Wednesday, April 20, 2005

you have your issues, I have mine

Abortion, gay marriage, Nazi-youth popes--these things do not bother me.

Bad food bothers me.

I picked up a Kraft "Food & Family" magazine from the community property rack, next to the cafeteria in my office building. It said, "perfect spring desserts" on the cover, but I should have known better. Among other horrors, I found this:

"Fruity hide and seek" cake. Take 1 prepared (purchased, plastic-wrapped) angel food cake. With a serrated knife, cut off the top inch; tunnel out the bottom to make a trench. Mix Jell-O and fruit, chill until thick, spoon into the gutted (store-bought, preservative-filled) angel food cake. Put the top back on the cake and glaze with Cool Whip blended with more Jell-O.

Why in the name of good taste would you go to that much trouble to build a dessert made up entirely of chemicals, that tasted of corn syrup and styrofoam? Recipes like that make me sympathize with Hannibal Lecter.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Ya wanna talk about bad food? Try Civil War army rations. A few decades ago, I did my freshman English research paper on that subject. Often, the soldiers put their salt meat in running water to leach out the halide, then they roasted it to make it palatable.
My ancestors, the farming Gartins of southern Iowa, had salt pork in the larder in the 1870's. After a long winter of such fare, the family wouldn't eat it. Greatgreatgrandma Sarah put it on the table, no one would touch it. Finally, Grandma Sarah laid down the law, "Ya ain't gittin' nuthin' else until this is et!" I don't know if my foremother was all that ungrammatical, but if my father's speech patterns are any clue.... So Grandad Billy told the kids, "OK, we better eat this, or we won't git nuthin' else." Uncle Mac wolfed his portion quickly and exclaimed, "That was purty good. Wisht I had another!" "Here ya go!" said Granddad Billy, placing his piece on Mac's plate. "Gawd, I didn't mean to take nobody else's."

A purportedly true account I came across several years ago involved a family of settlers, seven of them, dining one evening on eight pieces of meat. Each had a piece on his plate. A wind blew up, dousing the light(candle, lamp?). There was a flurry of activity, and a shriek in the darkness. When illumination was restored, it was seen that the littlest child's fork was in the eighth piece of meat, and six forks were in the back of his hand.
OW!!!!
Scotius