Don’t those ribs look fabulous? We never ate anything like this for dinner. NEVER. My single Mom was not an attorney, doctor or actress much to our detriment. This meant meals were fixed according to her earnings, which weren’t bad. After all, we went to private school and camps every summer. I guess we were able to do all those things because of the dinners she made for us nightly. I shiver at the idea of eating anything like those dinners now. I’ll start with the ones I wouldn’t eat at all.
Remember frozen fish sticks? My brother LOVED them. We were not allowed to leave the table until we cleared our plate. I figured out a sneaky way to get rid of my food without Mom knowing. I would take a large napkin and pretend to eat but hide the nastiness in the napkin and toss it. Then I’d grab another napkin. What a cleaver girl I was…until Mom figured this out. It took her a few years actually so I got away with not eating for a while.
I also did not eat meat unless it was in our soupy spaghetti or pepperoni, which I did not include in the “meat list” and is probably one of the most horrible things to eat. It’s a lot like being a vegetarian but enjoying head cheese. I was kind of like that…picky. If I had read the ingredients of pepperoni, I’m sure I would have been ill. However, I just thought God made pepperoni ‘as is’. Not as a combination of hearts, snouts, and ears of several animals. Oh, hot dogs were not on the “meat list” either. Another meat winner!
The worst dinner was also my brother’s favorite. He LOVE IT. The smell made me quite ill and I still have nightmares about eating it. It contained three ingredients. Remember, Mom worked, so she didn’t have time to make spectacular meals. They were all simple and most, pretty awful. This particular dish used canned, sliced pineapple rings, THAT simply awful congealed “meat” product in a can that Mom also sliced into, ugh, wedges. Those two items were alternated in a bread pan and brown sugar was sprinkled on top. Then it was shoved into the oven to be cooked. Since I was raised in the San Fernando Valley, I’m going to use that phrase, GAG ME. It really works here.
Now I’m not sure what that “meat” was, though it was called something like SPRAM. I think it was, gasp, ham and something that started with a “S.” Snake maybe. I could never figure it out so I stuffed it into the gap between the seat and the back of the chair. It was the 70’s and everyone had groovy padded seats for kitchen tables in California. ALL meat, except pepperoni, could fit between the junction of back and seat. Years later Mom found all that meat and I had to clean it out, with my bare hands, the feeling was vile. But not worse then eating SPRAM.
Thirty years passed and my nephew decided to tell me that SPRAM is made out of cow penises. He might be correct. I don’t think anyone knows what it really is…all hope has left. Now that my brother and I are adults, Mom never uses it anymore. Figures. I think she should make it for my brother though since he LOVED it more then anything. He can have it with some fish sticks.