In Maine in the summer a Depression era treat still makes the rounds, a sliced tomato sandwich with a wee bit of mayo on the cheapest bread available. Yum. Sort of. I did not grow up during the Depression, but felt like it since the folks were the two most depressing people I've ever met. My mom used to ball up newspapers and stick them in the oven and tell is they were baked potatoes and that they were better than the neighbors' because they had vitamins, minerals AND you got the day's news. In my 20s l was big into all fruit meals, cherries mostly, served chilled in a conical tumbler doused with whiskey and vermouth (big in Manhattan). Dessert, a couple of Chesterfields. In the Fall up here nowadays I go meatless for a few weeks because the raccoons aren't running and I'm pretty well greased out by then anyhow.
Different upbringing, but both parents were brutally scarred by the Depression, which was, basically, the leitmotif of my upbringing - "we lost the house, we're glad to have any food, you lived in fear of being on the street, you couldn't find any work, my father's spirit was broken and never recovered, we moved into a tenement and we're happy to have a roof over our heads, we couldn't afford the surgery for his knee, which is why your uncle has a limp to this day, a nickel was a lot of money..." - cheery it wasn't.
My father talked about "shadow" sandwiches - tomato and margarine or potatoes and margarine on white bread - or any non-meat, non-cheese sandwich - as in, "we lived on 'shadow' sandwiches for years...."
He's been dead over 25 years and I was born almost three decades after it ended, but not a day of my life goes by when I don't think about the Depression in some manner.