Food as culture – II
Early in my visits to Lydia’s parents as her new boyfriend, I encountered Super Juice. Little did I know that I was facing a culinary phenomenon of the 20th Century.
Super Juice appeared on the dinner table after being poured from an old mayonnaise jar into a cream pitcher. It was thick and white and speckled with bits of seasoning. Ostensibly it was a salad dressing, but the Robinson family seemed to put in on nearly everything on their plates, potatoes, green beans, and French fries. It was something called Hidden Valley dressing and came in little packets that were sold much like Tupperware or Avon products. You couldn’t get it in the stores, at least not then. Mom Robinson had purchased a small flat box from a woman at her work. I suspect that the original purchase was much like the purchase one makes of cookies, or wrapping paper from a co-worker who is trying to help out a reluctant child in fundraising efforts. At any rate, the packet was mixed with mayonnaise and buttermilk of all things. Once the lumpy, gloppy result was blended, it was allowed to age for a day or two before being used.
The name ‘Super Juice’ was instigated by Lyd’s brother Chris who, already a college graduate, returned home at some point to discover his family pouring the stuff on everything including, he claimed, their breakfast cereal. Eventually ranch dressing became available in bottles at the grocery store, though it was several years before we deigned to try the commercial stuff. Most people call it ranch dressing, but in our house, it is still Super Juice.