Soapweed
Well-known member
FOOD COLORING by Steve Moreland, February 17, 2016
Purple Ketchup
Originally written on February 19, 2003
My teen-aged kids talked their mother into buying some purple ketchup recently. Of course, I howled in protest. They talked me into trying some on a hamburger, and it tasted as bad as it looked. My wife said, "It is all in your imagination. It is just regular ketchup in a different color." I adamantly asserted otherwise, and bragged that if blind-folded, I could sure tell them the difference. It didn't take long for them to bring out a tea-towel, cover my eyes, and take me up on my challenge. As you would guess, even with a fifty percent chance of winning, I missed the call. It is a case of "they won the battle, but I won the war." (I have proclaimed that all future ketchup in this house shall be of a definite red color.)-- (My proclamations are often taken with a grain of salt.)
The whole point of this exhortation is "Perception." What we think that something is does matter, because it is hard to change our "perception" once our mind-set is in place. As beef producers, we need to keep this in mind when promoting our product to the average American house-wife.
It kind of reminds me of the old Alaskan sourdough who was quite an expert in whiskey and other alcohol-related beverages. He challenged some other folks to blind-fold him, give him samples, and he would tell them what kind of liquor it was, what company made it, and the year that is was produced. He was doing just fine and hadn't missed a call. Some wag slipped in a jigger-glass full of pure water just to be ornery. The old sourdough took several sips, swished it around in his mouth, and was completely puzzled. He said, "I thought I knew them all, but you have fooled me this time. The only thing I can tell you for sure, though, is that it will never catch on."
Doughnuts
On one occasion many years ago, our family was on a road trip. We pulled into a gas station/convenience store at 5:45 a.m. I pulled up to the diesel pump to fill our crew cab pickup, but then realized the station didn't open until 6:00 a.m. A lady inside opened the door and told me to go ahead and fill up, even though they hadn't officially opened. I did and then went inside to pay. While there, I purchased a box of doughnuts and some drinks so we could eat while traveling. It was still dark outside, and we pulled onto the highway to cover some miles. I grabbed a doughnut and was happily munching away while Carol passed out food to our three kids. She asked our youngest son (who was about four years old at the time), "What kind of doughnut do you want, Brock?" He replied, "I want a green one like Dad has." Sure enough, those nice powdered sugar doughnuts were moldy green instead of the original white. We turned around, went back to the store, and exchanged boxes of doughnuts.
Easter Eggs
As kids growing up, oftentimes we had Easter Sunday dinner at the home of my grandparents, Jack and Grace Moreland, in Merriman. Usually there were quite a lot of other friends and relatives also there, and we all had a good time. Of course, an Easter egg hunt was always part of the afternoon activities.
Our Methodist pastor at the time was Charlie Davis. He served the Kilgore, Cody, and Merriman parishes. Merriman was the last service for the day, and was completed by noon. Pastor Davis and his family were guests for Easter dinner at my grandmother's house one year. He was one of the egg hiders, and at the end of the hunt some of the eggs didn't get found. Even Pastor Davis couldn't remember where he had hidden them.
The Davis family had moved to Nebraska from New York. They were nice people, and were well accepted into the community. Charlie's wife Betty was an accomplished piano player, and she gave piano lessons at the time. I was even one of her students for a while. She gave music lessons at both the Cody and Merriman schools. The Davis' had a daughter, Barbara, and twin daughters, Jeanie and Joanie. Charlie's Aunt Margaret also lived with them, and she was a "diamond-in-the-rough" type of character.
After staying with the three Methodist churches of Kilgore, Cody, and Merriman for a couple of years, the Davis family felt called to move to Santa Barbara, California to serve in a new church. Our family went to Cody one day to help them load a moving van. We were quite busy for a few hours. It was a bittersweet experience, as the Davis' were nice people and they would be very much missed. Besides, Barbara was only a year younger than me, and she was kind of cute.
After we finished loading the moving truck, the parsonage was empty, and the Davis family was ready to hit the road. Mom had brought along some refreshments for this moment, and we began our rounds of farewells. Charlie Davis announced, "California is a long ways away. Chances are we will never see each other again in our lifetimes, but we will see you all in Heaven." As an afterthought he added, "But you better say good-bye to Aunt Margaret now." This lightened the mood as everyone had a good laugh watching Aunt Margaret pound on her nephew Charlie with her purse.
Fast forward to the next year, and the next Easter. Again we had Easter dinner at Grandma Grace's house. Again we had the traditional Easter egg hunt. Even though the Davis family was now living several states away, one of Charlie's well-hidden eggs from the year before was discovered high in the crotch of a tree. Yes, it was rather "green," and for sure very inedible, but it did conjure up fond memories of Pastor Charlie Davis and his family.
Purple Ketchup
Originally written on February 19, 2003
My teen-aged kids talked their mother into buying some purple ketchup recently. Of course, I howled in protest. They talked me into trying some on a hamburger, and it tasted as bad as it looked. My wife said, "It is all in your imagination. It is just regular ketchup in a different color." I adamantly asserted otherwise, and bragged that if blind-folded, I could sure tell them the difference. It didn't take long for them to bring out a tea-towel, cover my eyes, and take me up on my challenge. As you would guess, even with a fifty percent chance of winning, I missed the call. It is a case of "they won the battle, but I won the war." (I have proclaimed that all future ketchup in this house shall be of a definite red color.)-- (My proclamations are often taken with a grain of salt.)
The whole point of this exhortation is "Perception." What we think that something is does matter, because it is hard to change our "perception" once our mind-set is in place. As beef producers, we need to keep this in mind when promoting our product to the average American house-wife.
It kind of reminds me of the old Alaskan sourdough who was quite an expert in whiskey and other alcohol-related beverages. He challenged some other folks to blind-fold him, give him samples, and he would tell them what kind of liquor it was, what company made it, and the year that is was produced. He was doing just fine and hadn't missed a call. Some wag slipped in a jigger-glass full of pure water just to be ornery. The old sourdough took several sips, swished it around in his mouth, and was completely puzzled. He said, "I thought I knew them all, but you have fooled me this time. The only thing I can tell you for sure, though, is that it will never catch on."
Doughnuts
On one occasion many years ago, our family was on a road trip. We pulled into a gas station/convenience store at 5:45 a.m. I pulled up to the diesel pump to fill our crew cab pickup, but then realized the station didn't open until 6:00 a.m. A lady inside opened the door and told me to go ahead and fill up, even though they hadn't officially opened. I did and then went inside to pay. While there, I purchased a box of doughnuts and some drinks so we could eat while traveling. It was still dark outside, and we pulled onto the highway to cover some miles. I grabbed a doughnut and was happily munching away while Carol passed out food to our three kids. She asked our youngest son (who was about four years old at the time), "What kind of doughnut do you want, Brock?" He replied, "I want a green one like Dad has." Sure enough, those nice powdered sugar doughnuts were moldy green instead of the original white. We turned around, went back to the store, and exchanged boxes of doughnuts.
Easter Eggs
As kids growing up, oftentimes we had Easter Sunday dinner at the home of my grandparents, Jack and Grace Moreland, in Merriman. Usually there were quite a lot of other friends and relatives also there, and we all had a good time. Of course, an Easter egg hunt was always part of the afternoon activities.
Our Methodist pastor at the time was Charlie Davis. He served the Kilgore, Cody, and Merriman parishes. Merriman was the last service for the day, and was completed by noon. Pastor Davis and his family were guests for Easter dinner at my grandmother's house one year. He was one of the egg hiders, and at the end of the hunt some of the eggs didn't get found. Even Pastor Davis couldn't remember where he had hidden them.
The Davis family had moved to Nebraska from New York. They were nice people, and were well accepted into the community. Charlie's wife Betty was an accomplished piano player, and she gave piano lessons at the time. I was even one of her students for a while. She gave music lessons at both the Cody and Merriman schools. The Davis' had a daughter, Barbara, and twin daughters, Jeanie and Joanie. Charlie's Aunt Margaret also lived with them, and she was a "diamond-in-the-rough" type of character.
After staying with the three Methodist churches of Kilgore, Cody, and Merriman for a couple of years, the Davis family felt called to move to Santa Barbara, California to serve in a new church. Our family went to Cody one day to help them load a moving van. We were quite busy for a few hours. It was a bittersweet experience, as the Davis' were nice people and they would be very much missed. Besides, Barbara was only a year younger than me, and she was kind of cute.
After we finished loading the moving truck, the parsonage was empty, and the Davis family was ready to hit the road. Mom had brought along some refreshments for this moment, and we began our rounds of farewells. Charlie Davis announced, "California is a long ways away. Chances are we will never see each other again in our lifetimes, but we will see you all in Heaven." As an afterthought he added, "But you better say good-bye to Aunt Margaret now." This lightened the mood as everyone had a good laugh watching Aunt Margaret pound on her nephew Charlie with her purse.
Fast forward to the next year, and the next Easter. Again we had Easter dinner at Grandma Grace's house. Again we had the traditional Easter egg hunt. Even though the Davis family was now living several states away, one of Charlie's well-hidden eggs from the year before was discovered high in the crotch of a tree. Yes, it was rather "green," and for sure very inedible, but it did conjure up fond memories of Pastor Charlie Davis and his family.
:lol: