Page One Hundred Forty-Three.
Thank heavens for the 1960's. What with all the improvements made to food during that decade and the one prior, it's amazing we survived as a race during all the millions of years prior eating the de-evolved food available until then.
By the '60's we had dried potatoes that you simply added water to and viola, mashed potatoes. We had frozen dinners that you simply shoved in the oven and 45 minutes later viola, steamy, hot salisbury steak with peas and carrots. We had cans of pasta with sauce already added that you simply heated up on the stove and viola, deeply satisfying bowls of beefaroni, a food in fact, that didn't even exist prior to the 1950's. How we got along without these instant dishes of food is anybody's guess.
In the late 60's or early 70's my mother told me that "nobody actually makes mashed potatoes from scratch anymore. It's so much work. Everybody makes them from Potato Buds nowadays." The fact is, many people really did make them from a box and still do. If in a hurry, they can't be beat. Also, I remember my mother complaining about me on the phone to a friend one day. "I don't know why he complains that there's no food in the house. The freezer is filled with Swanson frozen chicken dinners." Again, there's a place when frozen is quite valuable. Kids can make themselves "food" when home alone. Problem is: chemicals; preservatives; excessive processing; tremendous amounts of fat; artificial flavors/colors; lack of fruits and vegetables; lack of vitamins and minerals. Need I continue?
Those advertising executives from the mid-20th century put a lot of energy into convincing people that food was evolving and this was the wave of the future. And many busy parents wanted to believe it. Prepared food was cheap, quick and easy. It was messiah in a box. And many of us literally grew into adulthood eating that stuff. Too bad if we were being malnourished while eating it.
Today, we're doing something similar to our children: taking them for fast food too often. When I was a kid, we went out a few times a month and then it was a special occasion. Even fast food was considered special. (Of course, it really was compared to frozen, canned and boxed which I ate otherwise.) In 2013, how many children eat 3, 4 or more dinners per week from restaurants? A shockingly large number. And then we wonder about the obesity epidemic. That restaurant food is laden with fat and chemicals. We no longer need advertising executives convincing us how wonderful frozen is. We already know that. So today they convince us to spend our hard earned money in restaurants. But again, we're being malnourished while eating it. However, malnourishment is a mere technicality. After all, as my parents believed, there are so many more important things to do than spend one hour a day making fresh food.
I know of a famous story which has made the rounds of Cleveland Heights cocktail parties during the last few years. A well known Cleveland Heights bachelor invited the governor of Ohio, the governor's wife and a few other high placed friends over for dinner. When everyone arrived, he ushered them all into his stunning, exorbitantly expensive kitchen, opened the freezer and asked each guest which type of Stouffer's frozen entree they'd like to eat for dinner. Granted, Stouffer's frozen entrees are an Ohio product, made in Solon, a Cleveland suburb, as a matter of fact. So perhaps he was illustrating his civic pride, but in a very dubious manner, if you ask me. More likely, he truly believed that "the future is now"! Frozen or prepared food is the next evolution in eating.
Give me old style, 19th century food any day of the week.
Showing posts with label Stouffer's Frozen Foods. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stouffer's Frozen Foods. Show all posts
Monday, September 30, 2013
Friday, July 19, 2013
Grandma Ginny
Page One Hundred-Ten.
My mother's best friend, Virginia, was seriously old-school when it came to "old, protestant, white lady cooking". Which is to say that cooking was so low on her list of priorities that she probably spent more time plotting to overthrow the British throne. She liked to eat, and she enjoyed good food as long as it was severely overly salted, but making it? Not her strength. Interestingly, she did like to entertain. She probably made dinner for the two of us about ten times per year after I became an adult.
Virginia died in '89 when I was twenty-seven and I will admit that she introduced me to a cooking concept that I value to this day: Stouffer's. She could put some romaine lettuce and a peeled, chopped cucumber in a bowl and it was a first course. She could cook up some salt/rice/salt mixture and heat up some frozen Stouffer's creamed chipped beef and it was a main entree (with a can of peas on the side). She could open up a box of Pepperidge Farm chocolate fudge cake and it was dessert. And we were both happy and satisfied. I'll tell you something else, I wouldn't have eaten during my college days if not for Stouffer's and I learned that trick from her.(Interestingly, she could make a great crudite. Baby beets, sweet gherkins, cherry tomatoes, carrot sticks, all fair game.)
She did occasionally, truly, cook. Shudder. One time she had me over and prepared beef heart because she said she had a taste for it. I was polite and ate it, but believe me, I'd have preferred a colonoscopy. Even she admitted that it was too dry. Yeah right. We all know that "too dry" is a delicate Wasp euphemism for shoe leather. (Do you remember that scene where Charlie Chaplin eats his own shoe in the 1925 flick The Gold Rush? Well, I can say, "been there".)
My sister once told me that Virginia invited her over for lunch. My sister arrived to discover that "lunch" consisted of two slices of Brownberry Health Nut bread with Hellman's and a couple slices of tomato and a glass of iced tea. The bread was cut on the bias though, so it looked cute. Virginia explained that these were tomato sandwiches and weren't they just wonderful and refreshing on a warm summer's day? My sister had to stop at McDonald's afterwards to avoid fainting of malnutrition.
Many years later I would learn that Virginia's heritage was heavily responsible for her distinctive perception of food and cooking. As much as the 17th century, white, protestant immigrants to the new world contributed to our wonderful country, a tradition of exotic food wasn't among them. (Virginia's ancestors came over, not on the Mayflower, but shortly thereafter, I believe.)
Only a couple of my nieces and nephews have vague memories of her , but they all know who she is. She's Grandma Ginny. We didn't call her that, my oldest sister came up with that name. (Not the sister Virginia almost starved, the other one.)
I think that Virginia simply got in over her head with my family. My mother was hired by Virginia on a pre-marriage job. Then, after my parents got married and created a large family, we adopted her and she very much became a part of us. Virginia however, had zero personal experience with Jewish or eastern-European culture. As an example, though she attended our Passover Seder every year, she continually exasperated my mother by bringing up the fact that it was Jesus's last meal. She was simply clueless to the irrelevance and insensitivity of a guest bringing something like that up at a traditional Orthodox Jewish Service.
But we truly loved her. She brought us countless gifts and invited us to do fun things. She was always kind and taught us how to play Scrabble. She was the never married elderly aunt that you occasionally read about in Victorian novels. And she was quite hip in her own way. She introduced me to the Congregationalist denomination - nowadays known as the United Church of Christ, a very cool protestant sect in which she was exceedingly active.
By the way, my sister who Virginia didn't try to starve thinks that she was a better cook than I do. So there you go.
My mother's best friend, Virginia, was seriously old-school when it came to "old, protestant, white lady cooking". Which is to say that cooking was so low on her list of priorities that she probably spent more time plotting to overthrow the British throne. She liked to eat, and she enjoyed good food as long as it was severely overly salted, but making it? Not her strength. Interestingly, she did like to entertain. She probably made dinner for the two of us about ten times per year after I became an adult.
Virginia died in '89 when I was twenty-seven and I will admit that she introduced me to a cooking concept that I value to this day: Stouffer's. She could put some romaine lettuce and a peeled, chopped cucumber in a bowl and it was a first course. She could cook up some salt/rice/salt mixture and heat up some frozen Stouffer's creamed chipped beef and it was a main entree (with a can of peas on the side). She could open up a box of Pepperidge Farm chocolate fudge cake and it was dessert. And we were both happy and satisfied. I'll tell you something else, I wouldn't have eaten during my college days if not for Stouffer's and I learned that trick from her.(Interestingly, she could make a great crudite. Baby beets, sweet gherkins, cherry tomatoes, carrot sticks, all fair game.)
She did occasionally, truly, cook. Shudder. One time she had me over and prepared beef heart because she said she had a taste for it. I was polite and ate it, but believe me, I'd have preferred a colonoscopy. Even she admitted that it was too dry. Yeah right. We all know that "too dry" is a delicate Wasp euphemism for shoe leather. (Do you remember that scene where Charlie Chaplin eats his own shoe in the 1925 flick The Gold Rush? Well, I can say, "been there".)
My sister once told me that Virginia invited her over for lunch. My sister arrived to discover that "lunch" consisted of two slices of Brownberry Health Nut bread with Hellman's and a couple slices of tomato and a glass of iced tea. The bread was cut on the bias though, so it looked cute. Virginia explained that these were tomato sandwiches and weren't they just wonderful and refreshing on a warm summer's day? My sister had to stop at McDonald's afterwards to avoid fainting of malnutrition.
Many years later I would learn that Virginia's heritage was heavily responsible for her distinctive perception of food and cooking. As much as the 17th century, white, protestant immigrants to the new world contributed to our wonderful country, a tradition of exotic food wasn't among them. (Virginia's ancestors came over, not on the Mayflower, but shortly thereafter, I believe.)
Only a couple of my nieces and nephews have vague memories of her , but they all know who she is. She's Grandma Ginny. We didn't call her that, my oldest sister came up with that name. (Not the sister Virginia almost starved, the other one.)
I think that Virginia simply got in over her head with my family. My mother was hired by Virginia on a pre-marriage job. Then, after my parents got married and created a large family, we adopted her and she very much became a part of us. Virginia however, had zero personal experience with Jewish or eastern-European culture. As an example, though she attended our Passover Seder every year, she continually exasperated my mother by bringing up the fact that it was Jesus's last meal. She was simply clueless to the irrelevance and insensitivity of a guest bringing something like that up at a traditional Orthodox Jewish Service.
But we truly loved her. She brought us countless gifts and invited us to do fun things. She was always kind and taught us how to play Scrabble. She was the never married elderly aunt that you occasionally read about in Victorian novels. And she was quite hip in her own way. She introduced me to the Congregationalist denomination - nowadays known as the United Church of Christ, a very cool protestant sect in which she was exceedingly active.
By the way, my sister who Virginia didn't try to starve thinks that she was a better cook than I do. So there you go.
Friday, March 8, 2013
On Learning to Make Beef Stroganoff
Page Forty-Six.
My very first restaurant job was in 1978. It was at Subconscious.The Subconscious Sandwich Shop was on Taylor Road, here in Cleveland Heights. It was a few years old when I entered the scene and was already on its second owners. I was sixteen and in the eleventh grade at Cleveland Heights High School. It's just as well that I missed out on the fun of the first owner.
If I remember the gossip correctly, under the first owner you could buy many things besides submarines. Pot, Quaaludes, acid, coke... all for sale, depending upon who was working that day. When I was hired though, it was owned by two middle-aged French ladies. Mrs C. and Mrs Y (that's really what we called them) were Cleveland Heights matrons who needed something to do during the day so they bought the place (and ran it into the ground, but that's another blog). It was a great job for a high school kid: lots of food, lots of other high school kids (as co-workers and patrons) and not stressful. It was also six blocks from my house so I always walked. I did quit the job once, but they took me back. I consider it my primary high school job,
In the twelfth grade, I really got into Stouffer's frozen foods. My favorites were: Chicken Paprikash with Noodles, Spaghetti and Meatballs, Swedish Meatballs with Noodles and Beef Stroganoff with Noodles. One day I was talking to Mrs C. and mentioned, just in passing, my fondness for Stouffer's. She was aghast that I would pay good money for things which I could make at home, which would taste better, be healthier, and ultimately be less expensive. She set out to teach me to make Stroganoff. In retrospect I realize that I had a great teacher in her as she was probably an average-talent French cook. That means by American standards she was a GREAT cook.(One of the secrets to our sub sandwiches was that we sprinkled oregano over the entire thing. This was standard.)
So a real live French cook taught me how to make Beef Stroganoff when I was seventeen years old. What are the keys to a good product? Always cut against the grain whenever cutting beef chunks for any stew and add the sour cream at the very end. Don't let the sour cream cook, unless of course, you're reheating it the next day. Then it's okay, in fact Stroganoff is better the next day..
My very first restaurant job was in 1978. It was at Subconscious.The Subconscious Sandwich Shop was on Taylor Road, here in Cleveland Heights. It was a few years old when I entered the scene and was already on its second owners. I was sixteen and in the eleventh grade at Cleveland Heights High School. It's just as well that I missed out on the fun of the first owner.
If I remember the gossip correctly, under the first owner you could buy many things besides submarines. Pot, Quaaludes, acid, coke... all for sale, depending upon who was working that day. When I was hired though, it was owned by two middle-aged French ladies. Mrs C. and Mrs Y (that's really what we called them) were Cleveland Heights matrons who needed something to do during the day so they bought the place (and ran it into the ground, but that's another blog). It was a great job for a high school kid: lots of food, lots of other high school kids (as co-workers and patrons) and not stressful. It was also six blocks from my house so I always walked. I did quit the job once, but they took me back. I consider it my primary high school job,
In the twelfth grade, I really got into Stouffer's frozen foods. My favorites were: Chicken Paprikash with Noodles, Spaghetti and Meatballs, Swedish Meatballs with Noodles and Beef Stroganoff with Noodles. One day I was talking to Mrs C. and mentioned, just in passing, my fondness for Stouffer's. She was aghast that I would pay good money for things which I could make at home, which would taste better, be healthier, and ultimately be less expensive. She set out to teach me to make Stroganoff. In retrospect I realize that I had a great teacher in her as she was probably an average-talent French cook. That means by American standards she was a GREAT cook.(One of the secrets to our sub sandwiches was that we sprinkled oregano over the entire thing. This was standard.)
So a real live French cook taught me how to make Beef Stroganoff when I was seventeen years old. What are the keys to a good product? Always cut against the grain whenever cutting beef chunks for any stew and add the sour cream at the very end. Don't let the sour cream cook, unless of course, you're reheating it the next day. Then it's okay, in fact Stroganoff is better the next day..
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