8 cheap meals from the 70s and 80s that every kid remembers but nobody talks about anymore

The other day, I was cleaning out my recipe box when a yellowed index card fell out.

Written in my mother's careful script was the recipe for "Tuna Mac Surprise," and suddenly I was eight years old again, sitting at our formica kitchen table, watching steam rise from that familiar casserole dish.

My stomach did a little flip, not from hunger but from memory. It's funny how certain foods can transport you back in time, isn't it?

Those of us who grew up in the 70s and 80s knew a different kind of cooking. Our mothers stretched dollars like elastic bands, turning cans of this and boxes of that into meals that somehow fed a family of five. We didn't call it "creative cooking" or "budget cuisine." It was just Tuesday's dinner.

And while today's food blogs celebrate farm-to-table freshness and organic everything, there's something to be said for those humble meals that shaped our childhoods.

1) Tuna mac surprise

Every family had their version, but the basics were always the same: a box of macaroni and cheese, a can of tuna, and if you were lucky, some frozen peas. My mother would add a can of cream of mushroom soup to make it "fancy."

We ate it at least once a week, usually on Wednesdays when Dad worked late. The surprise wasn't really a surprise at all, but we pretended it was, digging through the noodles like treasure hunters.

These days, when I make my Monday soup from leftovers, I sometimes think about how that simple dish taught me that creativity in the kitchen isn't about expensive ingredients. It's about making something from what you have.

2) S.O.S. (creamed chipped beef on toast)

Do you remember this one? My father, who rarely cooked, would make this on Saturday mornings when Mom slept in. He'd learned it in the army and insisted on calling it by its less polite nickname, which made us kids giggle behind our hands.

White sauce, dried beef from a jar, served over toast that had to be just the right amount of crispy. It looked terrible, frankly, like something that shouldn't be appetizing at all. But there was something comforting about that salty, creamy mess on toast. It filled you up and stuck to your ribs, as my grandmother would say.

3) Porcupine meatballs

Ground beef mixed with rice, rolled into balls, and simmered in tomato sauce until the rice poked out like little quills. We thought it was the height of sophistication because it had a funny name and looked interesting on the plate.

The rice stretched the meat, making a pound of ground beef feed six people easily. I made these for my own kids when money was tight during those single mother years, and they loved them just as much as I had.

There's something magical about food with a story, even if that story is just about making ends meet.

4) American goulash

This had absolutely nothing to do with Hungarian goulash, of course. Elbow macaroni, ground beef, tomato sauce, and whatever vegetables were hanging around. Some families added cheese, others didn't. We had it every other Thursday, like clockwork.

The pot would sit on the stove, and we'd serve ourselves seconds and thirds, filling our bowls while we talked about our days. It wasn't Instagram-worthy, but it brought us to the table together, and isn't that what matters?

5) Beanie weenies

Hot dogs sliced into coins and mixed with baked beans. Sometimes served over white bread, sometimes just in a bowl. It was the meal that appeared when the grocery money had run out before payday. We never complained because somehow those little hot dog rounds made regular baked beans feel special.

When I taught high school, I'd sometimes mention this meal to my students, and they'd look at me with horror or fascination, depending on their own backgrounds. But those who knew, really knew.

6) Mock apple pie

Here's one that still amazes me: a pie made with Ritz crackers instead of apples. The crackers, soaked in sugar syrup with lemon juice and cinnamon, somehow transformed into something that tasted remarkably like apple pie. It was pure kitchen alchemy.

We only had it on special occasions because even though it was cheaper than real apple pie, pie of any kind was still a luxury. The first time I made a real apple pie as an adult, I was almost disappointed that it didn't have that peculiar, wonderful fakeness I remembered.

7) Salmon patties

A can of pink salmon, breadcrumbs, an egg, and into the frying pan they went. Served with ketchup if you were a kid, tartar sauce if you were trying to be grown up. The bones in the canned salmon were soft enough to eat, and my mother insisted they were good for us, full of calcium.

We'd have them with canned corn and instant mashed potatoes, the holy trinity of quick sides. They were crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, and somehow felt like a treat even though they cost less than a dollar to make.

8) Tang and space food sticks

Okay, this wasn't exactly a meal, but if you grew up in the 70s, you remember when Tang and Space Food Sticks were practically food groups unto themselves. We drank that orange powder mixed with water and truly believed we were drinking what the astronauts drank.

Those chewy, vitamin-fortified sticks that came in flavors like chocolate and peanut butter were considered a healthy breakfast on the go. We felt so modern, so space-age, eating our fortified future food.

Final thoughts

These meals might make today's food bloggers cringe, but they fed millions of us, and we turned out just fine. More than fine, actually. We learned that family dinner wasn't about what was on the table but who was around it.

We discovered that creativity comes from constraint, and that love can be spelled out in tuna noodles and hot dog rounds. Every Sunday, no matter how tight things were, we had dinner together as a family, and that tradition mattered more than whether we were eating roast beef or beanie weenies.

Sometimes I think we've lost something in our quest for perfect nutrition and photogenic plates. Those humble meals taught us gratitude, creativity, and the simple truth that being together was the secret ingredient all along.