Lucky Charms and Cocktail Parties
Thank you, Gwamma! [IMG]http://i64.photobucket.com/albums/h187/ladytrue_99/huggie.gif[/IMG]
Lucky Charms –I’ve tasted them. My mother bought them for me and my little brother. Teenage-me took a spoonful and asked, “Mom, would you mind if I skipped breakfast this morning? I’m not in the mood for candy.” Since I acquired sarcasm at my parents’ knees, she just laughed.
I’m not sure these are still popular in the ‘burbs. They were in the 1970s. For my last four years living with my parents, we lived on a cul de sac in upstate NY. Not just any cul de sac; you had to have at least an acre and a quarter to build. Lah dee freakin’ dah.
Anyway, all the people on this cul de sac took turns throwing cocktail parties. Parties of any kind actually. (Seeing one’s father dressed as Baby New Year (think big diaper and top hat) can give a girl nightmares.) And with parties come alcohol, naturally, and hors d’oeuvres. The “Tragic and SAD recipes” thread, and me being spitting distance to my 5Xth birthday somehow have led me to think back to those days.
First the drinking. How the hell they all drank that much and didn’t die of liver failure is beyond me. Though really, I’m not one to talk. But they were young-ish and I rationalize my drinking by telling myself that drinking really wasn’t a hobby of mine until I was in my fifties. When the parties were at our house, my father served lovely pitchers of icy Manhattans. In an effort to make me feel included, Daddy would give me a glass of sweet vermouth with a cherry in it (it looked like a Manhattan). I think people call Social Services if parents let 14 year olds drink now. But hey, those wild and wonderful 60s and 70s!
By age 16, I was more into hallucinogenics and pretty much turned my nose up at alcohol as something old people did. So my n=1 with alcohol is that if you give your teenage daughter an occasional glass of fortified wine, she won’t necessarily become a raving alcoholic and end up living in a refrigerator box in an alley.
The hors d’oeuvres on the other hand, scarred me for life, and definitely shaped the kind of food I like to eat.
Devilled Eggs – yummy, and easily primalized.
The worst – take a loaf of unsliced white bread, trim off the crust, then make a savory layer cake type thing of it with canned chopped ham, egg salad, and cream cheese. Garnish with sliced olives. For those of you with more than half your lives in front of you, I swear I didn’t make that up.
Dips – in the 70s, if you had a container of sour cream and a block of Philadelphia cream cheese, you had the beginnings of a party. My dear mother could put just about anything in sour cream and cream cheese and call it a dip. Canned clams, frozen spinach, dried onion soup mix – pretty much if it came in small pieces, Mom could add it to sour cream and cream cheese and call it a dip. And, since tortilla chips hadn’t made it into every white person’s home yet, you served them with Fritos.* I loved those dips.
*Does anyone here remember the Frito Bandito? Speedy Gonzales? Sambo’s Restaurant? Those images are at least one reason that many of my generation turned our middle class backs on “the establishment” and commercialism. It doesn’t however, explain why we stopped shaving our legs. That was a whole other “ism.”
And finally [I]Anything on a Cracker[/I], also known as an hors d’oeuvre. Break out the Ritz crackers, Philadelphia cream cheese, some kind of yellow cheese, smoked oysters/clams/mussels, anchovies, and sliced pimento olives, and let your imagination run wild. My favorite: a big fat oily smoked oyster atop a cream cheesed Ritz cracker. And when my mom made [I]Anything on a Cracker[/I], I knew I’d be staying up late for the food.
Now of course, I could merely smear goat cheese on an oyster, and it’s delicious, but the non-primal teenager who lingers in my soul misses the damn Ritz crackers. Also, have you ever tried to put goat cheese on an oyster? It can get messy. Better: get a forkful of goat cheese and stab an oyster with it.
When sushi became popular, I didn’t need any convincing – it was just a raw fish hors d’oeuvre. I still make the dips and hors d’oeuvres, minus the chips and crackers. And to this day, if I go to a nice restaurant, I’d rather order almost everything on the appetizer menu than just about anything else.
So, what’s the point? I didn’t do an intro post to this journal. And sometimes I think relating to others the things that happened in our lives, tell more about us than age, gender, etc. So, that’s where I came from. The goofy 70s party cul de sac. A sweet but slightly ditzy (think Gracie Allen) mom. And a sharp/funny, but crazy as a shit-house rat dad. Sicilian descent on both sides for as far back as the eye can see.