I’m shocked. Not so much by the news of the entire population of the North American continent going down with food poisoning from eating bagged spinach, but by the lack of respect shown to growing childen.
” Marina Zecevic said she made the mistake of serving creamed spinach to her kids the day the story (of the contamination) broke.”
No, Marina, your mistake was the heinous creaming of the spinach in the first place. In my day, no self respecting child would stand for such a blatant disregard of Human Rights.
Food plays such a large part in our character, it shapes our very souls. My generation gained tolerance through the wheatgerm which marred our porridge, fortitude from the boiled cabbage, and the daily teaspoon of cod liver oil constantly strengthened our righteous anger.
We survived the hideous institution of Free Milk in Schools and dutifully swallowed, every day at lunch, a warm bottle of clotted, curdled milk which had been sitting in the sun since sparrow-fart.
We were a tough bunch.
And no one would have dared to serve us creamed spinach.
Can you spare a dime for an old dame?
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September 17th, 2006 at 11:17 am
My mother creams just about every vegetable. It’s obnoxious.
Once I convinced her to not buy creamed corn in the can but niblets, blissfully uncreamed. That can sat in the pantry until she’d discovered that she had ran out of creamed corn so she decided to serve them…
She creamed them herself…GAH!
Cooked spinach is bad enough without creaming it.
September 17th, 2006 at 12:27 pm
Stone the crows! Did eating creamed corn in a can do that to you?
September 17th, 2006 at 1:32 pm
My stomach curdled when you mentioned the clotted milk we had to drink. I have not thought of that for years.
We were divided into fat kids, skinny kids and just right kids in elementary school. I was petite, never skinny, but I was deemed a skinny kid and we had to have that disgusting warm crap two times a day (The fat kids got none, lucky fat kids) I hate milk to this day. I’m still petite, but being called skinny hurt then and it still does. Maybe political correctness isn’t as bad as I think it is when it comes to small children.:>)
September 17th, 2006 at 1:40 pm
Ah, the memories of the rancid milk curds! How can we forget? (no matter how hard we try).
It was called character-building.
September 18th, 2006 at 10:31 am
Oh, the chest! Ha! No…
I sell costumes for a living. You’ve been presented with a big pair of fake pillow boobies.
I guess you could blame it on antibiotics and hormones in the American agricultural system…
September 18th, 2006 at 10:38 am
” I guess you could blame it on antibiotics and hormones in the American agricultural system..”
You were the lucky ones. We had strontium 90 in ours
September 18th, 2006 at 10:40 am
That sounds tasty!