My dad grew up in Kanab, UT (pop. 1200). The first time he saw or ate pizza was during his first tour of duty in Vietnam. :eek:
Wow. I have an uncle who opened a bed-and-breakfast in Kanab. He no longer lives there, but wow anyway.
I’m 43 and my own family wasn’t all that whitebread, but we lived in Whitebread, USA. When I was in 10th grade, I discovered that my classmates had never heard the term “pasta” and here’s how: we were doing a science experiment that involved testing for starches somehow. Not wanting to write “macaroni” I wrote “pasta” on my sheet, which I guess I had to leave somewhere or something. Everyone in the class was asking “What’s passed-ah?”
Exactly.
:smack:
Yes, I did. The memory is so horrible and un-nerving that my fingers refused to type the name correctly for fear of bringing back his diseased corpse from whatever hell it’s been rotting in. :eek:
I was born in 1969. I grew up lots of places, but spent most of my childhood in Quincy, IL. Quincy’s demographics represent about the nation’s average, so there were people of various ethnicities there. Quincy is and was at that time, less segregated than Chicago. The neighborhoods that I lived in had people from a variety of backgrounds. Nevertheless, our kitchen was whitebread.
Miss no more! (I wanted to know what they were. Never heard of 'em before.)
If you ever went to a friend’s house and were served spaghetti with ketchup, you probably did.
Oooo, I might just have to order some to see how they compare to memory. Unfortunately, they only have the chocolate and peanut butter – the caramel ones were always my favorite.
My mom is kinda white bread, but remarkably adventurous considering her upbringing. My grandmother:
- Makes her chili sweet instead of spicy
- serves every meal accompanied by a plate stacked high with wonder bread – not toasted or anything, just there, like it’s a side dish
- Has a rack of spices so old that the last time I visited, I picked one up and the label crumbled to dust in my hand
- Each and every sandwich she makes starts with butter, no matter what else is on it. Can be very… surprising.
- Speaking of sandwiches – her favorite are “ham salad” sandwiches: Oscar Meyer bologna chopped up and mixed with celery and Miracle Whip to form a ghastly chunky pink goo, which is spread (with butter!) on plain white bread. Lunch! ::shudder::
- Makes Jello with fruit and vegetables trapped inside. (I can’t belive no one’s mentioned this yet - I thought this was a standard 50s thing? Is she just insane?)
- Tops casseroles and mashed potatoes with frozen potato chips
- A recipe she has started making very recently when she’s feeling adventurous: Chow Mein. This is made by dumping your canned veggies – whatever you have on hand – in with boiling spaghetti. Drain and serve.
- I once made scrambled eggs for breakfast while visiting her, and she couldn’t eat them because I had added salt and pepper and they were too spicy for her.
Going out solves nothing because she always wants to leave the tip, but never tips more than a dollar. I’ve had to start carrying a purse when we go out with her specifically so I can pretend to forget it and go back to put a decent tip on the table. (I hate purses.)
This caused me to involuntarily claw at my tongue. :eek:
My husband told me that his mother always put butter on his sandwiches, as well. He HATES butter on his sandwiches, and used to beg her to remember not to put it on there, but I guess she just thought a good sandwich always starts with butter! 
I’ve known quite a few people who feel bread must be buttered no matter what it’s going to be used for.
Luckily my mom was a butter-optional person if you were going to be using mustard, mayo or peanut butter & jelly.
Ugh, my grandma always put butter on my PB&J sandwiches. My cousin couldn’t stand it, but she didn’t want to be rude, so she convinced my grandma that she just didn’t like pb&j. She always though my cuz was a weird kid anyway…
Oh yeah? Well *we * went to Shoney’s. So there.
An English friend used to spread butter on bread no matter what else she was going to put: cream cheese, hummus, jam, whatever. Bleeugh!
My Mum says that when she first arrived in England, in 1959, the whole country was so “white bread” that eating salad and spaghetti was considered exotic and daring. Then again, this is the same sophisticate who ordered a steak on her first visit to a Chinese restaurant, and drinks instant coffee - by choice to - this day!
that should read:
…drinks instant coffee - by choice - to this day.
I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.
I’m right there with you on the Antiques Road Show array of spices. When my grandmother died we went through her cabinet and found things decorated with the original labels from the fifties. Neat, but gross.
OK, somebody mentioned not white bread, but white trash.
Picture this: me (since you’re imagining let’s say I am tall, thin and fabulous) outside a pool hall, eating chitlins out of tin foil and drinking RC from a two liter bottle. Hot. Oh yeah, baby. Super hot.
This is how I learned to love pizza. My mom let us kids make our own using this product, and Friday nights became our regular “pizza night”. To this day, I still have Friday night pizza (usually), and although probably a little more sophisticated than back then, I recall those days with the utmost fondness.
Pizza and Tarzan movies with Johnny Weismueller, or maybe a good scary movie like “The Wolfman” with Lon Chaney Jr. Kind of “white bread” I reckon.