How the "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous" inspired me to make my childhood struggle meal gourmet

People in the trenches deserve gourmet food, too. I fully believe that, and that belief is the reason why a 13-year-old me — living, loving, and surviving in severe American poverty — once played around with some ingredients in the kitchen and created one of the fanciest struggle meals of all time. 

I must admit, I did not care for Nissin Oodles of Noodles or Top Ramen initially. I discovered them back when I was about six years old, in the house with an older cousin who was about nine, and we were starving. Not grumbling, belly-hungry — but "stomach touching your back, every rib visible, aching, and balled up on the floor in the corner" starving. The refrigerator held a couple of eggs, a half-eaten hot dog from the Civil Rights era, a couple of boxes of baking soda, and some ice packs in classic cookout condiments like ketchup, mustard, hot sauce, and relish. 

And in the cabinet, there was cereal, but no milk, and a bunch of packs of Top Ramen. 

"Yo, I'm gonna go outside and make some money," my cousin said, heading toward the front door, "I'll bring us back some mozzarella sticks, a pizza, or something." 

"What time my mother coming back?" I yelled in his direction, but too late. He was gone.

I paced back and forth, with a pain inside my body that felt like it was eating itself, so I had to do something. Using the countertop to pull myself up to the cabinets, I was able to balance and explore the available options because maybe, just maybe, my cousin missed something. He didn't. Defeated, I snatched a packet of ramen and leaped back onto the floor, landing like Spider-Man. I saw my mother cooking Top Ramen before. I was never really interested –– probably because she boiled the noodles in the seasoning and slammed those dry noodles onto my paper plate with a splat! Dry seasoned noodles are about as interesting as rearranging a sock drawer. But these were desperate times and called for desperate actions. 

So, I ripped the pack open and bit into the dry crunchy noodles that quickly pasted up inside of my mouth. It was a chunky bland glob. I didn't choke. I almost choked, but I didn't –– I just ripped into the packet of season and sucked the salty imitation beef flavor out. 

I repeated this over and over again, until all of the seasoning was gone and about half of the noodles remained. 

"Raw noodles, yo? You a real animal, savage," my cousin laughed, holding a bag of hot food at the front door, "Any room left for some mozzarella sticks?"  

"Of course!" 

Two years later, I regularly made French toast, grilled cheese, and fried eggs. I also saw a television show called "The Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous." It was hosted by this guy with a rich voice named Robin Leach–– and I can't say that I took away many valuable lessons from the program other than the fact that anything could be better. We all need homes, but bigger homes full of toys provide a better living experience; everyone needs a toilet, but toilet seats could be golden, which I didn't understand, and still don't –– or those seats could have a generous extra amount of cushioning, which is obviously more understandable. 

I learned that mom's dried seasoned noodles, and my own sucking the pack of flavor approach, was unacceptable and could be better. 

So, the first thing I did was properly prepare the noodles. Ramen needs broth, a delicious salty fluid in which to suspend the noodles. This one simple fix instantly made me a fan, but understanding how luxury works committed me to noodles for life, because I did not have to just stop at the broth. I chopped and added onions, and the dish was better. I added hot sauce, and the dish was better; I saw the Korean dude enjoy his noodles with a boiled egg at the corner store near my house, so I added a boiled egg, and the dish was better. Pretty soon, onions, hot sauce, and a boiled egg were necessary for enjoying the dish–– but when I started cooking chicken, shrimp (or both!) in cast iron to add to my ramen, my struggle meal became gourmet. 

It was a staple well into middle school and high school, all the way up until I discovered pho spots, which are also inexpensive and typically delicious. I mean, how many times can you say you went to a pho spot and it was terrible? The answer for me is zero and I eat it religiously. 

So, here's what I put in my Top Ramen.