Welcome to the . . .
This month’s Museum of Me exhibit is all about . . . the foods we eat now that we never imagined eating as a child.
But. Where to even START with this one? Because this is a topic that is both deep and wide when it comes to the culinary differences in my life between now . . . and then. I know I’ve alluded to some of this in posts before . . . How my mom was not really all that interested in cooking — and how the “convenience” food trends of the late 1950s/1960s influenced her menu planning in a big way. How my dad just inhaled his food anyway, and didn’t really care all that much what it was . . . as long is it was meat-and-potatoes (and that meat was pork or beef and it was very well-done, thankyouverymuch). Our meals were basic, 1960s fare: a meat, a potato, and a (most often) canned vegetable. That said, I never went hungry. I was grateful for dinners with my family every day. I didn’t complain much (except about the vegetables, and especially the canned peas and the creamed corn). And . . . I didn’t know any better. All my friends, my cousins, my neighbors . . . they all had similar meals around their tables. (We did, though, enjoy big, special family meals for holidays — and we always got to pick our favorite foods on our birthdays.) (I always chose lasagne. And a chocolate birthday cake.)
So. It would be easiest for me to reverse this topic and just tell you all the foods I ate regularly as a child . . . that I can’t imagine eating now! So to make it quick, here goes: canned vegetables (notably creamed corn), mashed potatoes from a box, overcooked pork chops, overcooked meatloaf, overcooked eggs, sugary cereals, strawberry milk, shriveled overcooked hamburgers, Velveeta cheese, Cambell’s Cream of Mushroom soup, and rhubarb pie (there’s a story there; bonus if you keep reading).
My current diet? Not even remotely similar to my childhood diet. Different ballparks (different universes) entirely. So this looked like an exhibit I could just walk away from with very little effort with this simple statement:
Every single thing I eat now . . . I couldn’t have imagined eating as a child. End. Of. Story.
But then I remembered this . . .
and decided to take this exhibit in a whole new direction!
This was my mom’s cookbook. In fact, it was the only cookbook she owned when I was a child (we referred to it as “the cookbook,” as in . . . the only one). She received it as a gift at her wedding shower in 1956 — when the second edition of the Betty Crocker cook book was hot off the presses (featuring more photos and expanded menu planning tips and new drawings!). She didn’t use it all the time, but it was her single cooking reference, and when she needed inspiration or instruction . . . this is the book she turned to! (It was also my first cookbook when I was learning to bake cookies.) She also had a recipe box stuffed full of recipes from friends and relatives and co-workers and magazines, and that’s where my mom stored most of her tried-and-true recipes. But when she wanted to pull out the stops, she pulled out the Betty Crocker.
When my mom died, I took the Betty Crocker Cook Book home with me. Now it sits on my shelf alongside my more modern favorites. I like to get it out now and again . . . it’s full of memories for me. The book automatically opens up to one of two pages: EITHER the page that features recipes for Chocolate Chip Cookies, Old-Time Cinnamon Jumbles (think Snickerdoodles), and Sugar Cookies — all favorites from my childhood, OR it opens to the page with the Swedish Meatball recipe — a Christmas Eve staple in our family.
I’ve also discovered some real treasures within the pages of my mom’s cookbook . . . like this receipt from the butcher for our Christmas Eve feast back in 1966! (Prime rib. She was going for the Big Time that year!) (But I’ll bet it was overcooked. Just sayin.) And . . . the recipe for Almond Crescent cookies. Now those cookies were one of my favorite Christmas cookies when I was a child. At some point, though, my mom stopped making them (likely subbing some newer, tasty cookie – that didn’t require rolling out – along the way). I always remembered them, though, and as an adult, I asked her for the old recipe. We looked and looked for it — through all of the recipes in her recipe box and her recipe folder. We couldn’t find it anywhere! Turns out, though, that it was in the Betty Crocker Cook Book all along! (I may actually try them, now that I’ve found the recipe.) (They were really good, but fussy. And my mom? She was not about the fussy when it came to cooking/baking.)
The best thing I found, though?
It’s this . . .
It’s my mom’s home-baked specialty . . . Fresh Rhubarb Pie (she had the page bookmarked with the Libby’s Famous Pumpkin Pie recipe she always made at Thanksgiving). My mom was not really a pie-baker . . . but she loved a piece of good rhubarb pie served with a generous helping of vanilla ice cream. We ate rhubarb pie all the time when I was growing up; it was a special treat for all of us.
But I never eat rhubarb pie anymore . . . as an adult.
And I’m sure you’re all wondering why.
So. Here’s the bonus story. . .
When Tom and I were first dating, my mom had me invite him over for pie. (I knew she must really like him, because she was making her rhubarb pie just for him.) She served up big pieces of still-warm pie with vanilla ice cream, and we all dug in. When Tom and I left (to go to a movie, probably), I asked him if he liked the pie. He just looked horrified. Because . . . he hated it! He hadn’t ever had rhubarb pie before, and the texture? It gagged him. But he was such a good boyfriend, and he liked my mom so much, that he forced down every bite of his serving. (He claims the ice cream saved him. His strategy was . . . bite of pie, bite of ice cream to chase it down. Repeat.)
He begged me not to tell my mom.
But of course I did.
Because otherwise, she’d have believed he liked it — and he’d have been served it on the regular. It became a family joke; a story we tell (with much love and a lot of laughter) to this day. Because I was a supportive girlfriend (now wife), I gave up rhubarb pie in Tom’s presence. That was his last piece. And, for the most part, mine, too.
Diets change.
Memories remain.
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How about YOU? What foods do you eat now . . . that you never imagined eating as a child? (Feel free to reverse that. What foods did you eat as a child . . . that you can’t imagine eating now?)
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Thanks for visiting the Museum of Me. Watch for new exhibits . . . on the 2nd Friday of each month. If you’re a blogger and you’d like to create a Museum of Me along with me on your own blog, let me know. I’ll send you our “exhibit schedule” (a list of monthly prompts) and we can tell our stories together.
Good story, Kym. My situation is similar. Very little of what I cook & eat are anything I could imagine as a child. To be fair to our Moms though, food has “fashion cycles” just as clothing does.
The things that I cook that are most surprising are various ethnic dishes. Good Chinese restaurants are disappearing fast. So I bought a Cooks Illustrated book with Chinese recipes that I make regularly….and I’m sure they are healthier than carry out (low sodium soy sauce, no MSG, less fat, etc). I even have a recipe for Crispy Baked Eggrolls that my husband requests.
Then there are Middle Eastern dishes: various home made hummus recipes, tabouleh, za’tar chicken.
Also, I mix up my own spice blends: Taco seasoning, Greek seasoning, Italian blend, za’tar, herbs de Provence. That way I know there are no added salts and fillers in them. I even have a recipe for hoisin sauce (thank you very much pandemic.)
And meatless recipes. Growing up, a meal was not a meal unless there was meat (except for Friday’s during Lent).
Finally, the most surprising thing is that almost all of my recipes are in an app: Paprika Recipe Manager. I LOVE this app…it means my recipes are with me at the cabin up north, in the grocery store for quick reference while shopping. It is searchable by ingredient if there’s something I need to use up. It is just the best.
Thanks for your story. Happy cooking….and eating.
Just like at your house, our meals were definitely a product of the times. It didn’t help that cooking was an awful chore for my mother and much of the food (canned and instant) was also awful. My mother had one cookbook except it was the Better Homes and Gardens red and white checked one. You can always tell if the recipe was a good one by the splatters on the pages. One of the most remarkable things is that butcher receipt – a 17 lb prime rib for $16.66?! I think I might have paid more than that per pound last Christmas! Here’s hoping you have a piece of rhubarb pie the next time Tom goes on a fishing trip!
Very much the same as you, Kym. Ugh, the gray-green canned peas (that I’d slide off the edge of my plate and try to hide under the rim) and, especially, that hideous creamed corn. My mom was adventurous in her cooking for special occasions but she didn’t really enjoy the day-to-day*… which might have had a lot to do with having to do it on the regular & all alone for five kids, who were most certainly underfoot.
*I think everyone gets dragged down by the day-to-day on occasion. 😉
Growing up in the 50s & 60s, our meals were similar to what you described. We were lucky that we grew up in a small town surrounded by dairy farms, truck (vegetable) farms, & orchards, so for a good part of the year we enjoyed fresh fruits and vegetables. Both of my grandmothers canned various vegetables and when we ran out of that in the winter, we ate canned veggies from the grocery store. My father was a mechanic and had his own business and I remember farmers would often pay him in produce-apples, potatoes, onions, eggs, &chickens.
As far as meat, we had mostly chicken, lamb, & pork. We had beef mainly on Sundays and special occasions. We also had a local fish monger, so we had fish at least once a week in addition to things like salmon patties and sardine sandwiches. Things like goulash, spaghetti, & various stews were often on the menu. My mother didn’t go for the processed foods that were growing in popularity at that time, probably due to the cost of feeding 5 kids. We only had soda for birthday parties.
I can’t think of anything I ate then that I wouldn’t eat now, but I use more seasonings and don’t overcook everything. About the only food I didn’t like as a kid was liver and I still don’t like it.
Those meals sound very familiar—overcooked meat, especially pork because you might get trichinosis! We had a lot of frozen vegetables, which aren’t nearly as unappetizing as canned veggies. But the mixed vegetables with the dreaded Lima beans! No way.my dad’s favorite was liver and onions. I couldn’t eat it then, and I can’t eat it now.
Like others, I don’t “do” liver (texture & taste), but we had it a lot because my Dad was always borderline anemic (he’d find out when trying to donate blood at work). As I mentioned in my comments on Kat’s and Bonny’s blogs, I was fortunate in that my Mom was an excellent cook and enjoyed it. We ate a huge variety of food and a lot of fresh veggies. Plus, my Dad gardened and grew green beans, wax beans, yellow squash, raspberries and blueberries, tomatoes, etc., etc. As a kid I did not care for turnips or parsnips and now I love them both. We never had yogurt or tofu – I don’t think we even knew what tofu is back in the 50’s and 60’s. I have most (if not all) of my Mom’s cookbooks and I love opening them up and finding pressed flowers or fall leaves. I even found a recipe for “Arabian Pork Chops” which my Dad always made for us when my Mom was out of town! Fun topic.
Oh dear. That would be grounds for divorce, unless there was some way to get rhubarb pie on the regular for myself. So I guess your marriage must be true love …
What a treasure that cookbook is! I’m sure we’d be horrified at some of the uber-unhealthy ingredients in it, but it’s got to be a great walk down memory lane. My mother also had a big accordion folder of recipe cards, a number of them from long-gone relatives (like the three versions of my great-grandmother’s challah stuffing written in her handwriting, all of them a little different — it’s a favorite at Thanksgiving).
I simply cannot play this game right now (but will, in my own head, throughout the day!), but it sure is memory-invoking. (Memory provoking, perhaps?) Like this jingle for Sugar Pops: “Oh the Pops are sweeter and the taste is new; they’re shot with hot with sugar through and through!” OMG, what a sales pitch. Thank goodness we never had sugary cereal on my childhood breakfast table.
Coding error. Only the first three letters of “provoking” was supposed to be italicized. Too much of a rush, I guess.
My father used to make rhubarb pie but I never tried it.
It saddens me deeply that “easy” meant from a box or a can. I was a solo parent for all my kids lives (pre-divorce, he traveled every week… leaving on Sunday or Monday and not getting home until late on Friday) I cooked meals every day. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner… nothing from a box, or a can. Was it work? Yes… but the best work. We talked, or the kids read a book out loud while I cooked. And when they got older, everyone did a part for a meal. It was truly a labor of love… those memories are the best things ever.
That being said… the rhubarb story with Tom… THE BEST! What a champ to gag that pie down! (a keeper for SURE!)
My mother-in-law’s specialty was pies. My favorite was her rhubarb pie which I had never eaten before. But she was a master pie baker. They were all good! I hated mushrooms as a kid. Eat plenty now! Still not a fan of liver. Although I will entertain the thought at certain restaurants where you know it will be calf’s, not beef and lightly cooked, not dried out and barfy. Have become acquainted with Cook’s magazine recently through a flyer advertising their magazine. Their tips and tricks: such a resource.
This is such a beautifully written post, Kym. I loved reading about your memories of childhood meals, even if they weren’t sensational for your taste buds they were good for your soul (and character development!) Tom and the rhubarb pie reminds me of Dale and my mother’s clam cakes. I had told her that he loved them so she made the for him and he took one bite and looked at me and said “what the heck is IN these?” and I said, clams? Turns out, the clam cakes Dale “loved” came from the drive in and there was really only a . . . hint . . . of clams and no ACTUAL clams. We still laugh about that one!
I never ate cottage cheese, mushrooms, chinese food of any kind (except my mom’s mock chow mein, made mainly of celery, onion, and tuna — I loved it!), spaghetti (dad said it was too spicy), pizza (ditto) until I was in high school. Mom was a decent cook, but a star baker. She made bread every Saturday, including cinnamon rolls — yum! She raised chickens until she went back to teaching when I was eight. I remember many a meal of hard boiled eggs, mashed with a fork, topped with butter, salt, and pepper.
The thing that amazes me when I look back is my mother LIVED in the kitchen. She had 5-6 kids to feed 3 times a day. Three squares a day. She believed in vegetables (fresh or canned–mostly by her hands). We had a crudite plate every night and a plate of homemade pickles as accompaniment to the meal at (almost) every dinner. We ate at home 365-3 meals a day! I can’t imagine ever doing that as a mom. From here I admire her so much. I liked her then, but wow, she was supermom.
We ate similarly to your family, except since we lived on a farm, and among other farmers, we had lots of fresh vegetables and fruits during the summer and into early fall.
Your story about Tom and the rhubarb pie brings back memories of my dad and Aunt Jessie’s chocolate pudding. Aunt Jessie was a great aunt on my mom’s side, and for the years we lived in my childhood home, she came for Christmas dinner. And always brought a chocolate pudding, which seemed like chocolate jello with nuts, “because Leonard likes it so much.” (Chocolate jello, like lime jello, not like chocolate jello pudding – it must have been made with unflavored gelatin or some other, even more obscure way.
) Over the years, it became smaller, because I think she did realize no one else took any. (She made the BEST cookies, but that chocolate pudding — ugh.) I have no memory of the first time she brought it, and if I remember, my dad didn’t either. I only remember that the leftovers (and of course there always WERE leftovers) always stayed at our house — because Leonard liked it so much. My dad’s been gone for 40 years now, but I can still see his face when I think of this story.