Vintage Recipe Roulette: Frog Eye Salad
Just in time to get yourself dis-invited for next Thanksgiving.
I often peruse vintage recipes anew this time of year, and a few years ago, amongst the canned cream of tomato soup for breakfast and the creamed corn fritters, a certain side dish really…caught my eye.
It’s a kind of ambrosia salad-like conglomeration of canned fruit, sweet dressing, and little beads of acini di pepe pasta called Frog Eye Salad.
There are many versions online, but surprisingly, none of them instruct the cook to mutter, “Bubble, bubble toil and trouble.” They do, however, tell you to buy 2 different kinds of canned pineapple for reasons I will never understand. It used to be on the old Martha Gooch brand pasta boxes, but the origins of the recipe are obscure to me. The earliest one I can find with a cursory search is from 1975, in a South Carolina newspaper called The Sumter Daily Item. Dorrel Bendell shares “Granma’s” latest recipe. “Don’t be afraid,” says Dorrel, somewhat forebodingly.
Also foreboding is the nearby advertisement for pink double-knit fabric.
“Flattering,” hahahhahahaha.
Anyway, I know for a fact that Granma’s other recipe as reported by Dorrel, Meat-za, originated with a 1965 Campbell’s soup ad, so it seems likely she could have gotten Frog Eye Salad off of a pasta box as all grandmas do at one time or another. I swear to you that this recipe was once very well known, and that it actually remains very well known in parts of the country, especially Utah. Some written recipes actually call it Mormon Frog Eye Salad. The Vintage Cook has a 1998 Kansas Women’s Club cookbook with three recipes on the same page, including one that will get you banned from the church potluck; the custard is replaced with *clutches pearls* instant pudding.
Recipes vary a bit, but usually it contains cooked acini de pepe pasta, pineapple in both crushed and tidbit form, mandarin oranges, sometimes other canned fruits or bananas, shredded coconut, mini marshmallows, whipped topping, and a sort of custard made out of the reserved canned juice.
Acini di pepe means “peppercorns”, and they are little tiny spheres as one might expect. De Cecco pasta still makes it, and if you can’t find that locally, you might be able to find Israeli couscous, as I have done — it’s close enough. (You can also use any pastina, like little stars or orzo, if your local witch supply depot is fresh out of frog eyes.) If you’ve every had boba pearl tea, the cooked texture will be familiar, and in fact if you need this to be gluten free, you can make it with boba pearls and cornstarch instead of pasta and flour.
I’ve made this a couple of times now, so I’m going to combine bits of different recipes to get the flavor combos I want. I tried a version that was just custard, and I think the fluffier, whipped topping version is superior, and I still have half a container from last week’s circus peanut shenanigans. I don’t want it to be allllll about pineapple but do want cherries, so I’m replacing the tidbits with fruit cocktail. And, I think using egg white is more likely to result in scrambled egg sauce, so I’m just going to use a yolk for a richer color and flavor, with fewer culinary pitfalls. Here are the main ingredients (you’ll need a bit of salt and flour, and whipped topping if you want it):
Please note that Dorrel’s grandma’s version serves 25. I’m going to make about 1/3 of the recipe. It’s typically important to get fruit canned in juice, but some of what I wanted wasn’t available that way, and for the version I’m making, there will be enough pineapple juice in the can of crushed.
It’s important to follow the package directions on the specific pasta you buy. I’ve got Israeli couscous, which you add to boiling water and let sit to swell and soften. Other pastas will call for boiling, or a combo of the two techniques. I do suggest salting the water for this recipe. It should have a chewy, al dente texture when done. Let it chill in the fridge while you make the rest.
It’s a good idea to let the fruit chill too, after you drain it really, really well so that your salad isn’t watery. (This also gives you an opportunity to pick out anything you personally can’t stand, like those hideous peeled grapes, ugh.) Don’t forget to RESERVE THE JUICE…but if you do forget or don’t end up with enough, you can always use orange juice.
I like Dorrel’s grandma’s suggested technique of mixing the sugar with the salt and flour before blending with the egg and liquid to make the cursed juice custard — this will prevent lumps as long as you whisk well and stir while heating, which you should do gently and patiently to avoid curdles. You’re looking for it to thicken and coat the back of a spoon. It will thicken more as it chills.
What I don’t like is the idea of mixing the marshmallows in and chilling overnight, because they halfway dissolve into little goo blobs. I suggest adding those right before serving the way some other recipes specify, unless goo blob texture is a bonus for you — no judgement. Some recipes suggest banana, and that’s another thing that should wait until serving.
You don’t really have to chill it overnight, but at least a few hours is important. The coconut needs some time to soften, and the matrix needs time to thicken. The last thing you want is a glitch in the matrix, right? Really, a third of the recipe is the right amount for a garden-variety potluck— it’s the same volume as a large pie, and let’s face it…a lot of people at the party aren’t going to eat this.
Let’s forget about the name for now so I can stand to try it! The pasta pearls remain chewy after chilling, thank heavens. The fruit is, you know, canned fruit, aggressively mushy. I can’t for the life of me understand why someone thought it was important to include both crushed and tidbit pineapple? The crushed adds flavor but disappears, so the tidbits would be sufficient. I think the cherries are critical for just a dab of color, but you could also garnish with regular maraschino cherries. They’re revolting, but they are historically accurate. The flavor isn’t bad, but the textures would be hard to overdramatize. I think there’s something here to trigger hate in almost anyone, because it features all five of the basic disgusting textures: mushy, sticky, gooey, chewy, and coconut.
Basically, if you like ambrosia salad but just wish it were somehow chewy, this is the salad for you! It’s also a great opportunity to try making an egg-thickened sauce if you’ve never done it before.
How am I gonna top this holiday horror recipe next year? I don’t know…I’ll just have to keep my eye out.
*wink wink*
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