I think it might have something to do with my recently departed father, but I have been craving Hamburger Helper. I’ll explain.
Back when I was a kid in the mid-80s, the factory my dad worked at shut down, and he was out of work for two or three years as mill after mill in the Western Pennsylvania area closed. During that time my mother worked as a receptionist for a doctor, and my dad was put in charge of getting me dinner.
Chili, hot dogs, box mac ‘n’ cheese, chili, cheap fast food, frozen french fries, more chili, and, of course, LOTS of Hamburger Helper were all part of our weekly menus.
I ate so much Hamburger Helper as a kid that I don’t know if I ever bought a box as an adult. Of course, I do have a hazy recollection of Wifey and me cooking a box of Tuna Helper at about 3 AM after we got home from a very “festive” wedding we attended back in the late ’90s. Clearly, at some point in the dirt-poor days of early marriage, I made an exception for Hamburger Helper’s fishy, bastard brother, Tuna Helper.
Anyway, these days, as I sift through the memories of my father and attempt to separate and prioritize what to keep in my brain for the sake of mental health, the thought of us eating Hamburger Helper popped into my mind.
I remembered sitting in front of the TV in our living room with my dad (man rules with mom out of the house), eating copious amounts of the cheap, nitrate-heavy, boxed pasta meals as we farted and watched re-runs of whatever was on at the time (I’m going with WKRP in Cincinnati, followed by M*A*S*H).
While I don’t look back at those stressful days of my dad’s unemployment, short tempers, tears, raised voices, lack of money for things like paying bills, and my young mind trying to understand it all with any fondness, I DO cherish the times we munched away on the ‘Helper as Dr. Jonny Fever yelled, “Booooger!!” into the mic.”
Fast forward 40+ years, and there is no way in hell I am buying a box of that shit again, but I know I have the skills to make my own and gahdamnit, that’s what I did. Yes, I am a 53-year-old man with no applicable education in 2025 who lacks any “man shit knowledge” about things like cars, fixing shit, building shit, killing shit, or making money, but I know how to pull a recipe for homemade Cheeseburger Hamburger Helper out from my flaccid ass cheeks after 30 seconds of glancing at some recipes online.
Vague and Pretty Useless Recipe For Cheeseburger Hamburger Helper As Made For One Fat Man’s Lunch (Made By One Fat Man)
CARBY GOODNESS:
Pasta shells (quality chunky pasta, two servings, cooked for about 6 minutes; it’ll cook the rest of the way in the oven)
BEEF/SAUCE:
Lean ground beef (5 oz.)
Diced yellow onion (small)
Diced green and red Pepper (Half cup)
Minced Garlic (small dose of the shit in a jar)
Tomato Paste (spoonful)
Ketchup (Simply Heinz, little squeeze)
Dijon Mustard (little squeeze)
Salt and Pepper (a few shakes)
Chicken Stock (Beef preferred; use a splash or so)
BÉCHAMEL-ISH MAC ‘N’ CHEESE SAUCE:
Shredded Cheddar Cheese (cup?)
1% Milk (half a cup or so)
All-purpose flour (spoonful as needed)
I Can’t Believe This Shit Ain’t Butter (spoonful)
I added all that shit together, covered it with foil, baked it covered with at 350˚ for 10 minutes, removed the foil, and baked another 5.
Then, I topped it with a few sprinkles of dill relish, sat my ass in my comfy chair, watched some footy, and ate what may have been the best damn Hamburger Helper I ever had. Thank goodness I only made one (fat) person-sized lunch serving, or I would be in a carby coma right now.
There was no WKRP on the TV, but I still made sure to fart and say, “BBBBBBBOOOOOOOGERRRRRRRRR!!!!”
Later.