NONFICTION  -  with a focus on Food

Strange Foods in a Strange Land
by Lucy Sweeney

By the end of seventh grade for me, and sixth grade for Mel, we knew that we would be leaving San Francisco for good. It was sad news indeed. We would be saying goodbye to school chums from St. Peter’s, where we had been since the first and second grades. We would be moving from our newly built house on Teddy Street; it would be sold. We wouldn’t be close by to our aunties and uncles any more. Dad had found a new place to teach Spanish.
 
In July, Dad loaded up the station wagon as only he could. Clothes, diapers and furniture for baby Glenn; wardrobe for us school age kids; bedding and our pillows. Mom would stay behind while Dad looked for a house. In the meantime, we were off to Grandma’s at the other end of California. At least something would still be familiar.
 
Dad left Glenn and me with Grandma and Grandpa in San Ysidro. He and Mel went to look for a house near his new job in Fontana. Some houses were too small, others were too old. Mel vetoed the nice house with the fire ants in the backyard. The search ranged farther away from Fontana, toward Los Angeles. When Mom got the phone call about the new house in Ontario, she called the moving company to clean out the San Francisco house.
 
Our Ontario house was on the newer side of town. There were still orange groves at the end of the block in 1953. We moved in during the heat of August. There was not a single living plant in the backyard. The place looked like a desert. It would be a real challenge to Mom’s green thumb.
Picture
A 1950s Post Card of Mt. Baldy - by the Author
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We could see Mount Baldy from the front of the house; it was about 10 minutes away by car. A forest fire raged on its slope, something never seen in San Francisco. The towering flames were visible both day and night. Smoke blanketed the area. Fortunately, we were never in any danger. The fire was contained and extinguished after five days. This new place would take some getting used to.
 
However, there was something which I never did get used to—the summer heat . . . high 90’s to low 100’s. Houses were not air conditioned in those days. Dad and Mel quickly built a cement slab for a porch to shield the back of the house from the afternoon sun. Because of the heat, we would need a completely different set of clothes than those we wore in San Francisco. I sewed a few cotton dresses, blouses and skirts. Mom made Dad and Mel some short-sleeved shirts, another thing not seen in San Francisco.

Little by little, we learned how to deal with house flies, strangers to us in our old homes. Mel and I had to remember to move fast through the front and back doors. At sunset, the flies would disappear. We also had to learn a completely new protocol to keep the kitchen sanitary. Anything with milk had to be rinsed out immediately. Otherwise, because of the heat, within 15 minutes the milk would turn sour and begin to reek. The same with anything which contained sugar. If the Kool-Aid mug wasn’t rinsed, in a short time the black trail of ants from the kitchen window would cover the sugary liquid. Why all the rinsing? Because there were no dishwashers in homes until the 1970’s.
 
You wouldn’t think that food would be different in Southern California. After all, women throughout America read Ladies Home Journal and Good Housekeeping. The same recipes appeared throughout the country. However, when I attended my first potluck with my new friends, I found out otherwise. Some of the salads looked familiar. There were also Jell-O dishes, both as salads and as desserts, a new treat. Okay, let’s sample a little of each.
 
Among the hotdishes, I recognized a familiar friend—beans. As Mexicans, my family ate beans prepared in a variety of ways. The beans on the table before me had a sauce—I knew this style. However, the sauce was cinnamon colored. Possibly this cook added chili to their dish. So what, I said to myself as I served the beans.
 
Next came a square pan which was labeled “Tuna Casserole.” I like tuna, so I’ll try this, too. Then there was something which I had never seen at home—chip and dip. Everyone else was raving about the dip. Let’s put the dip and the chips on the plate. What kid doesn’t like potato chips! People were right, the dip was delicious, and with the chips—yum, yum. I asked my friend how she and her mom made the dip.
 
“Oh, it’s easy. One container of sour cream, one brick of cream cheese and a package of onion soup.”
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Then I tasted the tuna casserole, which was topped with potato chips. It was nothing like I’d eaten at home. So I asked another friend if she knew what was in it.
 
“My mom makes this all the time, too. It’s a layer of potato chips, then a layer of tuna, then mushroom soup.”
 
“Mushroom soup?” I asked.
 
“Yes, you thin it out with milk so it will pour over the potato chips and tuna.”
 
“Oh,” said I, thinking to tell my mom about this recipe and the one for the dip. ​

Then it was time for the beans. In went the forkful. Yaag, what a shock! These beans were sweet. Beans aren’t supposed to be sweet. I had to wash them down with the Hawaiian Punch, which wasn’t as sweet as those beans.
 
At that potluck, I learned some very valuable lessons.

  • Always compliment the person who brought the dish, even if you think it’s bilge water.
  • If you’ve discovered a new food, ask the person how it’s made.
  • Tuna Casserole is okay once in a while, maybe. Fortunately, it disappeared from our menus in the ‘60’s
  • The dip was delicious. It still appears at potlucks from time to time, made either with a mix of onion soup, or of Green Goddess dressing.
  • Never eat Pork and Beans again. 
Picture
3 Buddies all dressed up - Lucy is on the left - Photo by Author
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lucy Sweeney is a graduate of UC Berkeley with a major in Music. She remained a serious choral singer while working as a professional baker, performing with Masterworks Chorale. Upon her return to teaching, she performed with the Stanford Early Music Singers and the San Francisco Symphony Chorus. Lucy discovered the joys of genealogy research when she retired. She edited Lozano, a book of stories about her extended family. With expert guidance from Barbara Rose Brooker at OLLI, Lucy wrote “Silent Hero,” the story of her father in World War II. Lucy and her grandson Adam are currently writing a family cookbook.
   
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​Vistas & Byways Review is the semiannual journal of fiction, nonfiction and poetry by members of Osher Lifelong Learning Institute (OLLI) at San Francisco State University​.
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