How I Learned to Stop Worrying (About Frozen Pizza) and Love the (Ellio's) Box

As a hard-core foodie, I usually go to great lengths to avoid anything fast, fried or frozen. However, as a harried, hurried mother of two overactive undereaters, I sometimes go to greater lengths to avoid meltdowns (and dishes, I freely admit.)  It is no exaggeration to say I've tried everything to get nutrition into my tiny tigers. "Everything!" I tell the pediatrician, the endocrinologist, the occupational therapist and the dietitian whose lists of suggestions are longer than my to-do lists. 

Then there's Dad, who is much less paid than the aforementioned corps of kid professionals, and he says, "Frozen pizza. Try frozen pizza.  It's full of calories and fat. And they will eat it."  I say, "Not on my watch.  Do you have any idea how bad that stuff is?" The list of unpronounceable ingredients fills up the whole back side of the box--in a 4 pt font! But, then when Mom's night out comes along, I relinquish my rights and head out the door, fast. What I don't think about can't hurt them, right?

So then after leaving them with a sitter for the weekend (woo hoo!), I came home to find empty Ellio's frozen pizza boxes in the recycling bin. I was thankful for my time off and thankful that the kids (and the sitter) were still here when we returned. And, so I forgivingly and calmly and sat down  to read the ingredients...when what to my wondering eyes should appear? Here is a frozen pizza (i.e. a meal fully prepared and consumed by my children in under 30 minutes) with an ingredient list that nearly complies with my 10-agenda:  Ten or so ingredients that occur naturally and that I don't need a dictionary to define or pronounce. While this pizza does have a few more than ten ingredients, we'll give them a pass since there is  crust dough, sauce and cheese to consider.

Just look at this.  There is almost nothing in this list I wouldn't use in my own homemade pizza:

Enriched Wheat Flour, Water, Soybean Oil, Sugar, Yeast, Whey Protein Concentrate, Salt, Tomato Paste, Spice, Dried Garlic, Low-Moisture Part Skim Mozzarella Cheese.


Of course many would argue that enriched flour has its own ingredient list (and dirty laundry list), and I do not disagree.  I'm just saying, compared to any other frozen pizza I've encountered, Ellio's gets my vote for the least of all evils. (How's that for a ringing endorsement?)

Also, I got a free chuckle out of the warning on the box:

CAUTION: PRODUCT BECOMES HOT WHEN COOKED.


(Full-disclosure: I know nothing about the company that produces Ellio's, except that it has a real physical, google-able address instead of a Distributed by or Manufactured for address.  It may be run by the sanitation department of Lisle, IL, for all I know, but for the purposes of this post we'll suspend our disbelief, ok?)



     

Everyone Has A Recipe ... Even Pop Pop

In light of (in honor of) recent family medical events, I want to share my dad's recipe.  While I do know men who have full recipe card boxes (well, at least one) and many who know how to open a cookbook and follow instructions, most dads these days rely on pizza delivery, takeout and fast food when the moms are absent for the evening. Very few, I suspect, have their own recipes. Hardy Beans is that recipe for my dad, or Pop Pop as he goes by these days.  This is the one he used on "dad's night."

My husband's recipe for these occasions is simply: remove from freezer, open box, place in oven, remove from oven, sprinkle with red pepper flakes.  My dad's recipe was only slightly more involved than that and was implemented a lot more often.

When he was 30, my dad was married, father of four, and full-time college student. To make this possible, logistically and financially, my mom worked the evening shift as a supervising nurse at the local hospital. So many days, if not most, dad was supervisor of the supper-time shift. This was in the late 1960's, so pizza delivery was not all that common.. Although McDonald's was around (though not having served a billion hamburgers yet) it was not within walking distance and my parents had only one car between them (a Volkswagon bus). Besides, McDonald's, not yet the corporate behemoth it is now, really was a special occasion deal for our family.  Probably Mom prepared some meals for us ahead of time, and probably Dad had more in his repertoire, but the recipe that stuck with me (and my siblings) is Hardy Beans.  Just three ingredients made this nutritious and delicious repast:  One pound of ground chuck, one can of baked beans, and about a half a bottle of ketchup.  And the method was as simple as it gets: brown meat, add beans, heat through, add ketchup to taste.

As I read that now, I admit it does not sound all that appealing. Dad claims we loved it so much we begged him to make it.  Mom shudders anytime it is mentioned, swearing she herself never made it or ate it. According to Dad, the time period when he served it was short lived, too.  Having completed most of his degree requirements through night-school, he finished college a year or so later and perhaps, never made Hardy Beans again. But we kids talked about it and laughed about it for years afterward.  As a young adult I made it my own go-to camping meal.  The meat stayed frozen in my backpack until the first night's campfire meal. Cooking it on a campfire brought on dual feelings of "Look at me! I'm a big girl impressing my friends with my camping skills!" and "Oh what I wouldn't give to be the baby of the family again." I still sometimes long for that time when we were all cozy in our matching hooded sweatshirts, squished together on a bench in the warm kitchen of a tiny rented house, waiting for our cooking, always singing, dad to put dinner on the table.

So as this baby girl grew older, I tweeked and embellished this basic recipe in innumerable ways. Adding onions and peppers to the browning meat, substituting real tomatoes for the ketchup, using any kind of beans to avoid the ubiquitous can of Heinz Pork and Beans.  During my 10 year vegetarian stint, I traded the meat for barley pearls. Sauteed with caramelized or toasted onions and a bit of red wine, barely takes on a nutty flavor and chewiness just like ground chuck (well, almost.)

Tonight, in honor of Pop Pop's recent surgery, I think I'll make it with kidney beans.

Post Script:  As with any discussion about words in my family, the dictionary was consulted when I tried to confirm the spelling of the name of this never written out recipe, hardy or hearty? Mom was insisting on hearty as it describes food.  Dad said he always assumed it was hardy.  Instinctively, Mom reached for her ever handy Webster's New Collegiate that she received for her 75th birthday from her four-year-old grandson. (The previous version had been given to her on her 40th birthday by her father.)

Standing in the doorway of the room where my father in his comfy chair recovered from his recent radical nephrectomy, my mother read from the giant tome held in one hand while the other hand waived in the air, looking much like a preacher. Upon hearing the two definitions, abundant, rich, or flavorful enough to satisfy the appetite...     or    ... inured to fatigue or hardships, robust, capable of withstanding adverse conditions, he chose the latter, perhaps recalling those exhausting times spent making dinner for four little hoodlums and simultaneously making Dean's List.  And as with most of the arguments I have witnessed between my parents, they were both so right, it's no wonder they argue.

Want the recipe?  Follow my dad's recipe, or get more involved with my version of it.  Either way, it is a hearty (or hardy) one-dish skillet meal, perfect for a rainy/snowy winter evening like tonight.

Hardy Beans
One pound ground meat of choice (lean beef, pork, meatloaf mix or turkey)
One medium yellow onion, diced


One can of Bush's baked beans
                             or
One 12-oz can of kidney beans, drained
One tablespoon molasses or brown sugar
One tablespoon apple cider vinegar

One can of diced tomatoes, undrained
Salt and pepper to taste

Brown the meat, add the onions and saute stirring occasionally until onions are translucent and sweet smelling. Add beans and tomatoes, salt and pepper.  Simmer for 15-20 minutes. Garnish with crumbled cheese of choice.  Serve with crusty bread and butter.