What's for Dinner?

My nephew once came back from a neighbor's house all excited about the beef stroganoff he'd had for dinner. Since he tends not to like new foods, his mother asked the neighbor for the recipe. When she made and served the dish, my nephew blurted out, "This is horrible! It's nothing like what I had at their house." His mother called the neighbor to see if she'd made a mistake—at which point the neighbor admitted that what the family had actually eaten was Hamburger Helper beef stroganoff.

She had been too embarrassed to confess the truth the first time around. Let me cheer that neighbor up by admitting that I, too, keep Hamburger Helper in the house. I like Hamburger Helper. I also hate myself for liking it. It's the same with all the convenience foods I buy. Nothing is more embarrassing in the checkout line than a neon-red bag ...