Vividly. Not only were we poor, but there is an evangelical summer camp on my family farm. My grandmother was the original cook, then my mom took over in the early 80s. We would go to the State depot or whatever it was called and pick up rations for the summer. Giant logs of shitty Smellveeta, cans of overcooked veggies and huge oil cans of peanut butter. The whole time my dad insisting they were exactly the same as brand names.
Man, I wish I’d thought of the name Smellveeta when I was younger.
