Mention the word “casserole” to a Baby Boomer and they will either smile fondly at the memory of the dinners of their youth or they will shudder violently; sometimes they’ll do both simultaneously. In the dark days before microwaves, casseroles defined what came to be regarded as “cooking” for an entire generation.
My partner and I don’t eat casseroles: Our respective mothers served us enough of these one-dish-wonders in our first 18 years that if we never eat another one we will have still eaten more than our share. My middle sister once told me that she’d rather eat canned cat food than one of Mom’s casseroles. Then she laughed and said that she probably couldn’t tell the difference but I disagreed: The casserole would have crushed Corn Flakes on top.
Given my bias, I was immediately skeptical when we were invited to a bring-your-own casserole party. In a normal environment I would have declined; I don’t like dinner parties where I am expected to cook, but my friend Judy was throwing this party so we had to go.
Judy’s dinner parties are legendary, showing what can be accomplished if you have unlimited free time and unlimited disposable income. She once had a Moroccan dinner party where she removed the dining room set and we ate couscous with our fingers while reclining on the floor on oversized cushions. For her Mexican supper she made a mole sauce that had 32 separate ingredients and was so extraordinary that it brought conversation to a halt and we ate in a reverent silence.
Judy’s instructions for this dinner were specific. Each couple was to bring a 1960’s-era casserole. The casseroles had to feature a meat, a starch, a vegetable, some kind of binding sauce and something crunchy on the top. The meal had to be cooked in the same pot in which it was served.
Of course we accepted and now, looking at the buffet table, I felt a pang of nostalgia for my youth. There was a dish called “Slop”: Kraft’s mac and cheese mixed with ground beef, one can each of tomato soup and cheddar cheese soup, kidney beans, and crushed Fritos on top. The couple responsible for this, in keeping with the party’s 1960’s theme, brought plenty of Cold Duck: You have to admit that everything tastes better with enough Cold Duck.
We brought my mother’s famous Seven Seas Casserole, the very mention of which still causes my sister to gag: canned tuna, Minute Rice and canned peas, with cream of mushroom soup and crushed Ritz crackers on top. (The recipe called for crushed potato chips, but my mom felt the Ritz crackers made it more elegant.)
Equally elegant was the “Curried Shrimp Surprise.” This was linguine mixed with frozen baby shrimp, creamed corn, apple sauce and frozen mixed vegetables with fried wonton noodles on top. This was served with a salad: Orange Jell-O mixed with canned Mandarin oranges, maraschino cherries, coconut and Dream Whip.
As you would expect, the star of the show was Judy’s “Ham Toss.” This was chunks of canned ham mixed with mashed, canned yams, Brussels sprouts, and pecans held together by what tasted like maple syrup, with Lucky Charms on the top. Judy, as hostess, also served a basket of Wonder Bread.
On the way home, my partner and I critiqued the various casseroles that we had eaten and we decided they were pretty much in keeping with what our mothers used to serve. “I liked the Slop,” he said, reflectively and I agreed, although personally I would have served it with Asti Spumante.