WHERE I COME FROM, the word “salad” means lettuce. Perhaps that lettuce will be accompanied by onions, tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, crumbled cheese, or all of the above, but lettuce—and I believe I speak for all my homepeople when I say this—would be the foundation of all things “salad.” And, being a New Yorker, I went along thinking my way was the highway until fate stepped in and threw a man in my path some 23 years ago who, when he said “salad,” was speaking a different tongue. So we got married, and mixed things up.
The culinary has always been a great curiosity in my marriage. It still is, though never more so than at the beginning of the union. Leaving my safety/comfort zone for my first foray into my husband’s homeland and driving to Indiana many years ago, I was confronted at a Bob’s Big Boy with something known as white gravy. On biscuits. For breakfast. Where was the bagel with a schmeer, I wondered? (Where, for that matter, were the delis?) My father-in-law, accompanying us on this trip, sighed the sigh of gustable repatriation when the waitress plunked down the plate of biscuits and gravy. Having been east just long enough, it seemed, his sigh had all the satisfaction of a man who’d come home.
We were then driving west to memorialize Lillian, my mother-in-law, whose recipe boxes I’ve written about before. That would be the unforgettable Lillian of the Hart Family Round-Robin newsletter, and it was on my return trip that I’d be carrying with me an inherited recipe box, though not before my lexicon of cooking got a good shaking up.
Planning her memorial service, though painful, was lightened by the family patterns of grieving. There were prescribed ways to do things, and that helped. My father-in-law was a pastor, so is his brother, as are what seemed me to be an inordinate number of family members, both male and female, young and old, so things went pretty much by the prayer book.
How could I help? At the reception following the service, I was asked to man the door and accept the food that would inevitably be delivered. Those bearing the meal would be what my Hoosier father-in-law termed the “widdaladies,” an endearment I untangled some hours later to mean the “widow ladies.” I was told they’d bring salads.
How nice, I thought. How healthy. Though how many green salads could one party possibly need?
And then the doorbell rang and an indelible image, still seared into my brain, appeared: A lasagna pan of jiggling mini-marshmallows and mandarin oranges suspended in red Jell-O. Somewhere under it, no doubt, was a pair of feet in sensible shoes, though I have no memory of those, recalling only that a side-bowl of mayonnaise was thrust into my hands.
And the doorbell rings. Again, an enormous glass pan, this time green, in which was floating ham chunks and diced pineapple. Again, I was handed the mayonnaise.
Two bowls of mayo held aloft, I floated into the crowd.
“What is this?” I think is what I asked my new husband.
“It’s salad, sweetheart,” he said in that comforting way people do when they mistake what you are feeling for something as normal as grief.
Really? Well, then I’m a peeled cucumber.
And the doorbell rings.
“No, no. Let me. Please,” I said, handing the mayo bowls to him.
An enormous platter was set before my eyes on which wiggled a veritable tower of orange Jell-O, pocked with cherries. I put my hand out for the mayo I now thought traveled with this dish like salt with pepper.
Nothing.
“Mayo?” I asked.
The woman viewed me suspiciously, and then the light of recognition went off. Oh, yes, it seemed to register, this is the New York daughter-in-law. I think she patted my hand.
“Where would you like this?” I asked.
“On the dessert table.”
I see. No mayo if it’s dessert. Mayo with entrée Jell-O only. I get it.
Doorbell. A layered, tri-color veritable rainbow of stacked wobbly gelatin stood before me. Oh thank God, I remember thinking. The gay community is here.
Nope: This is the palate-cleanser Jell-O, the in between entrée and dessert course. No, you might ask. There is no mayo with this. This comes with shredded carrots suspended in the tower, under it, and around the sides, providing not merely a jolting color combo, but some roughage.
A few days later we were en route home when I opened that recipe box for the first time, immediately flipping to the tab marked “Salads.” The key, I figured, the Rossetta Stone awaited me, until I discovered that the main ingredient in “Mandarin Orange Salad” was Lemon Jell-O; “Christmas Salad” necessitates lime Jell-O; “Strawberry Salad” needs black cherry Jell-O, and “Rhubarb Salad” calls for strawberry Jell-O.
Apparently my salad days were just beginning.
Diane says
This is wonderful!
When my husband and I were in school in Indiana we played scrabble once a week with our friend Tim, whom we called “Grandma” on account of his decorating inclinations and menues. Following his mother’s tradition, he reminded us every week that he “always liked to serve something with Dreamwhip”.
And all this time I thought it was only Tim’s family!
David Janower says
This is great (as always). I remember my year in North Carolina. No delis, lots of white gravy and biscuits. I LOVED the nearby Biscuitville. I also remember the first family reunion on my mother-in-law’s side that I attended, in rural Virginia. EVERYONE brought fried chicken and jello salad of one color or another.
Shirley says
What a lovely essay! So light and witty–like jello with Dreamwhip–but sprinkled with thoughtful roughage also. My favorite kind of tone. I think you found all the salad allusions that exist. Great ending.
I spent 34 years in the Midwest, and I’m also Mennonite, which means lots of pot-luck meals. The jello salads have been waning since the ’70’s at pot-lucks I’ve attended, but they used to have a section all their own.
In my last blog post I wrote about recipes from my grandmother. And I will have one whole chapter in my memoir about food. You’ve inspired me with this essay. Thanks!
Myrna says
Green jello with carrots was a staple at all family occasions. My Mom’s best dessert is Angel Food cake with strawberry jello poured over it, filled with fresh strawberries and garnished with the same. I am from a little town north of Chicago, called Waukegan ( home of Ray Bradbury and Jack Benny). I was wondering if any of the jello salads arrived in a “jello” mold? I have one in my kitchen that I pull out for the Raspberry Holiday” mold. Jello is like home to me. My husband, who is from Brooklyn, NY has never been able to comprehend the carrots in the jello. We laugh about it, whenever we land on the topic of my home town delicacies.
Bobby says
Although not from the Midwest, but raised by a mom who was, Jello was an important food group. It seemed to be important EVERY DAY. Once on my own, I was positive I would never have to lift a spoon with same, ever again. Wrong.
Seems the man from LA, with whom I share my life, told me some 30 years ago about his love of Jello. Strawberry to be specific. The gay factor here: generous portion of whipped heavy cream. No boundaries, I guess. Salad, anyone?
lynne wighton says
Shirley said it all Marion. But, I’m with you…salad has something green in it that actually “grows” and Jello-O is either for when one is sick or used to make Trifle which Myrna starts to describe–pound cake, angel food cake, or lady fingers soaked in strawberry banana jello mixed with thawed frozen strawberries, topped with a layer of banana pudding, then cool whip with maraschino cherries or fresh strawberries placed on top. Of course many people also soak the cake layer with rum. Great easy dessert my aunt usually made for after a heavy holiday meal.
The food traditions I’ve encountered in the south are a subject for a whole blog post…including white gravy and fried pickles!
Myrna says
Wow Lynne, “Trifle” sounds fabulous!
lynne wighton says
Myrna, it is! even I can make it! secret that I forgot to mention is to use the liquid from the thawed strawberries. So, if the jello needs a cup of water and you have 1/2 a cup of strawberry liquid, use that plus 1/2 cup of water to make the jello. when the jello is cool liquid has cooled in the fridge, then pour it over the cake layer, let that set, then add pudding and cool whip or whipped cream layer. I like bananas and strawberries, but of course you can alter this for any other fruits you like.
Darcy Downie says
Actually, sausage gravy (this is the white gravy with an added treat) is what is generally served. As meat goes in Indiana, pork is the way to go. There is nothing quite as good as a deep fried pork tenderloin sandwich. I think I was about 25 before I learned what real pork tenderloin was, and one doesn’t deep fry it. Love the lime jell-o with carrots!
Dorothy says
This was a big chuckle. Loved it, especially since I remember well all the jello/gelatin based items from the past. There was even a fish-shaped mold for the—parson the expression—salmon in aspic or some such.
My kids’ favorite was sliced pineapple surrounded by lime jello (made with half the water), all unmolded from the pineapple can and then sliced.
marion says
Hi, all. I am so glad you laughed your way through the Jell-O.
It took me a while to find the whole family menu funny, but now I surely do.
Do keep your eyes peeled and your ears pricked for more family cooking tales. I do love them so.
And come back soon.