When I was a boy, my Mom always made something I called "Wonderful Stew." The name stuck, and our whole family started calling it that. She dumped some sort of precooked ground meat-like byproduct into a bowl, along with a can of vegetable soup and lots and lots of peas. She'd mix it all up, scoop the chunky mixture into a large baking pan and cover it at the top with faux store-brand Bisquick. It would cook and bubble while an amazing associated odor would waft throughout the house and drift out the open windows. Feral cats would howl as if they were mating. Neighborhood dogs would bark uncontrollably. Large buzzards would fly low over our house. Mysterious stains would appear on concrete. Neighbors would actually emerge from their homes, rub their eyes and attempt to determine what was going on. It became a sort of street-wide social event.
She made this at least once a month. I don't think most of the neighbors would have even met without the indirect assistance of my Mom. I'm sure she was the cause of many lifelong friendships.
My Mom had to feed four boys and a husband on a very limited budget. She relied heavily on a pork product called Taylor Ham. It came wrapped in a sort of brown fabric that she'd peel back to expose the, uh, meat. She'd slice it up, put it in a pan, and after a short time sizzling on the stove she'd serve it up to all of us. A lot of times she'd make Taylor Ham sandwiches on generic white bread spread with something that might have been margarine.
They were simply delicious.
Oh, and if there was nothing else in the house, we usually had sliced cheese available. A glass of water fresh from the tap and a slice of cheese. There's not much more one needs to sustain life.
Most of my friends had real honest-to-God milk in their refrigerators. We had a yellow Tupperware jug of a putrid watery mixture made of powdered milk. If you ever accidentally swallow something poisonous and are in need of quickly vomiting, I suggest you get some powdered milk and mix it up in warm water. Don't overdo it! You don't want the cure to be worse than the disease. Just drink a small glass of it. That will get the job done, and perhaps save your life. Although, I firmly believe that drinking this chalky mixture during my formative years reduced my overall lifespan to some extent.
And you could never mix it properly. No matter how carefully you poured the mixture into some water and no matter how efficiently you stirred, you always ended up with these lumpy white capsules floating around. If you pierced one of them, they were full of dry powder. And if you were unfortunate enough to actually swallow one or two of these floating lumps, you quickly understood why the human body has a gag reflex and why it's always good to have a change of clothes handy at all times.
And there's one other thing I learned growing up. Most foods benefit from lots and lots of ketchup.
Especially macaroni and cheese.
Just take my word for it.
Ugh! I grew up poor and remember my mom trying to pass off powdered milk as "milk!" Yuck! Didn't taste anything like milk! And the thought of those lumps still makes me shudder! Poor mom, she was just trying to save money without depriving us of good nutrition. But my sis and I refused to touch the stuff. Probably because we couldn't drown it in ketchup!
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