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The

Lunchables – the square, boring meal you probably went nuts for as a kid.

The idea to sell the food equivalent of an Ikea bookshelf came about in the 1980s, when Oscar Meyer was in something of a crisis – scientists were filling everyone’s heads with nonsense about “cholesterol” and “obesity,” and all of a sudden nobody wanted red meat anymore.

The company’s signature products – most of which could generously be described as “meat” – just weren’t selling. They needed a way to make slabs of bologna cool again, and they had just the way to do it.

A consultant named Bob Drane interviewed lots of working moms and found that they wished they had more time in the mornings. “What about squares,” he said, probably. “What if we put food in squares for the moms.”

And then Bob Drane became grotesquely rich.

Lunchables, which were briefly and hilariously marketed to adults, instantly took off as the go-to meal solution for kids who liked Lego so much they were willing to pretend their food didn’t taste like dog excrement if it meant they got to assemble it themselves.

Not for nothing, the original brainstorming session for what to call the cheese/ crackers/meat lunch included names like On-Trays, Crackerwiches, Mini Meals, Lunch Kits, Snackables, Square Meals, Walk Meals, Go-Packs and Fun Mealz. I believe it is a real tragedy that On-Trays did not get the attention it deserved, but hey, I’m not Bob Drane.

Of course, it wasn’t all sunshine and processed American cheese. Remember those scientists from earlier?

You won’t believe it, but researchers who concern themselves with such things as health had issues with Lunchables, too. Certain variations had nearly a whole day’s recommended maximum saturated fat for kids, up to twothirds of the maximum recommended sodium intake and 52 grams of sugar.

In The Extraordinary Science of Addictive Junk Food, essayist Michael Moss asked Former Philip Morris CEO Geoffrey Bible about his company’s shift toward more salt, sugar and fat in meals for kids. He acknowledged the criticism, and mentioned an article he had read that stated, “If you take Lunchables apart, the most healthy item in it is the napkin.” Now that’s bologna. Anyway, the product persevered – as Bible said, “That’s what the consumer wants, and we’re not putting a gun to their head to eat it.” – and now boasts new, horrible designs and names like Lunchables Uploaded (because of computers, of course), as well as, thankfully, low-fat options.

Lunchables is a success story that shows that with some imagination, smart marketing and mechanically separated animal products, you too can get rich feeding children things your family otherwise won’t eat.