"...the custard was in the vats, not the dinner ladies, although I fear it would have been hard to taste the difference."
This is one of the funniest things I have read in a long time.
Anyway, mine is cube steak. I can barely describe this pucky meat because I've supressed the memories so thoroughly. (Thanks for helping me dredge that one up, Max.) All I can remember is that my older brother (the oldest kid) liked it, or said he said (suck up!), so we ate it alot. I'm sure my parents found that very convenient because it was the cheapest meat in the store, even cheaper than the imitation cube steak which sat right next to it.
Making matters worse is how it was cooked. Low grade cuts of meat have their place if prepared well, but wow, my mother must have been in a hurry every night we ate it.
Yes. He was apparently well versed at tapping communications systems amongst other things on both sides of the border.
One of the stories he passed on to me involved an employee at a coffee shop in Frankfurt, Germany. This was a place were US servicemen hung out, and the employee would crawl into the heating duct work to listen for any useful tidbits that he could sell.
My dad and the guys he was working with got wind of it, so they bolted a giant loudspeaker to the duct. Next time the guy was up in the ductwork, they turned it on, blasted his eardrums, and laughed as the guy bounced up and down trying to get out as fast as he could.
Max, re: "@Duane: ...I have been forced to consume condensed milk and canned oysters...
I can't recall if I ever asked you -- who came up with this one? It wasn't another one of your mother's "experiments" was it?"
Well, my dad was a bit of a spy during the cold war and spent some time undercover in East Germany. I can only presume that he was captured and, as a condition of his release, was forced to take the recipe for this concoction home to my mom as a form of pre-torture to discourage me from following in his footsteps.