Of COURSE, I’d Like Another Slice Of Real Yeast-Riz Pizza

I used to think I was born in the wrong era. Growing up, wearing plaid corduroy pants with striped brown shirts was not very feminine.  However, everything about the 40s and 50s delighted me: the hair, the poodle skirts, the staying at home and not working and having a husband support me, the aqua-colored appliances, the white picket fences.  And everyone looked so CLEAN, so hat and gloves, so put together.

I have STACKS of old magazines with endlessly fascinating ads, to which you will constantly be subjected.  I don’t mind sexist ads.  I don’t mind silly feminine hygiene ads.  I don’t even mind “husky” toddler clothes ads for kids that look positively svelte by today’s standards.  But the one thing that just baffles me is the food.  The food looks AWFUL.  Gelatinous and cottage-cheesey with potted meats.  Ewww.

Take a gander at these ads, all from just ONE October 1958 Good Housekeeping:

Now I like hush puppies, as well as pancakes and ham, but this looks more like sweet ‘n’ sour chicken than actual breakfast.  Waitress, I’d like the General Tso’s fried gluten with extra cholesterol and sugarbeetees, plus a side of hardened arteries.  Pronto!

Now for lunch, we’ll add some healthy options.  Tomato sauce is a vegetable, right?

I haven’t visited Sicily, but I’m fairly certain this is what a gen-u-ine Italian pizza looks like, with green olives at the tips of the star.  Didn’t Cher bake this for Nicolas Cage in Moonstruck?  They were totally Italian.  P.S. Did Mrs. America really want to be associated with yeast?  Maybe Miss America was busy endorsing Monistat?

Now save room, because we’ve invited the Johnsons over for a Souper Supper Loaf dinner, and Mom’s made a fanTABulous “handy ham appe-teaser.”  No, not REAL ham, silly!  You had that for breakfast.  This is deviled ham.  Pretend ham.  Satan’s ham.

Don’t mind the fact that it resembles a voodoo doll for Mom to stab out her aggression, while indulging her perfectionist tendencies.  Every little plasticky processed American cheese square must sit JUST right!  Is the apple oxidizing at the toothpick hole?

Now time for the main event!  You better get your coveting on, Mrs. Johnson, because there’s no way you’ll EVER top Mom’s meatloaf.

I don’t know which looks better: the one oozing blood, the one covered in toddler wretch, or the one doused with thousand island dressing.  Oh, alright, already!  Please pass the celery-salmon loaf.  I can’t resist a river of celery running down that lovely loaf o’ fish. It’s like bundt cake, except it’s meat.  And it’s gross.  And it makes my throat fill with bile.

Stay tuned for more super keen ads from 1958!  I’ll try not to nauseate you.