A Frozen Dinner Tastes Like My Mother’s Liberation

On Mother’s Day, I’m thinking fondly of all the time my mother didn’t spend in the kitchen.

The comfort foods of my childhood can be found in the frozen foods aisle. Stouffer’s tuna noodle casserole, Stouffer’s French bread pizza. A few aisles over, in canned foods, Chef Boyardee’s mini ravioli, Campbell’s chicken noodle soup, Spaghetti-O’s with meatballs.

Some people have to track down old family recipes or exotic ingredients to replicate the meals they grew up with. I’m lucky enough to be able to find them easily in the supermarket, ready to serve. If I’m having a bad day and long for the coziness of childhood food-memory, I don’t have to work hard or travel far.

When I was growing up, both of my parents worked, and both of my parents cooked. Two nights a week, my mom worked late, and my dad was in charge of preparing dinner. He had a limited repertoire, but as a kid, getting hamburgers or grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner was no sacrifice. When mom was home, she made dinner, but she too kept it simple, at least on weeknights. It was good, hearty, kid-friendly food. Pot roast in the crock pot, shepherd’s pie. Or even better, a bucket of fried chicken she picked up on the way home from work. My brother and I would get to feel useful, left with…