Robin C. Johnson and Dot Lofstrom


Before tabbouli, lemon grass, blue M&Ms, and frozen nonfat egg product, Americans must have eaten something. What is American food, anyway? Pretty much anything nowadays. But once upon a time, phrases like, "As American as apple pie," had some basis in a people's identity. And of course some Americans have yet to be enticed by hummus, and are still frying chicken on Sundays. Most cultures have such a food tradition. As ours becomes more and more blurred, as we embrace the cultures of the rest of the world (Chinese, Mexican, Italian, Greek, Thai, and now Japanese), many dishes of the American experience exist more in memory than sur la table. That may be for the best in a lot of cases, but we still like to remember how and what our moms put on our plates.

In my own kitchen, I have long since banned Crisco, but it was a staple in my mother's cupboard, as intrinsic to her larder as lard was, not to mention the omnipresent bacon grease can at the back of the stove.

Although there seems to be a trend now back to cooking from scratch, during the middle 1900s, the prepackaged and convenience food phenomenon began in earnest. Strangely, home cooks embraced shortcuts with a passion, and the advertising industry with their recipe pamphlets and product test kitchens determined what we ate. That was how it happened that my mom in California and your mom in Montana both made a lime Jell-O salad with cottage cheese and pineapple. From that time forth, for the majority of Americans, "making soup" meant opening a can. For this reason, this web site devotes much of its space to familiar brand name foods, and the joy that our shared popular culture can bring. I'd like to welcome you to my web site, where we can remember it all together.