“Moulding Surprise” was a stomach-churning concoction of pasta, ketchup, shredded cheese, vinegar, and spices. It probably had other ingredients, too, but I can’t remember anymore. Though I never sampled the dish (which was named for the inventive missionary, not for the British spelling of “molding”), several of my companions ate it regularly.<\/p>\n
The mention<\/a> of Jim’s “Philosophy of Food” course and Greg’s link to “an appreciation of a man who has fed thousands of missionaries<\/a>” (i.e., the “ramen noodle guy”) has caused me to reflect on missionary food. We had other, more appetizing, traditions than Moulding Surprise in Austria. For breakfast, we made our own muesli, which we smothered in yogurt. Or, on days when we needed a hot breakfast, I would prepare Grie\u00c3\u0178<\/em> (cream of wheat) or Haferflocken<\/em> (oatmeal) with cream and honey.<\/p>\n For lunch, we were usually away from the apartment, and we often stopped by a local grocery store, where we could order a sandwich to go. This was great fun for a boy from Osseo, Wisconsin who had never seen a deli. The bread was a Semmel<\/em> (aka “Br\u00c3\u00b6tchen<\/a>“), and we selected the meat and cheese from a vast array, sliced to order. The mustard in Austria was nothing like that yellow stuff of my youth, and I have never been satisfied with French’s since my mission. On many days, I drank 500 grams of yogurt to wash the sandwich down, then finished the meal by eating a Milka chocolate bar.<\/p>\n