I don’t know how this came up recently, but here are two archetypal meals from my younger days in Flyoverville.
The first was at my BFFs house. For dinner, she and I were served grilled chicken breasts, rice, iceberg lettuce with Ranch dressing, cottage cheese and tinned pears for dessert. To drink, we of course had huge glasses of milk. Picture these things in your mind. What do you see? An entire plate of WHITE. Incredible.
The second was from the dinner where I met my high school boyfriend’s parents for the first (official) time. His mom boiled spaghetti and poured a jar of canned sauce on top of it while his dad grilled steaks. When I was asked how I liked my meat done and responded “medium-rare, on the rare side” everyone froze. No one in their house had ever eaten anything less than done. My boyfriend later said that his dad had been flummoxed since he’d never actually had to cook meat “so little.”
It’s a miracle I survived among these people. It really is.