It's interesting how for many people, their childhood memories centre around food. Whether they were special event meals, holiday fare, or memorable foods mom or grandma cooked. I too have fond childhood memories of a particular mealtime.
When I was about seven years old we moved from a shack in northern Ontario, to a series of rooms and flats in the big city. Both my parents worked. Back then, eating lunch at school was not a thing. You went somewhere, anywhere. Sometimes, as a treat I was allowed to go to Morris' Grocery Store on the corner of Clinton Street. I'd ask for a bun and he'd put the 5 cents "on the bill", to be paid by my parents later. Once a month or so, mom and dad would spring for a lunch counter meal near my school and I'd get fish and chips wrapped in newspaper. Even now, I can almost smell the wonderful intermingled aroma of fish, chips, and newsprint. I was a young child, but fears for safety did not seem to be an issue back then.
My dad often worked shifts, so generally, I was able to come home for lunch. He usually prepared a Kraft singles cheese sandwich, or Campbell's soup (mushroom, chicken noodle or tomato). From time to time there was vegetable soup, but I hated those weird little white and orange cubes floating in what looked like red grease. The peas were identifiable, nothing else was.
It was very special being able to spend even a short time alone with dad each day. As strange as it sounds, we occasionally watched soap operas (they were 15 min. episodes back then) or cartoons. Other times, we assembled something with Minibrix or grew sea monkeys on the kitchen table. There was not much time, but we made the best of it.
On very rare occasions, dad had a day off and made one of our all time favourite foods...rice and canned Puritan meatballs. This particular meal took a little longer to prepare and was also a go-to camping lunch. I recall that the cans were a bit larger back then, nonetheless, dad and I polished one off by ourselves. On our camping trips, there was magically enough for all three of us to eat. It may have had something to do with my mom's insistence on vegetables and the addition of a very delicious salad to complement the meal.
I had totally forgotten about rice and meatballs until my stepmom asked about them some months prior to dad's death. She wondered why he kept talking about rice and meatballs and why, although her homemade meatballs were fantastic, dad kept insisting they weren't the same.
"The same as what?" she would ask.
I explained about the canned meatballs as best I could.
During his final months, we brought dad to our house from time to time. I found, and sometimes made him rice and canned meatballs. His face lit up. I'm not certain whether this processed food was really that delicious to him, or whether it just triggered some wonderful memories of years gone by.
I had forgotten about canned meatballs until I spotted a familiar looking tin with a not so familiar logo at our local Giant Tiger. Cordon Bleu? Was my memory that poor? Despite the exorbitant price, nostalgia made me want to pick up a can and try them. I did, and the taste was as fantastic as I had remembered. (Of course, these would not be to everyone's taste. I do hear some refrains of "yuck" as people are reading this). My friend Google told me that the Puritan company had been bought out at some point. This explained the only slightly different looking label.
The good news is that we have since located the meatballs at Walmart. The price is slightly lower than it had been. Possibly the newer cans have shrunk like so many other products nowadays.
Alas, canned meatballs live on! Yayyy...
But wait. Do I detect Puritan products on the same shelf?
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