If you grew up in the Fifties, you probably ate Spam

 

The 1950s were an interesting time for America—and for American women. The men were home from the war, and Rosie the Riveter and her sisters who had filled in for the absent men were now expected to go home, have babies, and care for their families. Ladies’ magazines were full of images of happy housewives wearing cheery little aprons and serving delicious meals—including lots of jellied salads, even jellied meats. Families moved to the suburbs, the economy boomed, there were pesky wars in places like Korea but the big one was over, and optimism was in the air. Or was it? And was that housewife really happy?

I grew up in one of those stereotypically happy homes. Not the suburbs, but inner-city Chicago. We were a family of four—my brother being some seven-plus years older than me. Dad went to work every morning as president of the Chicago College of Osteopathy, and Mom stayed home, saw us children off to school, grocery shopped, kept the house, fixed dinner. And always, before she fixed dinner, she showered and changed into a fresh dress or a peasant blouse and long skirt, to look nice for Dad when he came home. She handed him his Scotch and water, visited for a minute, and then produced a dinner of meat and potatoes to suit his Anglophile tastes.

But I know in her heart Mom yearned to be part of the wider world beyond our home. She did not act on that, because it would have embarrassed Dad if people thought that he couldn’t support his family. Still, she had a degree from the University of Chicago and had been secretary to the university’s chancellor, Robert Maynard Hutchins, founder of the Great Books Program. She exercised her abilities through volunteer work at the hospital associated with the osteopathic college. Among her responsibilities, she managed the hospital gift shop. Except that she was almost always a happy person, she might have been the perfect model for Betty Freidan’s unhappy housewife.

Mom also managed to steer a course between good, old-fashioned cooking and the wave of convenience and prepared foods that swept America in the 1950s. Social change in a society is often mirrored by change in its culinary world, and so it was with post-war America. The food industry that had been supplying military needs suddenly needed a new audience—they turned to the housewife. The Fifties saw the rapid rise of convenience food—canned goods, cake mixes, TV dinners, frozen foods, instant foods, even junk food, anything that could cut down on the housewife’s time in the kitchen and give her more control over her own life. Frozen foods were a particularly significant advance for the food industry, even though few American homes had freezers. The futuristic dream was a kitchen stocked with frozen and prepared goods that the housewife could bring to table in something under fifteen minutes.

The food industry, whose goal was more to make a profit than it was to feed America, was quick to spot trends—and exploit them. Companies’ advertising departments were almost as large as their production centers and accounted for all those pictures of happy housewives in cheery aprons. One popular trend promoted in magazines involved gelatin. Jell-O molded salads containing everything from hot dogs to olives to fruit suddenly appeared on dining tables. We had our share of Jell-O salads. One in particular, if I remember correctly, used dark cherry Jell-O, drained dark cherries, and maybe a touch of port wine. I don’t remember that Mom made many other such salads and certainly never the jellied pickle horrors that we now see pictures of.

The company that produced Hellman’s mayonnaise saw the trend and introduced, “Party Potato Salad”—potato salad in a jellied chicken broth base and molded into a loaf shape by a bread pan. Made a great centerpiece. [Kate Prince, “Trends that Have Impacted the Food Industry throughout the Years, investor.com, Feb. 2022] Other even less appetizing examples were a tuna/olive/onion/vinegar dish in a lime Jell-O ring mold or the ubiquitous orange Jell-O with grated carrots. We had that one a lot about my childhood home. Years later I hosted a retro potluck dinner party, and one guest brought that salad—I was rather glad to taste it again. The makers of Jell-O advertised that anything could go in their new lime product by showing a drawing of a dead fish, a shrimp, a chicken leg, a cucumber, a bell pepper, cabbage, one lonely walnut, an olive (also ubiquitous in those salads), celery, and a tomato slice. Presumably the cook was to choose among the items, but there were some weird combinations.

Spam and hot dogs, leftovers from military meals, were frequently twisted into something approximating elegance: a crown roast of hot dogs, stuffed with mashed potatoes. Creamed chipped beef, once the despair of enlisted men and women, became a staple on dinner tables. I fix it and enjoy it today, but there are still many people who scorn “shit on a shingle.” And, of course, there was Spam. Mom would slice and fry, or, trying to make it a dinner dish, score it like a ham, stud with cloves, top with brown sugar, and bake. While I’m not fond of it today, I don’t have bad memories of it.

This decade also saw the introduction of canned soup-based casseroles and TV dinners. The TV dinners usually consisted of a meat, two vegetables, and a fruit or dessert, all in its little tin tray which the busy housewife could simply discard. There was no waste management in the fifties. Typical dinners might offer turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, green peas, and a slice of pie. Or meatloaf, potatoes au gratin, green beans, and a brownie. To take advantage of TV dinners, households had to own two of the new innovations: a TV set and a freezer. We had a giant, chest-type freezer in our basement but never that I can recall had a TV dinner.

Canned soup casseroles also appeared in the Fifties. These relied primarily on Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup. The classic, developed by Campbell’s, was a tuna casserole with topped with French fried onions or crushed potato chips. Other casseroles might feature ham and Swiss cheese, sausage, any of countless ways of including chicken, a Mexican beef casserole. Church and Junior League cookbooks offered endless ideas for using soup. Some purist cooks, decrying canned soups, devised ways to make faux canned soup, avoiding they said the preservatives and fat of the original. The trouble with these imitations was that they went counter to the idea of convenience and were much more trouble to make than opening a can. Mom was happy to use canned soup in casseroles, and it was one of the many things she taught me. Despite many rather harsh critics, not all food of the Fifties was disgusting. Jell-O molds have pretty much phased out, but canned-soup casseroles are still served in many households across the country, including mine. Grocery stores still sell TV dinners and frozen pizza, so there is a market somewhere.

 

I am embarking on a new project, a cookbook probably titled Mom and Me in the Kitchen. I plan to explore the food of the Fifties, as I learned it from my mom, and look at how it impacted how many of us who cook today. I’d love to hear suggestions,  comments, questions. Email me  at judyltr@gmail.com. I will post excerpts from time to time on the blog.