My family was so White Bread that......

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
121

I don’t think anyone has mentioned scalloped potatoes: slices of potato alternated with slices of Velveeta, then baked till all hot and bubbly. Preferably topped with crushed crackers, right?

Maybe because the real “white bread” cooking in my family is committed by my grandparents and not my parents, I can’t work up the same feelings of horror that the rest of you do. I am quite fond of creamy casseroles and jello monstrosities. I think they’re fun.

I do draw the line when grandpa “colors” the gravy with coffee. That’s not cool.

And don’t forget–as some of the entries in this thread have shown–white bread cooking is a distinct cuisine, just like any other, and to some billions of people out there, it’s pretty damn foreign.

122

I broke up with a guy over Cheese Whiz (an even fakier version of cheese) because after I slaved over a gourmet meal for him, he proceeded to spoon Cheese Whiz over it. Muthafuckah…get out of my house.

123

Wait, did you supply the Cheez Whiz? Are you an enabler?

124

You had Velveeta? Hedonist. :slight_smile: Ours was made with cream of celery soup.

125

That’s one area where I guess I was lucky, cheese. We lived in Oregon and Washington, where wonderful Tillamook cheese was available, so I grew up on heavenly yummy real cheddar and such. My mom kept American slices to put on her own sandwiches, but I refused to eat them. To this day I can’t stand fake cheese.

My husband was an adult before he learned that shrimp don’t just come out of the freezer heavily breaded.

And I forgot the wonderful “salad” his cousin served when she laid out the Miracle Whip tacos – a bed of iceberg lettuce spread in a 9x12 baking pan, topped with absolutely nothing but about a 1/2" thick layer of Miracle Whip.

You know, few of these foods individually are actually that awful. It’s just what our mothers did to them that turned them into blandness par excellence. (I say that as someone who still likes Mom’s meatloaf, which consisted of ground beef mixed with some crushed saltines, topped with ketchup.)

126

Are you my brother???

127

I’m ashamed to admit this, but we lived in Seattle for a couple of years before we ventured out for Chinese food. We thought Chinese restaurants were for Chinese people, Italian for Italians, etc. We didn’t think we’d be welcome.

Ugh, the ideas you get from growing up rural in the 50’s.

128

Inspired by AuntiePam’s post above.
Three houses down from us lived a Chinese family. We didn’t know them as well as the ladies who lived in the two houses in between did, although one of the daughters walked to school regularly with me for a while. We did know that they had a Chinese restaurant, which we frequented. Anyway, when their oldest son got married (by which point the other folk had moved)–to a nice Chinese girl (arranged marriage-- courtship by shouted telephone call. Wedding in China, six months later wedding in U.S. once the paperwork was completed. Hi, pregnant bride)–my parents were invited to the reception. It occurred late in the evening, so my brother and I declined to attend. My parents, one familiar blond waitress* and her daughter were the only white folk there. Everyone else was Chinese. The food, while very tasty and reportedly very expensive, was VERY Chinese-- shark fin soup, and a variety of other delicacies which bore no resemblence to the standard fare at the restaurant. My parents were grateful to be seated at a table with a nice Chinese American businessman who spoke good English and was knowledgable about the food, and Chinese traditions.

*This particular blond waitress worked for them for years. We often saw only family members or this blond waitress–until the time that they bought a second restaurant. After that point, it became more common to see other Chinese persons working at the restaurant as well.

129

Not only have I seen this, it brings back fond memories. My mother had several of those cookbooks.

My parents graduated high school in 1960. My Dad became a bookkeeper, and my Mom became what most women those days became: a secretary. I was born in '62. Remember that show The Wonder Years? That was my life. I taped every episode just to bask in the nostalgia from time to time.

My Dad was a Dodge man. We had a white station wagon with fake woodgrain side panels. (Sometime in the 80s he bought my Mom a Toyota Celica, and shortly thereafter a Corolla for himself. He won’t ever buy anything else.) He read Dress For Success and all those other corporate ladder-climbing books, and for the first ten or twelve years of my life I never saw him take off his tie before dinner. He did try to loosen up a little in the 70s, but he wouldn’t be caught dead in a ‘leisure suit’.

My grandparents were humble country folk, and my mother was the eldest daughter of five children. She learned the art of good country cooking at an early age, and I grew up on the Food of the Gods: fresh vegetables, fried chicken, country-fried steak and gravy, and homemade biscuits that are so good that if you try to take one from me, I will guarantee you serious bodily harm.

Naturally, all of this was taken for granted sometime around 1969 when my parents attained a firm foothold in the middle class, became socially active, and bought a new house in the Wonder Years neighborhood.

Tang. Chef-Boy-Ardee. Hamburger Helper. Fondue parties, for heaven’s sake. :rolleyes:

Thankfully, that Era of Regrettable Food went the way of embroidered denim jackets (yeah, I had one of those, too). My parents broadened their culinary horizons. My Mom is still a fabulous cook, and against my doctor’s better judgement, still makes me steak and gravy and biscuits on special occasions. My Dad is semi-retired, and only wears a tie to church on Sunday morning.

He still likes cheese sandwiches (made with Kraft singles), though. :stuck_out_tongue:

130

Dammit, I still make grilled cheese with American slices, each loving removed from it’s plastic wrap!

:smiley:

131

So do I, just because it melts right. Cheddar is too hard, and Velveeta shudder turns to soup.

But plain white bread with mayo and a slice of American? Yuck.

132

I had been making grilled cheese sandwiches with Kraft American slices my whole life, until this year. Recently, I made them for the first time with Velveeta slices. I’d never tasted them before, and as a matter of fact, they tasted even better than the other kind. And the Velveeta did not turn to soup, nor leak over the sides. They were about as perfect grilled cheese sandwiches as I’ve ever seen. My equally white-bread wife thought so, too. I dip mine in ketchup. She dips hers in applesauce. Applesauce? Does anyone else do this?

133

Ketchup? No. Applesauce? No.

Catalina salad dressing? Yes.

134

I was browsing through my Mom’s recipe collection this morning looking for her Cottage Cheese Salad recipe (yes, I’m making it for Thanksgiving and yes, it involves crushed pineapple and Jello) when I came across a hand-scrawled recipe for Potato Chip Cookies.

I don’t think she ever actually made them. I may have to send her a card thanking her for that.

When Mom and Dad split and I was living with Dad, he tried his hand at cooking. Baked chicken coated in potato chips. To the rest of the world, potato chips are a snack; in Whitebread World, they’re an ingredient. I was 13. I took over cooking duties after that.

135

Heathens.

Grilled cheese (American slices or Velveeta) should only be dipped in Campbell’s condensed tomato soup.
Hey, speaking of white bread, has anyone tried Wonder’s new White Bread Fans 100% whole grain “white”? It’s frakking fantastic. 16g of whole grains per slice, but with white bread texture and taste - almost. It’s the most wonderful, perfect grilled cheese bread ever devised, and actually not the nutritional equivalent of wallpaper paste! (Just read carefully, because they also have a “Made With Whole Grains” that isn’t 100% whole grains.)

136

Damn right!

And the soup must be made with milk. (Yes, believe it or not some troglodytes make it with water! :eek: )

137

You beat me to it. Of course grilled cheese gets dipped in tomato soup.
It’s best after a day spent playing in the snow.

138

I started this poll once to discover whether or not Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup is a soup or merely an ingredient. I say it’s an ingredient, but my grandmother serves it as a meal with a side of Saltine crackers!

139

No…we lived together briefly and he smuggled it in under his shirt. Whaddya, think I’m nuts??

140

Me too. And don’t forget a big glass of chocolate milk!