Kid Cuisine

Note: Sadly, I could not find a good picture of the old school packaging featuring 90s mascots BJ and The Chef. You will have to settle for this more recent--and of course, vastly inferior--rendition. I apologize for the visual inconvenience.

As they say, there's just no accounting for taste. Particularly in children, as they usually either a) have none or b) are not voting party members in the menu-planning decision process. In either case, kids are wont to eat a variety of overprocessed food that most adults find revoltingly unappetizing at best. I don't see many people around my office brown bagging Lunchable stackables or fruit Gushers, but you can bet their children would be psyched to gain some cafeteria cred from packing them.

For kids, novelty is a major factor in the appeal of any type of food. Taste and presentation are relegated to afterthoughts when effective marketing and cutesy cartoon mascotry are in play. To a child, a flavor vaguely reminiscent of sawdust and onionskins is a small price to pay; if the cartoon penguin tells you to do it, you do it. It's that simple.

Kid Cuisine debuted in 1990 as a niche product claiming to offer quick and easy kid-friendly meals. These prepackaged frozen dinners a la Lean Cuisine featured standard children's meal fare such as macaroni and cheese or chicken nuggets. In typical frozen meal fashion, Kid Cuisine consumers usually sacrificed flavor and taste for convenience. KC dinners were far from culinary masterpieces, but they were the lazy parent's and unskilled babysitter's saving grace at mealtime.



In their early days, however, ease was the primary redeeming quality of these questionable dinners. The compartmentalization of the microwave-safe trays was always sketchy if best, leading to less than savory results after heating. It was not uncommon to open the microwave door to a mysterious mishmash of food items overflowing from one pocket to the next. Even kids knew you weren't supposed to eat creamed corn on your brownie or mash green beans into your pizza. It simply isn't done.

Truthfully, the compartment crossover was not always such an issue; it's all part of the magic of each meal component tasting exactly the same. No matter what the dinner claimed to be on the outside packaging, the food always retained a taste markedly similar to the packaging it was nuked in. At the end of the day, pudding in your mac and cheese isn't so bad if it all has the same general flavor: mass-produced institutional. Yum.

To their credit, Kid Cuisines did come with a "Fun Pack," a small Cracker Jack prize-esque activity book filled with mini games or stickers. While the title "Fun Pack" may be slightly presumptuous, it did prove a popular addition to the frozen prepackaged food market. The only problem? These things come frozen. Those activity booklets were pretty chilly.

The meal's frozen nature also provided another dilemma: not all types of foods can and should be microwaved at the same level for the same amount of time. Kid Cuisine's one-size-fits-all approach meant that every item in the tray had to undergo the same degree of nukage. That meant a frozen corndog and a frozen Oreo got the same general heating treatment. Results? Major sogginess.



From a nutritional standpoint, these meals were far from well-balanced. To be fair, in the 90s the TV commercial version of a well-balanced breakfast included 2 eggs, toast, orange juice, bacon, potatoes, cereal, and milk, so maybe our portion perceptions were partially skewed. What passed Kid Cuisine quality inspector muster as side dishes would have made staunch starch enthusiasts blanch at the pure volume of complex carbohydrates per package. Even the most lenient and nutritionally ignorant of parents probably knew deep down that pasta, pudding, an Oreo, and some corn niblets does not a sound meal make.

Luckily, with the help of some lovable commercial mascots, kids will eat pretty much anything. Anthropomorphic penguin BJ and bear "The Chef" were more than eager to shove these calorie-laden celebrations of starch down our juvenile throats. I'd never considered myself endeared to BJ and The Chef until I learned they were more recently replaced with some ripoff penguin character, KC. Is nothing sacred? Who makes the food if there's no chef? Who, I ask you? It just doesn't add up.

Logic withstanding, someone (possibly replacement second-string penguin mascot KC) keeps churning out these meals. In case you were wondering, they are disgusting as ever. To save you from having to find out for yourself, here's an ad featuring KC and one of the most nutritionally questionable Kid Cuisine options yet: macaroni with squeezable cheese sauce topped off with a Fruit by the Foot knockoff. This is by no means current, but the product's downward spiral into deeper caloric jeopardy is amusing nonetheless. Enjoy.

Seinfeld

It's tough to gauge the implications for 90s pop culture when one of the decade's most popular sitcom had a premise entirely devoted to "nothing." What exactly does it mean that we in the 90s openly embraced nihilistic entertainment that indulged the minutiae of everyday life. At a time when most sitcoms focused on learning valuable and ultimately heartwarming family-friendly lessons, Seinfeld held its own stubbornly dedicated to a principle Jerry Seinfeld referred to as "no hugging, no learning." That is, there don't have to be happy endings; in fact, it's much funnier without them.

Seinfeld ran on NBC from 1989-1998, though much of its enduring popularity stems from widespread syndication. As children, many of us may have missed the subtle (read: not child-friendly) nuances of the show, but as grownups we have plentiful opportunities to reconnect with Jerry, George, Elaine, and Kramer--the show still airs two or three times a day in most US markets. It's a testament to the show's longevity that it still enjoys moderate rating popularity in syndication over a decade after the series finale.

While many shows fail to stand the test of time, the humor of Seinfeld transcends current cultural references. Its absurdity and complete lack of moral compass make it an enduring favorite. Apparently sociopathic neuroses never go out of style. Good to know, huh?

As a sitcom, Seinfeld had a unique skill for coinage and infiltration of popular culture. While the show's writers claim they did not generally set out to create memorable catchphrases, many popular episodes launched witty one-liners and phrases into our lexicon. There is something so eminently quotable about the show, it's tough to keep even the now-most overused of phrases from slipping into our everyday conversation. In fact, just the other day, I shook a woman's hand and immediately realized she had the definitive man-hands: I could practically see her tearing those lobster claws with those burly paws of hers. It just goes to show: without the handy aid of Seinfeld, we may never have morphed into the nit-picking, easily irritated mentally maladjusted individuals we are today.

While this single post can by no means offer a comprehensive list of Seinfeld catchphrase, below are a random sampling of Seinfeldisms. You're welcome to drop your own favorites in the comments section. If you're ever desperately in need of an overly fault-seeking critique or assessment of a trivial situation, look no further than these helpful words and phrases.


"Yada, Yada, Yada"



"Yada, Yada, Yada" serves as a handy means of glossing over potentially incriminating details in a story. In the case of a long and boring anecdote, yada-ing can also help get to the point before your audience loses all interest.


"Master of Your Domain"



In the Seinfeld episode "The Contest," George's mother catches him in a rather indelicate situation, prompting the group to speculate on who can last the longest without becoming, er, master of their domain. Allegedly the story is based on an actual experience of writer Larry David, which is either very funny or very disturbing depending on how you look at it.


"Low Talker" "Close Talker" "High Talker"



These unfortunate speech habits can lead to some pretty awkward situations--a "low talker," for example, might so quietly ask you to wear a puffy pirate shirt on network television that you fail to comprehend the request. Totally humiliating.


"No Soup for You!"



Possibly one of the most-quoted Seinfeld language, the so-called "Soup Nazi" was actually inspired by real New York soup shop owner Al Yegeneh, who was justifiably less than pleased with his portrayal on the show. True story notwithstanding, actor Larry Thomas plays a delightfully deadpan version of the temperamental soup vendor, expelling customers from his shop for the most minor indiscretions.


"These Pretzels are Making Me Thirsty!"



After landing a bit part in a Woody Allen film, Kramer delivers his totally unnecessary one-liner, "These pretzels are making me thirsty!" The line popped up in several subsequent episodes, serving as an interchangeable expression of annoyance and irritation.


Shrinkage



Poor George just can't catch a break; he seems forever destined to endure one soul-crushingly humiliating situation after another. Following a dip in the chilly water, George's female Hamptons housemate catches him changes and makes some rather cruel digs at what she saw, leading George to defend himself with the airtight "I was in the pool!" To get revenge, he tricks her to disobey religious dietary laws by eating lobster. Not a perfect revenge, but a satisfying one nonetheless.


"Double Dip"



Want to cause a scene at your girlfriend's aunt's funeral reception? Here's a foolproof trick: disgust everyone in attendance by dipping a chip, taking a bite, and then redipping the chip after mouth contact. Worked for George.


"Helloooooo"



In "The Voice," Jerry is faced with a crucial dilemma: he must choose between his attractive girlfriend and his oddly deep-voiced impression of what he imagines her stomach would sound like if it could talk. Truly a problem for the ages. To be fair, the voice is hilarious, but Jerry's girlfriend didn't see it that way. You've got to really love an impression to sacrifice love and affection for the privilege of bellowing, "HELLOOOOO!"


Art Vandalay



It's usually pretty helpful to have a fake name on hand for all situations that warrant it--a person you're meeting in a random office lobby, the employer you claim to be interviewing with, or an imaginary boyfriend or client. Just don't be upset if this pseudonym turns out to be not only a real person, but the judge in your controversial series finale trial. Believe me, it happens.

Indoor Play Places

For those of us who did not grow up in consistently temperate climates, our parents faced a serious conundrum: how to drain us of our boundless energy when the outdoor playgrounds were buried under six feet of snow or consumed by a mighty hurricane? Without the benefit of outside space with major running-around space capacity, it was difficult to sufficiently tire a kid out in time for naptime. What's an exhausted and weather-beaten parent to do?

Luckily, enterprising child-minded 90s entrepreneurs had the answer: indoor play places. In these colorful, kid-friendly enclosed playgrounds, masses of children had the opportunity to run wild to their hearts' collective content. Parents, by lucky virtue of their inability to fit in those constrictive plastic crawl tubes, were mercilessly spared and allowed to sit back and relax from the observation area. Overall, a win-win situation.

All it took was a quick removal of shoes to be stored in the play place cubbies and we were generally good to go. Crawling spaces, climbing ropes, ball pits, and slides awaited us at every visit, turning these indoor play spaces into popular venues for birthday parties and playdates. While their appeal waned in the late 90s and many chains merged and eventually filed for bankruptcy, I'd like to remember them as they were: chaotic, germ-ridden, and filled with screaming children. At least we have our memories.


Discovery Zone



For a brief period in the early-to-mid 90s, DZ play places were a major force, opening centers in cities across the US. These self-proclaimed "indoor fitness centers" for children boasted an array of climbing, swinging, and sliding apparatuses. Perhaps DZ got a bit greedy, as their haste in opening venue after venue left them in a relatively dire financial situation. In 1996, the company filed for bankruptcy, inspiring the more dominant Chuck E. Cheese to quickly gobble up DZ franchises. By the end of the decade, Discovery Zones were but a brief memory to most 90s children.

Despite their short-lived popularity, many of us still remember the colorful commercials and catchy jingles that impelled us to beg our parents for what we considered to be our right to Discovery Zone time. Though the company failed to live up to their self-generated hype over time, for a time their slogan was right on: "Where kids want to be." Or, perhaps more appropriately, "Where fed-up and exhausted parents want to bring them."


Chuck E. Cheese



Among the few free-standing play place chains to cross over to the new millennium, Chuck E. Cheese's aptly cheesy concept has served them well over the years. Despite the undeniably frightening full-size animatronic mouse music show accompanying their signature sit-down pizza meal, Chuck E. Cheese has enjoyed relative success in the children's entertainment industry for over 30 years. Aside from the standard climbing equipment and ball pits, the chain also featured a sizable arcade stocked with standard fare. You've got to commend their multi-faceted approach at entertaining young consumers, but those giant singing mice are essentially unforgivable. They will haunt your dreams.



McDonalds PlayPlace


Some of today's savvier and consumer-minded children may be appalled to know some of us actually held birthday parties at (gasp!) McDonalds, but back in the late 80s and early 90s the novelty of these indoor PlayPlaces made them an attractive venue for children's celebrations. The relative cheapness of McDonalds' PlayPlaces in comparison to stand-alone chains like Chuck E. Cheese lured in budget-conscious parents. We may not have known what was in the Chicken McNuggets (suspiciously not containing all-white meat chicken breasts until a few years ago, leading me to suspect they once potentially contained shoes and tire remnants) but we knew one thing: PlayPlaces are free, Chuck E. Cheese costs money. Done deal.


Leaps and Bounds


McDonalds Corp knew they couldn't give it all away for free though--especially not when they saw their PlayPlace competitors raking in the big bucks from their pay-for-play centers. In 1991, McDonalds opened the pilot "Leaps & Bounds" center in an 11,000 square foot strip mall space Naperville, IL. The experiment was short-lived--the chain merged with the now-defunct Discovery Zone a few years later--but it was fun while it lasted.


Circus Pizza/Showbiz Pizza



These chains were somehow linked to the Chuck E. Cheese empire, though my research skills are a bit too hazy (read:lazy) to tell you exactly how. They featured the same basic Chuck E. Cheese prototype: arcade, ball bit, climbing zone, pizza, freaky animatronic performers. In case your memory needs some dusting off, here's a brief refresher course in the terrifying singing puppets: they were called the Rock-afire Explosion and you can see them in all of their horrific glory in the video above. Watch at your own risk: those things are creepy.


These play places varied significantly by region, so I imagine many of you grew up with different chains. Feel free to wax poetic in the comments section about your favorite mangy ball pit or sandbox station. These centers were popping up everywhere in the 90s, sometimes in the least expected places. Here, I'll get things started: my personal favorite was my family's annual stop at Grand Casino Hinckley in Minnesota--it may not sound like much of a place for children, but they had the play place to trump all other small-town isolated casino play places. To this day when I enter a casino, my instinct is not to sit down at the blackjack table but rather to ask the concierge for directions to the on-site enclosed play place. Screw slot machines: I want crawling tubes.

Okay, now it's your turn. Knock yourself out. Not literally, though. We don't have a brain-cushioning ballpit or recycled-tire floor here to break your fall.