How cute are these organic alphabet pasta shapes from Trader Joe’s?! I’m 28 years old and I still couldn’t resist adding the package to my cart. I’m trying to decide what scrumptious dish I should make with them. So many possibilities…so little time. So what do you guys think? Any special recipe suggestions for the most adorable pasta shapes to ever grace my kitchen?
With all the excitement surrounding the announcement of production beginning on the Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs movie, shopping for foodie baby shower gifts, and flipping my lid over the Foodie Babies Wear Bibs book I started remembering all of the stories I loved as a kid that involved food in some way or another.
The Little House books are a prime example of this. They’re full of food. So much so that there’s even a companion cookbook. I was always jealous that Laura Ingalls got to make maple sugar candy, pancake men, and vanity cakes. In real life I just got yelled at if I tried to eat snow, and my grandmother’s attempts at pancake men usually ended up looking slightly decapitated. I guess living on the frontier wasn’t as fantastic as I wanted to believe, unless you were a boy. You see In Farmer Boy, Alonzo got to pull taffy. For some reason that always sounded like an exotic adventure on par with escaping from the Temple of Doom with Indiana Jones. To this day I’ve never had the pleasure of participating in a taffy pull.
I feel obligated to put Blueberries for Sal on this list since I grew up in Maine, but honestly I hated blueberries as a kid. I was forcibly taken on too many marathon berry picking expeditions in the hot summer sun to ever have fond thoughts of the fruit or this classic story. Dear parents: no kid wants to go berry picking for four hours when they can be at home trying desperately to beat Paper Boy on the Nintendo while chain snacking on orange freezer pops.
In contrast, Bread and Jam for Francis is so loved that it’s made the cut out of hundreds of other books I grew up reading and has now been retired to the quiet serenity of my office bookshelf. Very few childhood books received this sort of reverent “put out to pasture treatment.” Even the 60 plus Baby-Sitter’s Club books I cherished were eventually donated to the local library. Why is Bread and Jam for Francis so good? Two words: egg cup. I obsessed about this plot point and pestered my family constantly as to why we didn’t have egg cups. They looked so fancy! I must have an egg cup! It wasn’t the whole jam part of the book, or the not so subtle “it’s good to try new foods idea” that I was enthralled with, but the egg cup illustration on the first few pages. I received my hard boiled eggs in a bowl so obviously in my mind I was very deeply deprived.
Popcorn, pretzels, jelly beans and toast?! What more could a kid ask for?! Charlie Brown’s Thanksgiving still knocks my socks off. I honestly think that someday I’m going to have people over for a “traditional” Snoopy and friends shindig. Who wants to be included on the invite?
If we were doing a High Fidelity inspired top five list than Mickey Mouse’s Picnic would have to be included for most read and beloved picture book of all time. Like previously mentioned books, it wasn’t always the story as a whole that would become memorable for me, but a single piece of the plot or artwork. In Mickey Mouse’s Picnic the mention of “paper tape” fascinated me. In the story, Minnie fastens a knife to to the bottom of the cake pan she’s bringing to their outdoor get together with paper tape. Unfortunately, The picnic feast gets stolen while everyone is frolicking at the swimming hole. The day is surely ruined, but wait! Just in the nick of time Donald appears with a picnic to share with the crowd. Hmm…Mickey and Minnie are suspicious and do a G-rated CSI investigation. Flipping over the cake they find Minnie’s knife stuck to the bottom with the now infamous paper tape. For some reason I was completely befuddled by the idea of paper tape, even after it was explained to me that paper tape was masking tape I still focused on this tiny piece of the tale for years.
Ramona Quimby Age 8 has several chapters where food plays an amusing role. Who can forget when Ramona and Beezus have to make dinner for their parents after they complain about their dad’s cooking? Or how about daredevil Ramona cracking an egg on her head to impress the “Yard Ape.” I still get the quivers thinking about that gooey mess sliding through Ramona’s hair. Ick!
Recently, young adult titles Life as We Knew it, and The Dead and the Gone have given me terrifying food related nightmares and essentially scarred me for the rest of my life. Now every time I’m putting away groceries I think really melancholy thoughts like…what if this box of elbow macaroni and this can of diced peaches is the only food I get to eat for a week because a meteor knocked the moon out of whack and the weather is trying to kill us! And then CK forcibly takes the iced coffee out of my hand and makes me go for a run. I think I’m more afraid of starvation now than my 5-year-old self was afraid of the dark. Thanks Susan Beth Pfeffer!
Are there foodie books from your childhood, that stand out for you still? Please tell me I wasn’t the only freaky kid begging for egg cups and wishing for a pretzel main course at Thanksgiving.
Recently on a brief trip to Portland, Maine to celebrate my friend Holly’s graduation from Grad School (and also to thoroughly scope out the layout of her house so that I can covertly sneak in and “borrow” her brand new Corgi puppy) CK and I decided to make a quick stop in Freeport. Now for any of you that have had the pleasure of visiting Freeport, you know that it’s impossible for the time you spend there to ever be brief. Freeport is not only home to the Flagship L.L. Bean store, but it’s also packed with fabulous small boutiques and outlets. When I was little I loved visiting so I could check out the in-store open aquarium at L..L. Bean and watch the trout swimming at the base of the spiral staircase, and when I got older I loved having the chance to refresh my wardrobe. Therefore it’s been one of my favorite spots in Maine for most of my life.
CK had never been to Freeport, so I made sure to give him the full touristy tour and while we were checking out the large “Home” section at L.L. Bean I lost my mind, apparently forgot momentarily that I actually was from Maine, and bought a New England Maple Baked Beans gift set. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I was seduced by that mini bottle of Maple Syrup and the cute red bow. In case you aren’t aware, Baked Beans are the traditional Saturday night fare in New England and my grandparents always served them with hot dogs and B&M Brown Bread. Yes that’s the bread that comes in a can. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it!
Honestly, growing up, I hated homemade baked beans, and would avoid them at all cost in favor of the one’s that came in a can. But this little gift set has changed my tune. After following the directions for sorting, soaking, prepping, and baking I was rewarded with the most delicious bowl of baked beans I’ve ever had. It probably didn’t hurt that they were full of brown sugar, tart green apple bites, Vermont maple syrup, and a really obscene amount of thick cut bacon. I served my bean “supper” with ridiculously overpriced hot dogs from Whole Foods and whipped up a loaf of Mark Bitman’s Quick Whole Wheat and Molasses Bread, which tastes eerily similar to that bread in a can I have such fond memories of.
So in the Fall, if you’re looking for something hearty to serve a small army than definitely consider trying out this set or whipping up your own homemade batch of baked beans. If you do order the online kit just keep in mind that they’re calling it “Vermont Maple Baked Beans.” In addition, that cute little bottle of amber colored syrup is only a third of the amount that you actually use in the dish so be sure to stock up on your favorite real maple syrup before you begin the time consuming, but definitely worthwhile, cooking process.
Why does this not surprise me? My Women’s Studies professors from college will be so proud! Perhaps someone alerted the quiz scorers to the fact that I have “secret slob” tendencies surrounding closets, cupboards, and cubbyholes? Out of sight clutter doesn’t count in my book. I guess I should have also fibbed about cooking in my pajamas, enjoying a cocktail, and wearing red nail polish. You know the really important parts about having a successful relationship. What kind of a housewife are you? [Link via It's Alive!]
In some ways the above treats are reminiscent of a lot of gifts I’ve given my mother over the years on Mother’s Day. I was always the kid in Sunday School who couldn’t get their Dixie cups packed with Marigold seeds to grow and I’d end up bringing home my mom a cup of dirt for Mother’s Day.
Teacher’s everywhere seem to think that plants are the way to go at this time of year, so in second grade, my teacher Mrs. Eastman, helped us take care of mini Spider Plants. This time I thought I was home free. My plant wasn’t growing from a seed, you simply placed your transplanted piece in the dirt, watered it, and kept your growing journal neat and tidy. Well over the course of the lesson plan my plant got sicker and sicker until it resembled what I can only describe as burnt, limp, french fries. To make matters worse, some punk in my class thought it would be cute to tie my sad little plant to another kid’s plant. The next time my classmate went to collect his pot they both went tumbling to the ground. I probably wanted to cry, or actually did cry. I certainly hope the brat who committed “plant-icide” got his name on the board. In a perfect world he would have been kept in for recess too which as I’m sure you’re all aware is the ultimate in childhood punishments.
These marshmallow treats complete with ragged edges and a slightly indecipherable shape are my virtual gift to my Mom today. I hope that she appreciates the fact that I’m not actually going to make her eat them, and that she enjoys the real gifts that are currently hurtling their way to her in a big brown UPS truck. I cross my heart and promise that the box does not contain a dead plant!
Happy Mother’s Day Wummy! Thanks for always cleaning up after those crazy messes I made in the kitchen and for not yelling at me too much when I’d get into the spice cupboard and make “potions” with the oregano, mustard, and bouillon cubes.
Fruity Butterfly Treats (Based on the Fabulous Original Rice Krispie Treats recipe located at RiceKrispies.com)
3 tablespoons margarine or butter
1 (10 oz.) package regular marshmallows
6 cups Fruity Cheerios
Melt margarine in large saucepan over low heat. Add marshmallows and stir until completely melted. Remove from heat. Add the Fruity Cheerios. Stir until coated.
Using a buttered spatula or waxed paper, press mixture onto a baking sheet coated with cooking spray. Note: It wont fill the whole pan. I spread mine out to about half the width of the pan. Allow the gooey mess to cool completely.
Using a cookie cutter (Butterfly or otherwise) cut the mixture into shapes. Feed the leftover edges to a dog, your husband, or other boy/man in your life. Butterfly treats are for “Girl’s Only!”
“Little Erin” as CK likes to refer to my pouty, adolescent, pigtailed self had quite a few interesting snacking habits. When I was a kid I liked to make sneaky things that I wasn’t supposed to be eating. Especially if I could utilize the microwave in the process. Some of my more famous concoctions included taking 8 Ritz crackers, folding 2 Kraft Singles into quarters, placing a piece of cheese on each cracker and then topping them with a green olive. I’d finish this “delectable” snack off with 30 seconds in the microwave. I proudly referred to this processed cheese invention as an hors d’œuvre.
Another favorite after school “treat” involved placing spoonfuls of peanut butter and Nestle’s Quik into a coffee cup and also microwaving it. Then I’d stir the two together and pretend I was eating a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. I assure you, peanut butter and powdered drink mix do not taste anything at all like a candy bar. My mother and grandmother would get really annoyed at me when they discovered these chocolate encrusted cups in the sink.
I also liked to sit down in front of the TV with my school books and the one and only Mr. Maury Povich (pre paternity test days) while eating Cheerios dipped in Chocolate milk. Are you beginning to see a pattern here?
Finally, a far less revolting item in my repertoire was the standby Ritz smothered in Marshmallow Fluff. I vividly remember the first time I ever ate these sticky crackers. I was watching the movie Lisa. If you haven’t had the honor, it stars Staci Keenan (Dana from Step by Step) and Cheryl Ladd. Staci portrays the precocious “Lisa” who has a penchant for making prank phone calls and being a great big, although quite creative, boy stalker …until she starts chatting up an honest to goodness serial killer. It’s total camp. You should rent it. So the other day I picked up a $3 single sleeve of Ritz at the sketchy market on my street, popped open a plastic jar of fluff and had a little nostalgic sugar high for a few minutes. It felt…good. In an artificial sweetener kind of way.
Please feel free to share your bizarre childhood junk food memories in the comments. I can’t possibly be the only weirdo who snuck things like the above and really loved having birthday parties filled with Cheddar Cheese Jax, Shark Attack Fruit Snacks, Mountain Dew (ick…I seriously just gagged a little) and Circus Peanuts.
