Published November 28, 2023
As the holiday season approaches, a wave of nostalgia often washes over us, particularly when it comes to food. Recently, while waiting for my turn at the office microwave, I overheard a colleague reminiscing about her mother’s sweet potato pie, her eyes sparkling as she recalled family gatherings. This led another co-worker to share fond memories of his mother’s comforting chicken and dumplings, recalling how he and his siblings would help roll out the dough. I chimed in with appreciative noises, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of being an outsider in these culinary conversations.
My mother, a wonderful woman, didn’t whip up the traditional dishes that often populate these nostalgic tales. Instead, my upbringing was steeped in the realm of processed food, where my favorite meals came from recognizable boxes and cans. These dishes often had their own jingles, and their ingredients were as synthetic as they were familiar. Our family recipes came not from cherished handwritten notes but from the backs of packages.
Despite this, I find myself feeling as nostalgic as anyone else when I think of those meals. I recall chilly Midwestern evenings spent with rolled towels stuffed under windows, as my mom served Campbell’s Chunky Beef Stew over plates of Minute Rice. The flavor of the rice, bland yet comforting, melded perfectly with the savory gravy, creating a cozy atmosphere that contrasted with the cold outside.
I remember potluck dinners, sifting through Jell-O salads to find mom’s signature Idahoan scalloped potatoes. Those delightfully starchy slices, topped with a golden-brown sauce, were always a hit. I would fill my plate, relishing the freedom that potlucks offered to indulge in desserts on the other side.
Lunchtimes in elementary school were filled with the excitement of watching The Price Is Right while my mom prepared gooey grilled cheese sandwiches made with Velveeta. My favorite part was cutting the smooth orange slices from the block of cheese, which felt like a little victory in the kitchen.
The 1970s marked the peak of processed food culture, and my mom, though she cared about our nutrition, leaned on convenience. A meal was deemed healthy if it included something from all four food groups, so Tuna Helper and canned green beans became staples in our household.
As the years progressed, the generics began to invade our pantry. One day, after a particularly tough day in sixth grade, I found a plain white box on the shelf labeled “Ready-to-Eat Corn Flakes.” It seemed like a harbinger of doom. Slowly, the colorful brand names vanished, replaced by dull substitutes that felt like markers of poverty, especially after my father’s unemployment benefits expired.
My mother tried to reassure me, insisting that the generics were just as good and cheaper due to their minimalist packaging. This sparked a science fair project where I rigorously tested the quality of generic products versus their brand-name counterparts. Despite my meticulous efforts, the generics consistently ranked lower in taste and quality. However, my mother remained unfazed, continuing to buy the cheaper options.
Eventually, as financial stability returned, the familiar brand names made a comeback. It took years for me to recognize that those brands, once the epitome of convenience, represented an era often criticized for its culinary choices. Friends from more diverse backgrounds didn’t share my fondness for these products; they were often deemed unhealthy.
Now, as a parent myself, I strive to limit processed foods for my children, yet I also feel the urge to share those nostalgic treats that brought me joy. To keep my mother’s memory alive, this holiday season, amidst organic options and free-range turkey, we also enjoyed Pillsbury Sugar Cookies and Stove Top stuffing. I plan to make Mock Wild Rice with Campbell’s French Onion Soup this winter, claiming it as “your Grandma’s special recipe,” a nod to the past that I cherish.
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In summary, while my culinary upbringing may have revolved around processed foods, it has shaped my views on food and nostalgia. I aim to balance healthier choices for my children while sharing cherished memories of my own childhood.