King-Sized Balls

This recipe goes to some lengths to make this dish consisting of ground meat rolled into balls sound exciting and quick to make — but what it says to your family is “I work for a living, don’t have time to cook for y’all, can’t be bothered to stop by the drive-thru, and frankly don’t give a damn.”

Only they wouldn’t say “damn,” they’d say “fuck.” The husband, he’d probably say “damn!” when served this (if he’s particularly fond of canned cheese soup) and tuck right in. But if he’s not a fan of the soup-as-sauce method, he would probably utter a loud “fuck!” and throw his newspaper down. Only he wouldn’t be reading a newspaper, he’d be clutching a beer in a can, and a bit would splash out of the pop-top onto the table. Only it wouldn’t be a table, it’d be a countertop.

The son, he’d push his chair back and say there weren’t no way he was going to eat fluffy grass, by which he means the parsley garnish. Only it wouldn’t be a garnish made from parsley; it’d be fluffy grass.

The daughter would try to mollify her father by saying “at least it’s not Cream of Mushroom or stuffing mix like last time,” only she’d insert the word “fucking” in there a few times, and then get told off for using foul language. Then she’d sulk.

The Mom would plop down in her chair and light a cigarette, lean her head back, let out a long stream of forceful smoke, and say “take it or leave it.”

The cat would hop up onto the table and sniff it, then walk away. The dad would say “scat!” and hit it with a napkin. Only it wouldn’t be a napkin; it’d be a rolled-up copy of Guns & Ammo.

“Y’all are ungrateful sonsofbitches,” the mom would complain, then play the pity card by following up with “I work my fingers to the bone to put food on this here table and make it healthy and pretty and what do I get for my trouble?” Only she’d probably just stare at them without saying anything.

Then she’d take one of the king-sized balls and cut into it, ignoring the alarmingly pink tint at its center. She’d put a forkful in her mouth and chew.

The rest of the family would look at her.

Then she’d swallow and put her fork down and say “Jesus.”

Ground Meat Cook Book, Better Homes and Gardens, 1969

Also from this book: Top-Notch Turkey Loaf, Cooties Especial, Hamburger Helper?, Meaty Surprise!, Peppy-Sauced Meatloaf, Ham Strata, Tangiers Hash

Confetti Meatball Supper

The term confetti comes to us via the tradition of tossing sugared almonds at couples on their wedding day so that they may be fruitful. Being pelted with hard sweets isn’t much fun, however, and rice (which was also used for the same purpose) tends to get all swollen and rotten when exposed to moisture. Colored paper shapes are thankfully used instead — what we today consider confetti. It is not just limited to weddings either, since no-one gets married nowadays, so it is thrown at any festive occasion.

One assumes that the association with colorful fragments denoting joy is what allows any dish featuring a sprinkle of color in the form of chopped vegetables to be called a Confetti. The joy, sadly, is missing from this particular dish, though the caption strongly suggests the arrangement gives it “eye appeal.”

Note how the recipe for this delicious-looking Confetti Meatball Supper does not feature an ingredients list. This is because the ingredients are:

1 can condensed Cheddar Cheese soup

¼ cup ketchup

1 teaspoon minced onion

1 teaspoon Worcestershire Sauce

1 cans Meatballs in Gravy

Package precooked rice

1 can mixed vegetables

2 tablespoons canned pimento

¼ teaspoon salt

Some things are worth noting here, and it’s not that this involves mostly things that come out of cans or bottles. What does one do with the rest of the onion after you only dice a slice of it?

Please note the recipe for what can only be the bastard child of take-out cuisine: an Indian Pizza. This Frankenmeal is achieved through the clever addition of curry powder to a pizza. It’s neither Italian nor Indian: it’s just horrid.

After Work Cook Book, Better Homes and Gardens, 1974