#92 Freezer Adventures (And Some Serious Stuff...)
My mother, god love her, has always had a seriously misplaced sense of optimism when it comes to the powers of the freezer.
Perhaps it stems from growing up during the golden age of appliance invention. She was a mere four years old when the first free-standing electric freezer unit hit the market and I’m sure the ensuing years of her life were filled with ads extolling the super powers of this new addition to the kitchen.
Be that as it may, in her mind there is seemingly no food that cannot be preserved indefinitely once you chuck it into that magical cold white box.
When I was growing up this included her infamous “Hungarian goulash”.
I have placed it in quotes because my mother’s ethnic roots include exactly no one from anywhere near Hungary and her “goulash” was most likely a recipe cut from a women’s magazine in the 1960’s. It featured cheap elbow macaroni, ground beef, canned tomatoes and peppers. (Perhaps it was the addition of the peppers that made it “Hungarian”)
The first tasting of the aforementioned goulash was always mightily delicious. We gobbled it up happily.
Unhappily, she always made enormous quantities which meant the rest went into little plastic tubs (not Tupperware, but some weird cheap knock off bought by folks who didn’t get invited to Tupperware parties) and got tucked away in the freezer.
Where the water from the canned (or sometimes fresh) tomatoes insinuated itself into every weak pore of the cheap pasta, ensuring that the thawed and reheated version served to us at a later date would be a soggy nasty mess.
Which is why, when my sister asked me a while back what my favorite and least favorite meals were growing up, this goulash was on both lists.
Another reason so many things went into our freezer was thrift. My folks were raising four kids on a schoolteacher’s salary in a single income household so, long before the rise of Costco and Sam’s Club, my mother was buying in bulk big time.
The instant a pantry staple went on sale, she grabbed as much of it as she could afford and, you guessed it, parked it in the freezer. We actually had a whole separate giant unit in the garage just for this purpose.
One of those staples was Velveeta cheese.
An interesting thing happens when you freeze a big log of Velveeta for as long as my mother was frequently freezing big logs of Velveeta.
When you pull it out of the freezer it now is full of white specks. As you slice it you get a sort of mottled, freckled orange and white slab of weirdness.
Which is what brought me to the point one day when I was at a lunch somewhere that featured regular nonfrozen Velveeta. I had to ask the lady what it was because I had never seen a chunk of cheese like it before. When she told me it was Velveeta, I actually said, before I could stop myself, “But where are the white dots? Velveeta always has white dots!”
She looked at me as though I had lost my mind.
As well she might.
Copyright© 2024 Anne Morse Hambrock All rights reserved.
The Long Goodbye
(Me and my mom. Note not one but two nifty appliances - freezer and dishwasher. And the fact that apparently I am wearing a lovely sleeveless “all-over” bib. They really knew how to deal with messy eaters back in the day…)
I’ve been thinking about my mother a lot lately and will probably be writing about her here more.
First, because I’m working on a memoir, and second, because my family is in the process of what is often called “the long goodbye”.
While most often used when discussing Alzheimer’s, the term can apply to anyone who is slowly diminishing both physically and mentally.
There are a lot of complicated things going on with my mother, one of which is either Parkinson’s or something closely related, and we are losing her by degrees.
The good news, for us at least, is that whatever brain changes are happening do not yet include an inability to recognize her family. She still knows exactly who we are and I take some comfort in that.
When you find yourself coping with losing a loved one this way there is no “wrong” reaction. It’s absolutely common to be really torn up by it.
But I choose to try to see the good parts. She is well cared for and as comfortable as possible and I am getting to visit her a lot. These visits, and the length of time since diagnosis, have afforded me the opportunity to say what is in my heart and spend quiet time with her. Something that just wasn’t easy to do when we were both rushing around leading super busy lives. (If you think my life is full, I’ve got nothing on her. She was always fitting 26 hours worth of life into every day.)
I have also had a lot of time to accept the eventual loss of her. Her own mother died suddenly after an incredibly ordinary day full of her usual activities. I don’t think my mother ever came to terms with the speed and shock of that loss. What was a blessing for my grandmother was gut wrenching for the rest of us.
There is no easy way to say goodbye to someone you love.
But I am at least getting the opportunity.
MLK Day
Today we honor the legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
Thanks to John Hambrock and The Brilliant Mind Of Edison Lee for this lovely piece.
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My food tastes have gotten more complex over the years but sometimes I think about that crappy probably 1960s Hungarian goulash - that my people made… I was thinking about it this past week actually. I don’t much enjoy cooking but I’m on deck a couple times a week so maybe I can come up with an upgraded version. Your story of the magic freezer sounds pretty familiar :)