Nostalgia Cooked
November 3rd, 2026
No. 19

“Hands, please”

I used to sneak Fruity Pebbles upstairs in a Yankees cup and call it a glass of milk. This week, I’m revisiting the snacks I thought were worth getting caught for, and why opening a bag can still put me right back in my babysitter’s kitchen. There’s also a fortune cookie story that starts in Japan and a suggestion for your next box of Kraft that I stand behind completely.

Coffee, then read on.

- Chef Tim

When I was six, I used to raid my babysitter’s cabinet for pizza-flavored Goldfish. The Flavor Blasted kind, with enough seasoning to leave evidence on every finger. I remember the cheesy coating and the tang of the pizza seasoning. I kept reaching into the bag before I’d finished chewing. Like Cheetos, they left my fingers covered in powder, which I considered part of the snack.

Most of my day belonged to adults. Someone else decided when I could eat and when my parents would pick me up. Finding my favorite bag of goodies in my babysitter’s old brown cabinets was a small thing I could look forward to without having to figure anything out. I still appreciate that feeling.

Goldfish had been around long before I found them. Pepperidge Farm introduced them to the United States in 1962. They were originally created in Switzerland in 1958 as a gift for a company founder’s wife. Now, one town in Willard, Ohio makes 50 million Goldfish every single day. They added the smiley face in 1997 and about 40% of Goldfish have one because they don’t want to make the snack too childish.

Food comforts me, especially when everything else feels uncertain. But recreating a favorite meal can be frustrating. Someone’s meatballs might taste different every time you try to make them. You can follow the recipe and still wonder what’s missing. Maybe they never measured the garlic. Maybe eating at their table had something to do with it. With Goldfish, I can open a bag and get reasonably close to what I remember.

The snack aisle still holds so much of what I ate growing up in the 2000s. I remember Dunkaroos and Hot Fries. Those little ice cream cups came with wooden spoons that had a taste of their own. Sometimes I don’t even have to take a bite.

Opening a bag of Fruity Pebbles takes me to the edge of my bed in sixth grade. I used to fill a Yankees souvenir cup with milk and announce that I was just getting a glass of milk. Then I’d sneak the cereal upstairs and eat it in my room. The smell brings back that particular scene before I’ve poured anything. I’m sitting on the bed again, really proud of myself with a plan that depended on nobody noticing the cereal…

Smells can trigger vivid, lasting memories. For me, the texture of a snack can do it too. Cheese powder on my fingers brings back a different room. Even seeing the boxes can bring me to a different place.

The people who developed these foods have made a lasting legacy. Something they worked on decades ago became part of an afternoon I still remember. Someone else opens the same cereal and remembers a completely different kitchen. There are good reasons to question these foods. In a small NIH trial, adults ate more calories and gained weight on an ultra-processed diet. My affection for Goldfish doesn’t settle the concerns about what we feed the youth of today.

I do remember being a kid whose days felt unfamiliar, and how much comfort I found in knowing what something would taste like. I hope kids now have snacks they’ll remember that way, with better nutrition than some of mine offered. Something they’re happy to find in the cabinet after a difficult day. I’d like them to have that feeling.

Before service, the whole crew huddles up and someone tells the story behind the food. Pull up a crate, you’re on the line tonight.

Did you think fortune cookies came from eighteenth-century China? Their American story begins in early-1900s California. Their roots go back to Japan.

Japanese crackers called tsujiura senbei contained paper fortunes long before Americans started cracking open cookies after takeout. Researcher Yasuko Nakamachi found an 1878 illustration showing an apprentice making them. Those crackers were larger and darker than the cookies we know, flavored with sesame and miso. The fortune sat tucked into the outer fold.

Who made the first American fortune cookie is still disputed. One account points to the Japanese Tea Garden in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park, which sourced its cookies from a local Japanese bakery called Benkyodo. Japanese immigrants ran restaurants serving Chinese food, also bringing fortune cookies onto those tables.

The connection changed during World War II, when the U.S. government forcibly incarcerated Japanese Americans and uprooted their businesses. Journalist Jennifer 8. Lee describes this period as the turning point when fortune cookies became more closely associated with Chinese restaurants.

At the Golden Gate Fortune Cookie Factory in San Francisco’s Chinatown, you can still watch workers make them by hand. The factory opened in 1962. Thin wafers bake on a rotating copper griddle, then workers insert the fortunes and fold the cookies while they’re warm. The shop says it makes up to 10,000 cookies daily, depending on the season.

And they don’t all taste the same. Alongside vanilla, the factory makes chocolate and strawberry versions. You can even buy the flat, unfolded wafers without a fortune. The shop suggests putting them on ice cream.

I’m pairing Goldfish with a dry apple cider this week. The tart apple cuts through the cheddar, and the bubbles keep me reaching into the bag. I like a cider with a little bite here. Goldfish already have that mild sweetness under the salt, so a sweeter cider can get a bit much after a few handfuls.

Pour it cold and leave the bag within reach. I know “sit.” I know “stay.” “Leave it” gets a little fuzzy when there’s cheddar involved.

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