There is something very sad and depressing about this picture from my 1972 Betty Crocker Make-Ahead Cookbook. Is it the sorry piece of “Hamburger-Onion Hoedown” with the burnt top and the dry and crumbly inside? Is it the depressing looking pieces of carrots and celery that are supposed to constitute some sort of side-dish? Is it the sorry excuse for a plate – that could possibly really be a lid to a tupperware bowl?
You know this was the dinner of some lonely latch-key kid that her mom made three days ago because she wasn’t going to be home for dinner because she discovered women’s lib and wanted to go out and get a job and stuff, and decided that working in a crappy department store was more important than being a mom, becuase that was so, like, 50s and outdated. And dad’s at the bar down the street having a drink because he doesn’t do the cooking thing because that’s women’s work, or so that’s what his dad said, and his dad before that – and what the hell is up with this women’s lib stuff anyway?
Sorry li’l Hamburger-Onion Hoedown – buck up!