RIP Schwan's

We had Schwan's in Microville.

 

I'd seen them in Mississippi within the past 20 years.

 

I saw them every now and again in the South, but did not know any customers.

This feels a little like Sears with catalogues or Blockbuster with home entertainment. They had a category right there for the taking if they could have just stretched their imagination outside of “This is how we do things.”

 

You’re also describing the newspaper business there.

 

Angry upvote, as the kids on Reddit would say.

 

My family used to drive 10 hours one way up to northern Minnesota to go on vacations at the family cabin. Rural territory. 30 minutes to the closest 1-stoplight town.
That Schwan’s truck rolled in once a week and provided us with a shitload of cherry ice cream. My grandma was never happier…

 

My uncle has worked for Schwan's for 25 years in their main town of Marshall, Minnesota. And still does. Lot of frozen food stuff (Red Baron!). They were sold to a Korean company few years ago so much of the company still survives with that. The family kept the home delivery stuff for a few years, changed the name, but probably never had a chance.

This Reddit comment explains it pretty well:

 

That too sounds like the media industry.

 

Also Northeast born and raised, and I honestly had never heard of it until my sister-in-law sent us a Schwan’s delivery when our son was born.

We loved it so much that it became our go-to gift for everyone else we knew after their babies were born.

I remember the pot pies being really top-notch.

 

My mom had Schwan's delivery when I was a kid. Yellow truck would drop by once every other week or so we'd get a box of the chicken marco polos and a couple of other things. You'd think with the rampant laziness of this country, home food delivery would be a no brainer. Yeah, it wasn't cheap but have you Doordashed a Chick fil A order lately? That isn't, either.

 

The chicken pot pie was family-size with large pieces of white meat, identifiable fresh-tasting vegetables under a flaky crust. They were nothing like the individual Swanson, and even worse off-brand pies, where bits of chicken from the killing room floor and gray vegetables were hidden in a lackluster crust. I used to eat the cheap ones in college when I decided to “cook” because ramen was just exotic for my then world. When Mom first said we were having pot pie for supper I was skeptical, but they quickly became one of my Schwan’s favorites.