In my column this week, I pit slumgullion against Hamburger Helper to see which one does a housewife armed with a pound of ground beef proud. Considering the United States is tumbling into recession, it's perfect timing! After all, Hamburger Helper is only about a dollar a box.
Those RoTel tomatoes are rockin' hot. This was the first time I tried them (they always seemed weird to me). Now I'm going to put them in everything we eat.
Although many recipes called for macaroni, I used old potatoes with lots of gnarly eyes for the slumgullion. Just about every recipe I found was different. The scariest one used canned corned beef and bacon as the main ingredients. Read "RainSpirit's" entry about halfway down the page on this thread for the complete recipe. That said, I must admit that I'd like nothing better than to plop down with RainSpirit and dig into a plate of his Gramp's slumgullion. That guy's got a lot of heart.
Look at how shitty the Hamburger Helper looked in the pan.
"Rich Brown" costs 50 cents for a box of eight packets at the local discount grocery. This darling concoction of MSG, maltodextrin, onion powder, caramel color, spices, disodium guanylate and disodium inosinate "is a delicious broth and a seasoning that brings out the best in food flavors" according to the box.
I just had to sprinkle some into the slumgullion.
Left to right: Cheeseburger Macaroni Hamburger Helper ("Naturally Flavored Pasta & Cheesy Sauce Mix") made according to the instructions on the box; and Erin's slumgullion.
Several blobs of powdered "Cheesy Sauce Mix" failed to transform into anything but gross bombs in the Hamburger Helper. I'd list the Hamburger Helper ingredients, but it's just too damn terrifying. I'll bet Betty Crocker never even ate this shit.
The Goat enjoyed his meal along with a $3.29 bottle of Matthew Fox's finest.
I had to resist the urge to dump a can of chili beans in the slumgullion. It would have given it an unfair advantage as chili beans improve any ground beef dish and the Hamburger Helper needed all the help it could get. Turns out that the slumgullion didn't even need no stinkin' beans--I loved it and will be making it again soon.
I recommend that everyone try this fabulous dish. If for no other reason, you'll love the satisfaction you'll get by saying "Eat your slumgullion," to your kid.