The chronicles of cold cereal

Bertha is not necessarily well-known for her inclination to discuss the weightier matters. In fact that word you have been hearing so much lately—frivolous—is probably more on the mark.

One of those charming and frivolous products that deserves discussion though, is that breakfast food known as cold cereal which is so characteristic of the American cultural scene, which scene by the way is disappearing rapidly and needs to be preserved.

So, Cheerios, Wheaties and Corn Flakes are older than I am. They were the breakfast of everyone, champions or losers, back in the in the 40s when I was part of the cereal generation.

Excluding oatmeal, I suppose, Corn Flakes is arguably the mother of them all and was “discovered” by John Harvey Kellogg when he was busy making bland food for the patients at his health spa. He hoped the bland food would have a calming effect on some of his patients.. He accidentally overcooked a batch of corn “stuff” which turned it into flakes instead of sheets. (I can only imagine sheets.) Not wanting to throw them out, he served them to the patients, who, interestingly, preferred flakes to sheets. And that was the last time that cereal was thought to have a calming effect on anyone. So cereal came to have historical, if not nutritional or intrinsic value.

Fast forward a couple hundred years from now, though, to when archaeologists excavate certain buildings belonging to this decade. They will no doubt proclaim that little round “O’s (are there any other kind?) must have had religious significance and therefore intrinsic value back then, uh now.

During the 70s when I was raising kids, cereal was the quintessential junk food. There was a national uproar over the lack of food value in something that was used to feed seventy percent of the country’s kids who were just on their way out the door to catch the school bus; in spite of the fact that cold cereal was single-handedly responsible for helping all of those children not miss the bus and therefore morning arithmetic.

But wait, that was back when this country was way ahead of the rest of the world in all of the smart indices. Do you suppose there is a direct correlation between eating junk food and intellect? Well, maybe not. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what tastes better.

Well, that decade may have been the beginning of the socialization of cereal. Someone made the manufacturers put all of the natural nutrients and fibers back into the cereal and take the sugar out. And thus the dumbing down of American school children had begun.

Thanks to some good PR, cereal’s reputation is of late considerably improved. The PR blitzes began way before this however. The industry long ago began to market their product to kids. There are the leprechaun/elf-based marketing strategies which are some of the oldest due to the fact that fairies are immortal. And there are the animal mascot approaches, some of which feature kid-friendly tigers, rabbits and roosters which are septuagenarians. And there are the all-American athlete angles. Willie Mays used to grace a box of Wheaties back in the day.

And alternatively then and now there are the mothers who are desperately trying to maintain control over the contents of the shopping cart. As early as the 70’s cereal had become a method of advancing one’s social status. Children wanted the flashy, colorful, expensively packaged kinds which they ate while they wore their Calvin Klein or Jordache jeans. Cereal boxes and jeans are alike that way sometimes. What goes into them is sometimes worth less than the packaging.

As for me and Mr. B. we have arrived at the age, in this decade, where the only cereals under consideration reside on the top row of the cereal aisle. That makes sense if your marketing target is kids. However, we grew out of our jeans and flashy cereals some time ago. But it is unfortunate that we practically have to get a chair to view the top row of cereal boxes through our bifocals. And we can barely read the nutrition facts at all.

While sitting at the kitchen table reading the cereal box the other day though, I was amused to see, in big letters, that I had bought “Granola—without raisins.”