When I was younger, there existed what can only be described as the best mass-produced, highly processed, highly caloric and in no way a nutritious part of your daily breakfast commodity: the Carnation Instant Breakfast Bar. In theory, you ate this widget with a glass of milk, and it replaced your normal breakfast; in practice, this was the closest I could get to an honest-to-goodness candy bar*, and it served as lunch add-on, afternoon snack, secret Nyet when-the-parents-weren't-counting double** dip indulgence, and general staple of my growth spurts. I remember them beyond fondly; they were, in short, friggin' delicious and one of my all-time favorite foods. And maybe they had some vitamins or were generally Niacin enriched, but man, they were fatty, salty and drenched in chocolate; there's no way they were just a Rice Krispies substitute. Here's a picture of a retro mid-seventies version of the box (I don't remember that particular packaging) that gives you the general idea: granola, chocolate chips, peanut butter - the illusion of healthiness - dipped in milk chocolate.
* - This has come up a fair bit lately, partly in response to my recent changes in eating habits - once upon a time, my parents were semi-militant about "good foods." Candy bars, and sugary items in general, were verboten. We weren't allowed to have sweet cereals (like Frosted Flakes, Trix, etc.), we could only drink half a can of diet soda per day, breakfast bars were limited to one per day, we generally had peas or another veggie with meals, and bedtime snacks were, famously, small portions of green jello. All of these restrictions, though, didn't exactly form part of a coherent system of hippie nutrition. For example, I couldn't have sweet cereal, but I could eat three heaping bowls of Cheerios every morning with corresponding heaping spoonfuls of sugar. When we went out to Luby's after church, I got more food than I can now envision, including two portions of "breaded beef cutlet" (which is a bizarre euphemism for chicken-fried steak). When my dad was in charge of meals - Monday nights, when my mom was at Jazzercise - we strictly ate pizza***, and strictly pepperoni pizza at that. There are numerous other examples, but perhaps more telling is that the strictest rules were only in place until I was about seven or eight (and Aaron was about four or five), and they then they died off... and how. We drank sodas left and right, ate party pizzas with reckless abandon, and had lunches that featured the infamous "Something Sandwich" - peanut butter, butter, and sugar - two to three times per week. We were slowly allowed to eat sugar cereals on the weekend which at some point morphed into every day - my brother's consumption of Cinnamon Toast Crunch is legendary - and three to four scoop nightly ice cream snacks became the rule. All of this speaks to two things - one, we were apparently psychotically active kids, and this had to be twelve thousand daily calories. Two, my parents were very, very busy and definitely lived the double professional career life. They tried hard to feed us right and all of that, but the "it's hard to come home and cook" rumors were certainly true; they just didn't have time, and the rules got lax accordingly. You can imagine what happened in high school when my crazy athletic schedule was added to the dual-professional mix, and *then* I was actively instructed to eat so as to gain weight - we were hitting up Wendy's on the way to baseball games, choking down real sodas and gigantor gatorades every day, Reece's Peanut Butter Cup four packs as a post-workout pick-me-up... yikes. It's kinda insane looking back on it, and very telling that I more or less instantly gained twenty pounds - the same twenty pounds coaches had long wanted me to gain - the second I stopped playing high school sports; those eating habits and that appetite were eighteen years-ingrained by that point. Anyhoo, all of this is not to question parenting techniques or anything, just to show that even with smart, informed parents with the best of intentions starting off, it's tough to raise American kids with good eating habits. Though my dad's aversion to fish and the general Midwestern lack of culinary imagination were probably culpable components in my boring preference development, too.
** - Or triple, or quadruple, sextuple, octuple... seriously, my parents had to be aware that I eating Breakfast Bars by the handful. I definitely ate entire boxes in a sitting; they were my binge food for sure. Again, I was a crazy-active kid, so the calories were probably needed, but no one ever said "hey, Nyet, I just bought six boxes of Breakfast Bars yesterday and we're down to one left; what gives?" So, um, thanks? I can't pretend that y'all didn't know.
*** - This Monday night pizza tradition is still going strong in the Nyetfam; who knew that Jane Fonda would continue to have such influence into the 2010s? This also sparked two other trends - one, my dad famously game my brother and me one piece of pizza per year of our ages. The math equations involved figuring out exactly how much skinnier each pizza slice got as we aged are astounding, but if you press him, you can get my dad to admit that he was essentially giving us the exact same amount of food as he made sure that he got his usual share. Two, aside from grilling and such, pizza was pretty much my dad's go to meal. On one occasion, when he and my mom were going out for dinner and time was limited - the babysitter was en route or something - my dad didn't have time for pizza and so cooked us hot dogs and lima beans smothered in Cheese Whiz. And yes, that would be my very last choice for pre-execution meal. I am gagging just thinking about it. For shame.
As you can probably deduce from the use of the past tense, Carnation Breakfast Bars were discontinued at some point in the late '80s / early '90s. And a sad gasp crossed the land. There were similar products here and there - Quaker had chocolate-coated granola bars, and a close, too-sweet facsimile called a Kudos bar (really, the savory aspect of the BB was the key) made some appearances in our house - but nothing could replace that preposterously tasty concoction. I have no idea why it was discontinued, and I wasn't paying close enough attention at the time to notice - they were just gone. We all moved on, I suppose - actually, probably to the aforementioned Reece's Peanut Butter Cups - but recently, again probably on reflection of my changing eating habits and pondering what caused me to develop the restricted tastes I until very recently have always had, I caught myself looking through the Carnation instant Breakfast Shakes and remembrancing things past.
And lo: that big introduction is just to point out that at some point this week I developed a hankering. A looming SLUG-free Saturday gave me an opportunity to do some cooking - WHAT??!?!?, I know - so I hit up the interwebs, found a loose-copy recipe, and set out to make some homemade Breakfast Bars. Just think of this as "Cooking for James." Here's my best Beck-post imitation:
Menu:
Faux-nation Instant Breakfast Bars
Nyet's Turkey-Eggwhite-Corn-and-Broccoli Casserole
Faux-nation Instant Breakfast Bars
Serves 8-16 (or one nine-year old Nyet)
1 Cup Spanish Peanuts (Peeled and Crushed to a near powder)
1 Cup Rolled Toasted Oats
1 Cup Rice Krispies
½ Cup Miniature chocolate chips
1/3 Cup Light Karo Syrup
8 oz. Milk Chocolate
1.
Combine all dry ingredients and mix thoroughly. Mix in Karo Syrup until mixture clumps together.
2. Line a small pan with wax paper and PACK the mixture FIRMLY into pan.
3. Melt the milk chocolate and spread over top of mixture and refrigerate until firm (at least one hour).
Notes:
1. Spanish peanuts, as far as I can tell, means standard issue bagged peanuts. Easy enough. I went to town with a pestle and mortar, and it didn't even cost me a spell point:
2. No need to find rolled oats. But you can certainly toast your whole grain Quaker Oats easily enough - 10 minutes at 350 in the oven or toaster oven gets 'er done nicely.
3. Beck suggested honey in place of the corn syrup - they're calorically equivalent, so it really depends if you want a touch of honey or a touch of vanilla (which the corm syrup has). They're both sufficiently sticky.
4. The original recipe called for 36 (!!!) ounces of milk chocolate which is absolutely preposterous. Eight ounces was perfect, though you'll note that this recipe merely tops the filling whereas in the real deal the bars are completely coated. I suppose advanced cooking would have you dip the filling in chocolate, but that seems hella messy, and this gets the job done. And now, gloriously melt-y chocolate chips:
As long as I'm at it, more proof that I actually threw these together from scratch:
Review: Unsurprisingly, the home version falls short of the original - the taste isn't really all that close, and this has a much more trail-mix granola that just happens to have a chocolate coating feel. (The topping actually reminds me of Grandma's three layered cookies, fwiw). But it's very easy to make, and it does generally have that savory / chocolatey combo. I will employ my better half to se if we can spice it up to better mimic my memories, but this is a grade B recipe that gets it done for the time being.
It, as I suspect is the case for the original, is not good for you. The whole dish is 2,840 calories with 137 grams of fat, 367 g of carbohydrates, 58 grams of protein and a scant 16 grams of fiber. The bulk of those carbs and fat are coming from the chocolate, which makes it further hilarious that the original called for 4.5 times at much milk chocolate. Dios mio! Anyways, I split the dish into 16ths, making each square 180 calories. It would make a fantastic dense caloric Ultimate snack if not for the chocolate - particularly here in Sunny Azz, chocolate Ulty snacks get gooey fast. Anyways, a good little dish to be eaten in moderation, says a much older, much wider Nyet to his childhood self.
As an added bonus, this is what I had for lunch today:
Nyet's Turkey-Eggwhite-Corn-and-Broccoli Casserole
1/4th pound of lean ground turkey
7 egg whites
1 oz. soft goat cheese
1 cup raw broccoli crowns
1/4 cup skim milk
1 large ear sweet corn
Minimal Olive oil
Salt, Pepper
Crushed Red Pepper
Penzey's Adobo and Pizza Spices
1. Travel back in time and brown the turkey. No, really, keep a tub of ground, browned turkey in your fridge for a fast protein additive to any meal. It's a solid move.
2. Lightly baste the corn in olive oil and fry on med high heat, 3 minutes per "side.". Do not spray the pan with cooking spray and then put the heat on high, lest you spend an hour of your life later scrubbing burnt synthetic olive oil off of said pan with steel wool and industrial strength cleaner. Cut the corn off the cob in sheets into a bowl (if you do this on a plate, you will find corn kernels all over your counter).
3. Steam the broccoli crowns by sprinkling them with water, putting them in a Gladware dish and cooking them in the microwave for two minutes. I am so high class.
4. Mix the turkey, egg whites, cheese, milk, corn and broccoli in a bowl. Add the spices to taste.
5. Pour mixture into the frying pan and pretend you are scrambling eggs. Be sure to take off the heat before the egg part is "done," as you don't want to overcook it.
6. Pour cooked food into a big bowl and enjoy thy gruel.
Review: This is a very protein-rich, ~500 calorie meal. It's pretty voluminous, and you could certainly cut down on the corn or eggs if it's too filling. Spicing it well is key, and if you wanted to add hot sauce or ketchup or something, that would be a good call, too. But as is, it's a very workmanlike, easy-to-prepare meal.
Alright, that's my best Beck imitation. Back to the whining...
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