Lately, Mrs. Big Dubya has been trying to broaden Little Dub's palate and introduce different foods to his mealtimes. Of course, there are some familiar go-to meals: grilled cheese, mac and cheese, cheese and cheese - anyone else hear Monty Python in their head at the moment? All kidding aside, he does eat more than just cheese. But, other than watch him either spit the food across the room or not-so-subtly drop the offending bite to the floor, it's hard to determine what he likes and does not. I guess it's just one of those things we'll figure out as we go along, but it got me to thinking about what I ate as a child. No, my memory is not good enough to remember what I was eating at Little Dub's age, but I do remember elementary school lunches and snacks, so I thought I'd share my top five. Now, these are after-school snacks and homemade lunches, not the tin-foil wrapped, mutant TV dinners served in 1970s-era school cafeterias. Don't get me wrong, I was right there with everyone else when it was pizza or hot dogs and tater tots. But that concoction they tried to pass off as American Chop Suey? Bleechh. Now, in no particular order, my favorites:
Peanut Butter, Marshmallow and Jelly: A step up from your everyday, run-of-the-mill PB&J, this had the added joy of the most-vacant-of-nutritional-value substances known to man: Marshmallow Fluff. This sandwich was for me and me alone as neither of brothers really enjoyed it as much. As a lunch, this sandwich took commitment during warmer months as the Fluff would inevitably melt and spill out the sides with its co-conspirator the Welch's Grape Jelly. The Skippy tried to maintain order and keep everything together, but it was just no match for the lava-like flow. Yeah, I was the sticky 6-year-old.
Underwood Deviled Ham: Yeah, looking back on this, I'm not really sure what the hell I was thinking, but my mother, along with thousands of others, would send their children to school with this in their Happy Days lunch boxes. I tried it again when I was in the Army, but it didn't do a thing for me. Maybe there was something my mother did that I didn't. Maybe there's a difference between French's mustard from a jar and that from a squeeze bottle? Maybe Wonder Bread does have some redeeming value after all? Ah, another of life's mysteries.
Bologna Sandwiches: My bologna has a first name, it's O-S-C-A-R...I'm not really sure what sway bologna holds over us as children, but as adults most of us avoid it like the scourge of sandwich meats that it is. But again, some French's mustard slathered on Wonder Bread with a couple of slices of processed meat? A culinary masterpiece bar none.
Mini Pizzas (aka Muffin Pizzas): Don't laugh. I had friends in my neighborhood who made a small killing one summer selling these things. If you're going to make them, they really have to be done right. When I was a child, regular American cheese (which would inevitably burn slightly forming a crispy, bitter crust) and some half-assed tomato sauce were fine, my palate not being as refined as it is today. But now? Pizza sauce and mozzarella are necessities and preferably pre-toasted Thomas' English Muffins.
PB&J on Ritz Crackers: Yes, if it isn't obvious, I like PB&J, even now as I near 40 years of age. But when I was a kid, I used to make stacks of these snacking tidbits. The making of them was almost ritualistic. Lay down a paper towel and carefully line up the number of crackers desired. Spread the peanut butter on the cracker first, then add the dollop of grape jelly. Top with another Ritz forming a sandwich and gently press down. Lick off any jelly that makes its way out the sides. Eat cracker whole - taking a bite first will make a mess as the pressure forces the jelly out from under the cracker. It's a science, man.
There you have it. Certainly not a well-rounded or well-balanced menu, but they worked for me. I may have to run out and buy some Fluff, but, I have a dilemma: do I actually spread it on some bread or do I just spoon the stuff directly into my mouth?
What do you have? I'll trade ya!
from its resting place on the chalkboard.
Our apartment lacks a few amenities that most homeowners take for granted, the most notable of which (at least in the summer) is air circulation. Our apartment seems to have a protective ozone layer of it's own which traps greenhouse gases and makes it feel like a Finnish sauna in our living room. We have to crank our TV volume to 11 to hear it over the window air-conditioner, which itself is panting and weezing in a valiant uphill battle to approximate habitable temperatures for us.
Recent Comments