened jars of dark brown liquid that had somehow become welded to the cupboard. The stuff that was in it had actually managed (I kid you not) to seep through the bottom of the jars and it was a bugger to move the things. I asked what it was: she told me that it was molasses that she'd brought with her from Canada...40+ years before. I asked her if we should maybe throw it out, but she informed me that it'd be fine after it was boiled up.
( reallywittyname veraciously conspues lexiphanicism on, Thu 17 May 2007, 15:22, Reply)