Chicken/turkey tetrazzini. Chicken and noodles over mashed potatoes. My mom also made a broccoli and cheese casserole with rice at least twice a month. Not my favorite, but that's definitely a food from my childhood. And I can proudly make my mom's mashed potatoes.
Chicken Littles are back at KFC.
My mom's Maryland fried chicken and/or Chinese pot roast. Both were amazing w/mashed potatoes and gravy.
Ranch Flavored Fritos... washed down with Ecto Cooler
I grew up on a farm, and as a farm kid, that meant my summers and Saturdays were spent helping my Dad with "farm stuff" which essentially meant I was a go-fer. Rain or shine, my brother and I would be there. And if there wasn't anything to do, my dad would find things for us to do. The idea was that if you weren't working, you were being lazy, (the Devil's hands and such).
Anyway, mealtime was always a mixed bag on those days. Most times, my mom would bring us lunch. But, on the days when she worked, my dad was forced to come up with something on his own. Sometimes, he'd take us to the cafe in town, which was always a treat. But other times, he'd try to make something and that was always an adventure. Ingredients and flavor combinations that God never intended to go together were combined with reckless abandon on those days. And no matter what he came up with, you had to eat it. Any complaints were taken as a personal insult. There was no choice but to eat it and like it.
I can recall one occasion in particular, where he went to the fridge, and must have found little there, because he came back to the table with nothing but a loaf of bread and a jar of mayonnaise. I saw the ingredients, immediately sensed what was about to happen, and quickly foraged for myself. I found some stale cereal and a carrot, and declared it "dinner" making sure my father knew that he didn't have to include me in his lunch making plans. My younger brother was not so lucky. He was presented with a single piece of white bread, slathered with mayo, and encouraged to "Eat up." There was no side dish. No garnish. Not even a plate. The "sandwich" was simply placed in his open palm. And with that, my father left us, heading into the living room to watch the noon news.
Mat (my brother) looked up from his hand, now fully realizing what I had sensed just minutes before. He was going to have to eat that nasty thing. He looked to me, munching on my dry cheerios, with an expression of complete helplessness, searching for some way out. And then I did the only thing an older brother can do in that circumstance. I smacked the back of his hand, knocking the "sandwich" onto the floor.
Of course it landed face down.
Mat hurried to pick it up, but the damage had already been done. From a distance, it didn't look too bad, but up close was a different story. It bore the telltale marks of any food that's hit a carpeted floor. Hairs, fuzz, unidentifiable specks, they were all there. My dad heard us scrambling around, and poked his head out to see what was going on. "Are you guys eating?" he called out. And that's pretty much all Mat could do about it. He knew what he had to do. There was no way out. I watched him eat a dirty mayonnaise sandwich bite by bite, as my dad looked on. I felt a little remorse, but honestly not that much.
To this day, I'll bring up the mayonnaise sandwich incident, and it always elicits a response from my brother. Sometimes it's a laugh. Sometimes it's disgust. Sometimes it's a punch in the shoulder.
You can always drink some while it's baking, right?
Oh, and LJS used to serve beer in the 80's/90's. They've ruined that company!
crushed carrots and peas
You poor deprived souls who say lunchables were the best thing you ate as a child. It says a lot about who you are today.
Cannoli, corned beef and cabbage, Irish soda bread. Pizza from some little pizza place in Chicago that is no longer there. Mario's italian lemonade. Al' Beef.