The Big Chill
Here are two offerings, dear reader, both from the era of the Frigidaire. Both of these, um, unique dishes require refrigeration, so if a 1950s American housewife put either of these recipes on her table, she was showing off the results of her pricey new Frigidaire, basically telegraphing to her guests that she was fancy. This explains, in part, why gelatinised, chilled foods were so abundant on the dinner table after the introduction of the Frigidaire. At least, that’s the reason that makes the most sense to me, because, dear reader, if I’m perfectly honest, these recipes aren’t very…good. If you twist my arm, I will admit that the ambrosia salad is significantly better than the tomato aspic - but neither would be my first port of call. But these two recipes may become personal favourites, so do not let me discourage you, dear reader. On that note, let’s start with the aspic.
Tomato Aspic
An aspic is a savoury jelly. There are some truly egregious ones out there, which I have mercifully ignored to spare you, dear reader. If you are strong-willed and even stronger-stomached, these horrors abound on the interwebs and are readily available with a quick search. Best of luck. But today, we are focusing on that slightly less off-putting version: a fairly straightforward tomato aspic.
Ingredients
½ c of room-temperature water
2 envelopes of gelatin
3 c of tomato juice
½ c of onion, finely chopped
½ c of celery, finely chopped
1 tbsp of lemon juice
2 tsp of Worcestershire sauce
½ tsp of pepper
½ tsp cayenne (optional, if spice isn’t your thing)
Instructions
Combine gelatin in room-temperature water. Mix well so that the gelatin is fully incorporated (no lumps!) and let sit.
On the stovetop, add remaining ingredients into a pot and bring to a simmer. Let simmer for about 15 minutes. Then add the gelatin mixture.
Stir to ensure all gelatin is fully dissolved.
Spray a 5-cup mould with nonstick spray. Let the mixture cool, then pour into the mould.
Chill in the refrigerator for 4-6 hours, or until aspic has set.
Traditionally, this is served with a mound of mayonnaise in the centre, on a bed of Bibb lettuce. You slice it like you would a Bundt cake, and eat it with a fork or spoon. I wish I could offer you more here, dear reader, something that would make sense of this monstrosity, but I’ve given you all I have. If you choose not to partake in tomato aspic, just know that I will not judge you.
Ambrosia Salad
This recipe produces a more palatable result. Ambrosia salad, sometimes called only ‘ambrosia,’ is a very popular dish in the American South, often considered a staple for picnics. In some respects, that makes sense: it is served cold, so it would make a nice, chilly mouthful on a hot day. It also explains the presence of things like coconut and pecans, which are popular ingredients in Southern baking. Rest assured, dear reader, you will not have to turn on the oven for this recipe. As with the above tomato aspic, this kind of recipe relies on refrigeration and only asks for combining - can we even call this sort of thing ‘cooking’? I’ll let you decide.
Ingredients:
8 oz whipped cream (you can use frozen whipped topping to be really modern)
½ c plain yogurt or sour cream
1 c shredded sweetened coconut
11 oz canned mandarin oranges, drained
8 oz canned pineapple tidbits or crushed pineapple, drained
1 c maraschino cherries, drained
½ c chopped pecans optional
1 ½ c mini fruit-flavoured marshmallows (you can use the plain kind, but the flavoured ones are more ‘authentic.’ There’s a brand-new sentence.)
Instructions
In a large bowl, stir together the whipped cream and yogurt or sour cream.
Using a spatula, carefully fold remaining ingredients into the whipped cream and yogurt mixture.
Chill before serving.
Now, you might notice that this recipe calls for almost entirely sweet ingredients: the sweetened coconut, all that tinned fruit, the marshmallows. And yet, this is not considered dessert. If you are bringing ambrosia salad to the function, expect to find it plonked on the table next to the hot dogs or corn on the cob. Again, I have no explanations for you, dear reader, but a whole subculture of America swears by it, so who am I to question it? I would say ‘enjoy!’ but I’m not entirely sure that you will. Perhaps I’ll say instead, ‘persevere!’
Jennifer