You must log in or register to comment.
Turns out I don’t actually dislike vegetables, I just dislike how my mother’s and grandmother make them. Did you know they can be served with colour still on them?
Do you mean to tell me vegetables can be cooked some other way besides boiling? And you can put seasoning on them?!? My grandfather would be disgusted by the thought.
I got fucking microwave steamed frozen veggies with no seasoning at all not even butter and if I didn’t eat the freezer burnt slop I wasn’t allowed to leave the table.
Trauma bonding hell yeah. 👊
Church potluck every Sunday when I was a kid. A whole buffet line of jello based not dessert dishes. Usually peas in green jello, shredded carrots in orange jello,or hotdog in jello abominations. If not jello, there were at least 10 mayonnaise based atrocities.
I ate a lot of dinner rolls.
In defense of my old church:
Pizza biscuits.
Get Pillsbury biscuit dough, slap down one, slap down mozzarella, marinara, pepperoni/sausage, slap down another biscuit over top, do this 12 times, cover and bake.
Sorta like a poor man’s calzone… or, arguably, they’re just super sized pizza pockets.
Don’t pair well with grape juice imo, but they were honestly pretty good.
We did eventually get an Italian soda station bar type thing, no clue if we just aped that from the Mormons or came up with it independently.
My grandmother would put food in the oven before turning it on. When the timer would go off, she’d be frustrated that the food was dehydrated and undercooked, so she’d try her best to salvage it by starting the timer again for the same amount of time. Then she’d ask “what smells funny?” before pulling the food out from the oven, and complaining that the recipe was bad.
She never cooked before she got married, but she was married for somewhere around 70 years.
70 years.
In 70 years, she was never able to understand the concept of preheating the oven. When I was a child, she’d come over to my parents’ house. If my mom was preparing dinner, and the oven was preheating, my grandmother would turn off the oven and tell my mother that she shouldn’t leave the oven on. My mom tried so many times to explain preheating the oven, but my grandmother insisted that it was a waste of energy.
Grandma’s cookbook had two categories: comfort food and culinary crimes.
Don’t forget the middle ground where they cross. War time ration crime against God that your parents swear is comfort food but is actually why they are missing brain cells.
Boiled “skinned” hotdog in cabbage soup… Was my grandmother’s. Funfact its broth was made of bullion cubes and hot dog skins… Its very beefy…
If your lucky you get navy beans added.
My grandma wouldn’t give me her recipe for my favorite dessert and she died:( My aunts try to reassure me by saying she probably didn’t have a recipe she probably felt it out.
deleted by creator
When I asked for the recipe (fudge) my grandma legit sent me a cutout from the back of a marshmallow fluff jar. I am 100% certain that’s not the recipe she used.
You might have been provided a “less-ipe”. In communities where recipes are closely guarded, social pressures may force one to share what would be a personal secret. So they give an adulterated version ensuring only they, the original recipe holder can produce the beloved result.
One of my grandmothers had secret recipes, but when realized her time was coming to an end she taught each of her daughters different ones. So one was taught these sauces, another those desserts, and the other some special entrees. Of course the daughters got together and trained one another, but that was the point.
God people are stupid. Oh no. Can’t give or my special recipe! No one will remember me!
No, there’s a very real chance that’s actually it. People get their recipes from somewhere. She wasn’t some confectioner, inventing recipes from scratch.
You don’t know her
The Jello thing must be American.
In the UK we made everything with potatoes and Spam.
Gelatin was used plenty in UK. Iv watched plenty of British cooking shows that focused on the 40s-80s to know that for a fact. But it just got REAL fucking big here cause of name brand jello.
So it’s just truely absurd here state side.
Mid-century recipes were buck wild. People who’d grown up with six ingredients suddenly had access to exotic raw materials like cheese from Switzerland, and they were doing mad science in a casserole dish. It was fusion cuisine from people who would not recognize sushi as intended for human consumption.
This is my grandmother’s recipe for ribs, which means it’s 1950s American suburban cuisine. It’s not high culture… but it’s not bad, and you’d never try it otherwise.
Par-bake 5 lbs of pork ribs, in a deep pan, in the oven, at 325 degrees Farenheit.
While that’s happening, mix a sauce from the following:
8 oz dark corn syrup or molasses
40 oz ketchup (seriously)
1 small onion, diced
3 cloves garlic
~16 oz canned mandarin oranges (or pineapple)
12 whole cloves
1 cups vinegar (white wine vinegar or apple cider vinegar)
3 tbsp “salad oil” (i.e. some lightly-flavored vegetable oil)
4 oz French’s yellow mustard (again, seriously)
1 tsp salt
1 tsp pepper
3 oz Heinz 57 (a steak sauce, similar to A1)
2 tsp Worcestershire
1 tsp Tabasco
3 tbsp butterApparently I don’t have the intended cooking times on this computer, so you’d have to bodge other recipes for ribs in sauce. Use a mat thermometer and don’t worry about it. Basically just get them half-done, then pour on this “Polynesian” sauce, and check temperature / baste every so often. The result is a very sweet, tangy meat, with abundant extra sauce intended to go over fresh short-grain rice. Because I expect my grandmother died without ever hearing the word “basmati.” My family stole the basis for this from Good Housekeeping, and they’ve only sent goons after us, like, twice. Incidentally you get about twenty pounds of ribs per goon.
