Friends with Hot Pockets.

How growing up in an "Ingredient Household" versus a "Hot Pocket Household" can impact your decision-making.

The other day, I was minding my own business in our office kitchen when I heard a rustling and crunching that—if I didn’t know any better—I would assume was from a forest animal foraging for nuts and leaves before hibernation. I turned around to find not a squirrel, but my boss—seated contentedly at the communal table, artfully layering pieces of cheese and crushed ruffled potato chips between slices of deli meat. A delicacy, if you ask me.

After a moment of watching her assemble a bite, I asked, “Did you grow up in an “Ingredient Household”?”

Amy replied in shock, “How did you know?!”

Truth is, I clocked it immediately because I, too, grew up in an Ingredient Household—both her lunch and her method of assembly looked all too familiar to me. Some of you might know exactly what I’m talking about, but if you don’t, allow me to explain. An Ingredient Household is basically what it sounds like—a home where meals or snacks only exist if you get creative and combine ingredients together. No ready-made, heat-and-eat foods in sight. Those of you reading this who know exactly what I’m talking about likely also know how exotically thrilling it was to go to your friend’s house and indulge in Totino’s Pizza Rolls—or better yet, Hot Pockets. The sheer convenience of being able to just pop some iteration of an inverted pizza into the microwave for 90 seconds was exhilarating, and everyone knows that food tastes better when it’s not your own. Just facts.

Now, I will say that there seems to be a negative connotation online surrounding ingredient households—but make no mistake, I was eating good. My dream after-school scenario was getting to skip ballet class, watch MTV in the living room (if I was lucky, an episode of Ridiculousness was on), and make my go-to snack:

Two pieces of white bread dressed with mayo and a dash of yellow mustard, Kraft American Cheese (this is very important), and thinly sliced red onion. With a side of croutons. And a handful of semi-sweet chocolate chips out of the freezer. Just trust me, you had to be there to get it.

Over the next few days, the topic of an Ingredient Household kept coming up in conversation—Amy and I would swap snack recipes (an alarming number involved red onion in some form…we can unpack this similarity at another time) and reminisce on girl dinner before Girl Dinner was a trendy internet thing. The further we trailed down this rabbit hole, the more it became clear there might be a direct connection between Ingredient vs. Hot Pockets households, and the relationships that we have with our wardrobes.

Humor my logic here for a minute. When you’re ingredient-minded, your vision is primed to scavenge for parts that fit together to make a whole. You’re strategically stocking up on items that you know will serve more than one purpose: eggs, milk, flour, bread, croutons - Karo syrup in Amy’s case…the possibilities are endless here. You have all the base ingredients, making it so that when you find a jar of zesty pickles and salami slices that were tucked away in the fridge, you can create something interesting. It forces you to be more scrappy than you’d need to be if you had a boxed Stouffer’s lasagna ready to roll in the freezer. You become creative enough in your thinking that you can find a way to satisfy your cravings using what you have, maybe tossing in a little pizzazz here or there when it makes sense.

On the flip, if you get hungry and you know that you have a sleeve of Hot Pockets in your freezer, the thinking stops there. Open the sleeve, microwave, done and dusted. And as delicious as those greasy little atrocities are, you can’t swap out a few of the ingredients and be on your merry way if you’re suddenly craving a chicken pot pie. And, by the way, odds are you won’t want to eat a Hot Pocket for every meal (unless you were me in the 8th grade).

Now replace the word Hot Pockets with the word Outfits.

If you’re getting dressed, and you know that you have an Outfit (and by Outfit with a capital O, I mean a specific outfit that you shopped for, to be worn together) in your closet, the thinking stops there. Open the closet door, get dressed, done and dusted. And as great as you might look, you might find it difficult to swap out a few pieces if you’re suddenly craving to feel more modern instead of preppy. And, by the way, odds are you won’t want to wear that Outfit every day.

I think so many of us have been taught to shop for clothing the same way that we shop for groceries—and if you grew up accustomed to collecting ingredients, my hypothesis would suggest that you might likely shop for your clothing the same way. Suddenly eggs, bread, milk, and flour are a pair of jeans that you can wear anywhere, the perfect white t-shirt, a great bomber jacket, and a sleek shoe—separately, they’re just ingredients…but when combined with spices and condiments (i.e., a good earring, a lace slip skirt, a Ring 4 knit), you can really create an interesting moment.

I’m curious if we have any readers here that grew up in a Hot Pocket household and have found themselves shopping for Outfits rather than wardrobe ingredients. Or—maybe you were so traumatized by having to offer your friends a mixture of grapenuts, syrup and raisins that you’ve vowed that once you gained any type of independent income you’d never scrounge and create with ingredients again. At this point, you know I love some good discourse, so drop your thoughts in the comments. I’d love to test this theory out a bit.