Category: Food

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pleated jeans

I saw this pic today of a patron in a Texas HEB and knew that I could not keep it to myself. At first, I thought someone was hoarding foil or plastic wrap. Then I realized it was Hungry-Man frozen dinners. Dozens of them, supplemented by what appear to be frozen pizzas and some Stouffers tossed in. But the core demand here was blue cartons. All of them. The entire stock. It reminds me of the Parks and Rec scene wherein Ron Swanson demands ALL of the bacon and eggs.

Is this a Christmas gift for a home-bound relative? Is the gift of cardiac failure and diabetes the gift that keeps on giving? I myself have never eaten Hungry-Man. So my palate never knew a salisbury steak nor a meatloaf. But who could not be tempted by this chicken caressing a waffle? Are you a man or a mouse? EAT LIKE A MAN.

Pinnacle Foods

Does that tactic really work in this day and age, where gender is as fluid as the maple syrup on that waffle? Many men today have never changed their own oil, chopped firewood, or kilt them a bar when they was only three. More men today have eaten couscous and know how to properly say acai. But not at Hungry Man. They doubled down with their new double meat bowls because America. Chute, yeah. Try their Mexican Fiesta Enchiladas, complete with coconut-flavored pudding. If that’s not diverse, I don’t know what is.

I can’t see Millennials buying these. Why buy a $4 meal when you can buy a $7 green smoothie? So it must be older folk. Will sales plummet as years go by? All I know is there’s a giant vacancy in the frozen foods department, and a man somewhere who won’t be hungry for long.

Post-War Pig Insecurities

What could be sadder than Prolon-induced pig anxiety? Perhaps hooves clutching a wishbone of a fellow creature? Who cares? Hitler is dead!

All of today’s ads come to us from the summer of 1946, when the country was just beginning to get back on her feet. The war was in the past, and so was hog bristle. In this new age, science was the winner, and pigs vs prophylactic Prolon made good copy.

But not as good as a head of youthful, vibrant, slick hair that caught a young lady’s eye. Watch as his locks emanate vitality.

Good night, nurse! He could inspect my rigging any day.

And speaking of crushes, why not try Orange Crush, filled with the juice of tree-ripened Valencia oranges? Yes, that’s right. Actual juice in the bottle, as well as pulp!

Not a fan of orange? Then pause to refresh with Hires. Cheers to silly puns! Now let me dig, woman.

Not a soda person? Maybe a Bloody Mary is in your future. Make it sing with A-1, the dash that makes the dish!

After all that imbibing, it’s time to wind down, head to the parlor, and listen to some Big Band on the Crosley radio. Perhaps make room for a cooling after-dinner mint. Everyone’s heard of Richardson’s mints. U-All-No!

You’re My Wonder (Wet) Wall

https://pleated-jeans.com/2021/09/15/produce-managers-favorite-displays/

I saw this today and had to share. Did y’all even know these were called wet walls? I sure didn’t. But I’ve never worked in grocery, or retail at all. My years were spent serving folks cooked veggies on plates in restaurants, not organizing them so satisfyingly brilliantly.

Who knew radishes and chives harmonized so well?

This is better art than I’ve seen in overpriced coastal galleries. I’ll take this over a watercolor lighthouse any day.

BTW, it’s also called “wet rack,” but I wouldn’t Google that.

I know the starting pay at our local grocery store is $15/hr, way more than I make with my degree. But whoever did this needs to get a bonus. That’s thinking outside the box.

Except at first glance, it kind of looks tuna shoved in there …

Rib-Tickling, Spine-Splitting Pie

shorpy

I do love pie (even chose it instead of wedding cake), but I must admit I’ve never consumed it whilst donning a bathing suit, as these lasses did on July 31, 1921 in the nation’s capital. Tidal Basin Bathing Beach had opened only three years prior, and then closed four years after this shot.  Seize the moments while you can.

I’m The Gravy To Your Mashed

1947 Cactus

With less than three months till Thanksgiving, you might need to start thinking about your gravy needs.

For a ditty to encourage your culinary skills (fraught with innuendo), may I suggest?

Underwood Or Underworld?

LIFE 1949

While a tiger might seem a reach to sell Frosted Flakes, Satan selling pork products make even less sense, especially in 1949, when prayer still existed in public schools. I get it; it’s “deviled” ham, ground and spiced. But I don’t like my ham ground. I like it in thin peppery deli slices, like the ones I purchased this morning.

Deviled eggs, yes. Deviled ham, no.

Canned kipper, tuna, oysters–these I’m fine with. I can see their bony spines. I know it was one sardine I’m eating, not a grind of the worst parts of the pig, processed from 1000 swine into one little can.

Cracked.com reviewed several potted meats, referring to the “coating of newborn-esque vernix” that covered the moist meat (shudders). I hope the reviewer was compensated generously.

I know some of you eat Spam (ground pork shoulder–mostly) but I fear it’s full of hooves and tails. Maybe that’s why Satan makes sense for deviled ham; he has cloven feet. Jesus certainly couldn’t be the pitch man; he never even tasted pork because he was Jewish. And you can’t fashion a newborn manger Jesus out of deviled ham. These could use a little more paprika.

keyingredient.com