Many years ago, while on a client visit to State Farm in Bloomington, IL, I had lunch in the State Farm caf. While I didn't convey any of this to our client, I was naturally (and snobbily) cracked up by the fact that there were multiple types of jello* mold on offer for dessert.
In truth, although I haven't had any in years - probably since my mother died, and that's 21 years ago - I have to admit that I've always been pretty darned fond of jello molds, and my mother made some pretty darned tasty ones.
My all-time favorite was Waldorf Salad Jello Mold which combined chopped up apples, walnuts, and celery in apple jello. This she made every Thanksgiving.
Once Jell-o stopped making apple jello (or the Morris Market stopped carrying it), my mother tried using lime, which didn't quite make it. So she switched to another mold. Strawberries, green grapes, and walnuts in black raspberry. When demolded, she frosted the mold with sour cream. It was another winner.
For Easter, the standard offering was orange jello with pineapple and shredded carrots. Don't knock it if you haven't tried it.
My mother didn't have a fancy jello mold, not one of those fancy crown-ish ones that used to be shown on the Royal Gelatin box. No, hers was just a plain round aluminum mold. Which I thought I had hung on to, but which I must have pitched. (I still have her Dutch oven, even though it doesn't work on my induction cooktop.)
My father had a sweet tooth, so we always had dessert after supper. Although she wasn't a sweet-eater, my mother was an excellent scratch baker, so several times a week she was whipping up a cake, a pan of brownies or Congo bars, a batch of cookies, a pie... If she didn't have time to bake, her emergency dessert was pudding or jello. I could still go for her chocolate pudding parfait, which layered a stack of Graham crackers with chocolate pudding. Or her other parfait, a chocolate-vanilla pudding combo: layer of choc, layer of vanilla, topped with a maraschino cherry.
Jello was seldom served plain. Lime jello had a can of pears thrown in it. Strawberry jello would have fruit cocktail added in. Grape jello called for grapes, of course.
I actually like jello, but I pretty much only eat it when I'm prepping for a colonoscopy, and you're pretty much only allowed broth and blue, yellow, or orange jello.
So, yeah, jello and I go back a long way. And, even though I seldom eat it, and can't picture myself making a jello mold, I like it.
If you can't see the "recipe", this is lemon jello with cabbage and chives that have been marinated in salt and vinegar, sliced radishes, and hardboiled eggs. The "advantages?" "Shimmering good looks...whole-family appeal..." and you can make it ahead of time.
No, no, a thousand times no. Make that J-E-L-L-NO!
Celery in the Waldorf Salad Jello Mold, or shredded carrots are one thing. But cabbage? Radishes? Hardboiled eggs?
Come on, man! Did anyone ever actually make one of these. Did Dad and big bro really carry Mom in on his shoulders? And did the kids all stand in cheer. (Okay, maybe the baby doing the balancing act on his highchair tray is cheering because he's still too little to eat it. Or he could be scheming to stab mom with his diaper pin.)
Somewhere along the way, I saw something about jello with cut up hotdog embeds. (The sound you just heard was my gag reflex going into overdrive.)
Anyway, all this jello-molding has got me thinking. I'm doing Thanksgiving this year. JELL-O may not make apple jello anymore, but SONIC and Jolly Rancher both make a green apple version. Or I can mix things up and try to make the Waldorf Salad Jello Mold with JELL-O's cranberry jello. I just need to find a way to order less than the 24 pack I saw out there. (Talk about a lifetime supply.)
So, JELL-O Mold on!
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*Yep. I do realize that jello is actually JELL-O, a trademarked brand name. But jello is just such a kleenex-like generic term. When I explicitly refer to the brand, I'll JELL-O it.
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