Food has changed a great deal since my childhood, and some of the items we were served are not greatly missed. Perhaps one of the least regretted food groups is the jello salad. In my youth this concoction was guaranteed to be found at any potluck, any church supper, any family reunion or on any dinner table. It consisted of jello with additions that ranged from the passable to what-were-they-thinking. In the latter category was a jello salad in which floated shaved carrots and raisins, not always a good textural combination, and especially bad when the carrots and raisins were found floating in a cherry flavored jello.
This gelatinous salad could be presented in two ways: in individual molds or in one giant circular mold, both with fluted indentations. It was easy to get the jello into a mold, but the real trick came in getting it out again. The mold was sunk quickly in hot water, enough to loosen the edges of the salad from the container so that it could be plopped onto a plate or a bed of lettuce. But if one did not time the hot water move exactly, the molded salad would begin to drip around the sides. Not one of the cook’s better moments.
I do not know when this kind of salad began to sink into oblivion, but as with all extinctions it began slowly and then quietly disappeared without a trace. When I was married in 1965, I was given a cookbook from Better Homes and Gardens dedicated entirely to the infamous jello salad. The only recipe I can remember now, was a bright green concoction that held within it pistachio nuts and celery. It was called a “Symphony in Green,” which probably more aptly described the color of the person presented with this delectation than the salad itself.
I served a jello salad for a number of years at Thanksgiving that had cranberries, bananas and nuts in it. While I enjoyed it, my children’s salad plates were still notably full at the close of the meal. A sign of the future. While discussing this menu item from our youth with a friend of my generation, my grandson who was listening in, first looked incredulous and then gave the vanished epicurean delight its final epitaph ……”Yuck.”