Chef Boyardee is now persona non grata

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21. "Chef Boyardee is now persona non grata"

As an American of Italian descent, I have to say, "As he should be".

[Please read this as if you can see the twinkle in my eyes]

I don't care if he fed the multitudes and cured the blind, I would sooner spit on my Grandma's grave than eat that stuff. I read an article about weird punishments that people experienced as a child, and one guy wrote that his Italian grandmother made him eat Chef Boyardee when he was in the doghouse. And, yes, you may insert your own jokes about feeding that stuff to a dog before reading further.

Now, I have sympathy for those who had to keep food on the table within the confines of a limited income. I grew up in a family of seven that included four very hungry boys. My mother, who was not Italian, learned her mother-in-law's recipes out of necessity. A huge pot of rigatoni, (less messy than spaghetti) was far less expensive than a few cans of pre-made, military-grade synthesized ravioli. Of, course, this did involve making an equally huge pot of tomato sauce and not everybody had my Grandma's guidance.

But (semi) seriously, I'd still rather toss some pasta in olive oil and a little garlic than endure Chef Boyardee. And there are a few jarred tomato sauces that I can eat without being weighed down by generations of Italian-Catholic guilt. (Ragu is not one of them. Their commercials make me want to throw a brick into my television.)

So, in summary, you can probably tell that I take Italian food waaay too seriously. What can I say? My family was pretty messed up to the point that the neighbors had to call the cops on us every 18 months or so. But if my mother ever broke out the Chef Boyardee, someone in the extended family would have called Child Protective Services and probably the Humane Society, too-- just to make sure that the dog was okay.

Thus endeth the rant, which, again, you must read me saying in a teasing tone with a lot of animated hand gestures.