M. Suzanne Terry

I ate a lot of sandwiches in my childhood. As a food group, the sandwich has a lot going for it:

• It’s fast and simple to make.
• It doesn’t dirty up a lot of dishes/pots/pans in the process.
• It is versatile, so it’s easier to tailor to picky food tastes than most things.
• It can be as nutritious or decadent or anything in between as you want it to be.

We lunched on a lot of peanut butter (creamy) and jelly (grape). When it was cool outside, we got soup and grilled cheese with white bread and American slices (cut on the diagonal, the way nature intended). We also ate a lot of bologna and cheese, and my favorite way to do that was toasted in the toaster oven. It was fun to watch the slice of bologna curl as it heated.

There always seemed to be a jar of either chicken or tuna salad (or on occasion, their weird cousin, ham salad) made in the fridge. Mom’s chicken/tuna/ham salad usually included the same basic elements:

• Hard-boiled eggs
• Shredded (chopped? diced?) chicken/tuna/ham
• Miracle Whip
• Salt/pepper

Occasionally she’d put pickles in it, or celery and grapes if she was making it for her sorority or an adult luncheon of some sort. But for us, it stayed simple.

My favorite sandwiches, though, were special treats. They required a specific bread. I’m pretty sure it was a Mrs. Baird’s product, but they looked like the Wonder Bread Philly Cheesesteak rolls. White bread roll with sesame seeds. You take the bottom of the roll and layer thinly sliced deli ham. On top of that, you sprinkle shredded mozzarella. Put it in the microwave long enough to melt the cheese. Spread the top of the bun with ranch dressing (specifically Hidden Valley Ranch – accept no substitutes) and place on the melted cheese.

When I make a sandwich today, it’s typically on bread from Ravelin or The Market at UNT. The meat and/or veggie specifics vary, but there’s always some kind of cheese involved. It’s often open-faced (because it’s usually lunch and an abundance of bread makes me sleepy) or half a sandwich that I eat in conjunction with something else, like a cup of soup or a salad.

But my ultimate comfort sandwich is still that hot ham and mozzarella hoagie. Heaven.

What’s your favorite type of sandwich?

I’m writing about homey foods and comforting snacks this month.

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[The makers of this cereal saw me coming. And it did not disappoint.]

Growing up, we mostly ate sensible, real food and balanced meals. We regularly ate dinner together as a family, especially when we were young. There was a main dish (typically meat or some type of casserole), a few sides, some type of bread, and usually something for dessert.

For breakfast most days, though, we were on our own while everyone was getting themselves ready, and we needed something simple we could make ourselves. So we almost always had a few boxes of cereal in the house. There are several that hold a bit of nostalgia for me:

• Cheerios
• Froot Loops
• Corn Pops (known as their original name from Mom’s childhood, Sugar Pops, at our house)
• Rice Krispies (and occasionally, Cocoa Krispies)
• Chex (rice, corn, or wheat, depending on what was on sale)
• Grape Nuts (neither grapes nor nuts but a fantastic topping for ice cream)

We also frequently had snack cakes at our house. They were easy sweet treats that no one had to take the time to make. Mom often included them in our lunch boxes. Is it necessary to provide a dessert in a child’s lunch box? No. But when you are raised (as she was) to consider dessert an essential part of a whole meal, well, old habits die hard. We had Zebra Cakes (although they were just called Snak Cakes when we were little) and the Oatmeal Creme Pies and Honey Buns and Swiss Cake Rolls (my personal favorite). Little Debbie’s competitor, Hostess, also made some of our favorites – Twinkies and Ding Dongs (and to a lesser extent, the regular cupcakes).

Today, I try not to purchase snack cakes very often. I will eat too many at once and get that wild feeling behind my eyes that happens when I eat too much sugar. Ditto for sugary cereals (although I usually have some Cheerios or Chex or Kix around for nights when I don’t want to make anything).

But when I saw the Swiss Cake Roll Cereal in the grocery store last week, I just couldn’t resist. Good going, marketing team. Let me introduce you to your target consumer (me). I tried to lower my standards before trying them. I mean, there was a good chance they were not going to be great. Sometimes these things don’t go well at all.

They tasted like Cocoa Krispies. And yes, I drank the faux chocolate milk the cereal made right out of the bowl at the end, just like I did when I was little (including spilling it on my shirt).

Thanks for the memories, Little Debbie and Kellogg’s. 10/10, will purchase again.

I’m waxing nostalgic about food, family, and home this month.

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I would be remiss if I talked about our family holidays without mentioning the staple that still shows up every time we gather to celebrate. We may not have a pie or even a turkey, but we will have canned cranberry sauce.

I really, really love canned cranberry sauce. 

And not just because it taps into whatever nostalgia I feel about the holidays, although that’s certainly true, too. I genuinely love it. 

This “Ode to Canned Cranberry Sauce” by Malcolm Venable sums up my feelings perfectly. I will always – without fail – choose it over “real” or homemade cranberry sauce. If I’m coming over, don’t try to impress me with your fancy berries. Save yourself the trouble (or focus it on the potatoes or other sides), and just stick to the canned stuff. It is infinitely superior in my mind.

I know we’ve been talking about holidays in the last few posts, but I don’t even wait until the holidays to have it. I almost always have a can in my pantry – just in case the mood strikes – all year long. I did not even have to go to the store to stage the picture for this post (and yes, I did eat this whole display by myself. No regrets.).

When we are making the family holiday grocery list, I always advise doubling the cranberry sauce we think we’re going to need. Because otherwise, will anyone else get any? I am afraid I can’t promise that.

I eat it by itself.

I eat it with almost every bite of turkey or ham (or whatever main dish we have that year).

I eat it with dressing (or stuffing, if you prefer to call it that).

[Also, be prepared for me not to eat the stuffing if you actually stuffed it inside the animal you cooked. It’s not you, it’s me. And my picky judgment of your bad choices. So…I guess it’s a little bit you.]

I have also been known to spoon a dollop of whipped cream on top of some canned cranberry sauce and call it dessert. 

LOVE. IT.

I have had actual arguments over the merits of cranberry sauce with extended family members. I don’t know why I bothered. After all, if others present don’t like it – hey, more for me.

Couple the fact that the cranberry is my favorite berry with the consistent texture and perfect tang of the canned, gelled sauce – our love story was destiny. And over the years, I’ve discovered I’m a purist. I’ve tried putting it in things, like mini-trifles with goat cheese and pecans, and I even tried to use it in a cocktail once (one word – don’t). But the way I like it best is just by itself.

It’s marvelous.

I’m writing about all the food that reminds me of home this month.

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You know how, when you show appreciation for something or show someone how much you love it, you suddenly start getting a startling amount of those things as gifts? Now, this works out well when you hint to people who know how to pick out good coffee – like my sister – that it would be a stellar gift to receive. And it is pure delight, when you actually collect things like souvenir coffee mugs, to receive them when people return from their travels. But it also sometimes means you go from having one cute crystal pig wine stopper that you make the mistake of gushing over to receiving pig-themed items for years to come.

This is what happened when you told MeMaw Sharp your favorite dessert.

Almost every kid goes through an adventurous (relatively speaking) phase where they’re excited about trying new things. Every new thing they like is suddenly “the best” or “their favorite.”

I didn’t think I liked cherries when I was little. Aunt Gale’s cherry pie was very intense for a kid whose expectation when you said, “pie” was either chocolate or coconut cream. So when I tried MeMaw’s cherry cheesecake, I did not have high hopes. But it was delicious. I was over the moon. I immediately declared it the best thing I had ever eaten, in much the same way my sister praised the German chocolate cake (even though it had nuts in it, which we were generally opposed to as young girls).

Ah, the hyperbole of youth.

From that moment on, every time we had dinner at MeMaw’s house, the desserts were a choice between cherry cheesecake and German chocolate cake. You’re welcome, family. How any of us even like either of those things anymore is a mystery.

In fact, until recently, I hadn’t had a cherry cheesecake in years. Cherry is still not my favorite fruit pie, although I will no longer turn a slice down. Because pie. And really – because of the ice cream that I inevitably put on top of fruit pie.

But during my icebox pie phase that is still continuing from the summer, I tried to recreate MeMaw’s cherry cheesecake, and I was delighted to find that I still love it just as much as I did when I took that first bite.

My version doesn’t taste exactly like hers. I think she added lemon juice which I did not, and I definitely dosed mine with a healthy glug of Chairman’s Reserve. But it still hits my nostalgia receptor right on its synapse (don’t @ me if my olfactory memory science is off – you get the point).

Ingredients:

• 1 premade graham cracker crust (or make your own like this)
• 8 ounces cream cheese (or the lighter Neufchâtel works fine, too), softened
• 1 cup powdered sugar
• 1 cup heavy cream
• 1-2 tablespoons vanilla
• A shot of spiced rum (or two half shots, as you will not use it all at the same time)
• Your favorite cherry pie filling (canned or you can also make your own)

Steps:

1. In one bowl, beat together the cream cheese, powdered sugar, vanilla, and half the rum.
2. In another bowl (or, if you don’t want to wash the beaters after step 1, a quart-sized mason jar with a tight lid), whip the cream until soft peaks form (alternatively, shake the daylights out of the jar for about four minutes to yield the same results).
3. Fold the results of steps 1 and 2 together until fully mixed and pour into the prepared pie crust.
4. Refrigerate or freeze until set (four-ish hours).
5. Add the rest of the rum to the pie filling and spoon it over the top.
6. Enjoy!

The pie pictured above was made with a premade crust and canned pie filling because I threw it together in the middle of the week between work and choir practice and topped it during a short break from writing later that night. But when you have the time, I highly recommend making both from scratch. The pie, while already delicious just as it is, will be infinitely better.

Also, if you’re on the fence between refrigerator or freezer, it basically comes down to time (freezer is faster) and texture. Do you want the first serving to have the consistency of thick pudding or ice cream? I am Team Ice Cream, so I put mine in the freezer to set, but kept it in the fridge after adding the cherries because they get real weird in the freezer. I have, however, combated this phenomenon before by stirring them right in with the cream cheese /whipped cream before pouring it into the crust, and then you can just keep it frozen. It neither looks nor tastes like MeMaw’s at that point, but it is still glorious.

What was your favorite childhood dessert?

I’m writing about all sorts of foods I grew up with this month.

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