I always remembered that line in Forrest Gump. It stuck in my head without a place to use it from 1994 until recently. Now I use it when referring to my boyfriend Jason and me (cause we do go together awfully well). And that, naturally, led me to me to name a blog in honor of us and our corresponding love of food.
It's named this, too, not just because of the quote, but because of Good Housekeeping magazines from the 1950s. Leaf thru just one issue and you will see what I mean. Pages of recipes so hideously inedible looking that it's downright good entertainment and impossible not to be utterly fascinating. Jellied ham and tuna molds, Vienna sausages in blankets and, of course, the ubiquitous frozen pea and carrot side dishes looking gray and dejected playing the support role to equally blanched-pale haunches of meat. All decorated with garish pimento pinwheels or radish rosettes... which is like putting makeup on a pig and just as perplexing.
It would seem the reason for the all this had something to do with World War II ending. Suddenly rationing was over so meat, eggs and dairy abounded. A flurry of technological advances had also brought frozen convenience goods into the everyday life. So here's the 1950's housewife, hypnotized by the bright electric hum of the freezer aisles and glossy rows of packaged butt roasts sunning themselves under the florescents in the newly born Supermarket. After years of shelling beans and eating boiled potatoes this will apparently make you go wild with food lust and begin constructing hideously mad dishes like Spam 'n' Limas.