Vintage Recipe Roulette: Pennywise Salad
Based on lime Jell-O, horseradish, and cabbage, IT's worthy of Stephen King
I keep thinking there’s something I just haven’t understood about savory Jell-O salads. I haven’t ever found one I like, but they were everywhere for DECADES, especially church functions, holiday meals, and funerals. Surely I just haven’t found the right one yet?
I hate lime Jell-O except for the pear and cream cheese one my grandmother used to make, but I also think it might be the most congruent with savory ingredients. I bought a box, and I’ve picked out a couple of salads from my 1960s copy of The Joys of Jell-O to try. I’m going to meditate while they’re firming up in the fridge to help myself cultivate an open mind, so that I may meet this culinary challenge without hindrance by my preferences and previous unfortunate gelatin-related traumas.
First up: the yawning abyss of Penny-wise Salad.
To be fair, when it was named, Pennywise the horror clown of IT fame was not yet conceived, but the connotation is inescapable these days, especially when I’m staring down a bouncy, twisted, childhood friend of my own. But, it’s named that because the ingredients are thrifty.
I’m going to be brave. I love horseradish, and apples, and even cabbage. Let’s see how it goes. I’m just going to make half the recipe by weighing out about half of the package of powder and halving the volumized ingredients.
Once you add the vinegar and horseradish, it develops a murky, otherworldly greenish glow. You have to let the gelatin set up to very thick before adding the salad ingredients, so they don’t sink…or float. With vinegar there to impede the gelling, it may take a little while longer, but eventually, it should do this:
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I uploaded that to TikTok just for you. And yes, that is the theme song from the movie IT.
As you can see from the header image, the bits stay suspended as long as the gelatin has thickened enough. (Don’t wait too long; if you stir bits into set gelatin, you’ll get a kind of Jell-O mulch.) Then chill until very firm, rinse the mold with warm water for a few seconds, and plop it out onto your chosen garnish. I went with lettuce leaves because I think it will clash maximally with the unnatural green.
I was right.
I tasted it, and I was immediately transported back to what I think was an 80s poolside BBQ. I could literally smell chlorine — the memory was that strong. This “salad” is revolting, so so so salty. I think trying it unlocked a remembrance of having a hot dog with Jell-O relish on it. (Yes, it’s real, although making it with lime instead of unflavored gelatin may have been a late-20th century Texas home cook innovation. I know I saw it more than once.) This should not be eaten as a side salad, but I can’t deny there’s an aspect to it that’s refreshing. Maybe if you cut the salt by half? The horseradish is weird, too. If you left that out, and you love lime Jell-O, this could be marginally edible. The apples did not brown, by the way, thanks to the citric acid in the Jell-O.
Okay, let’s take a different tactic — something simpler, maybe with a garnish that puts the Jell-O in an ensemble cast. Horseradish is fired. Let’s try Savory Spinach Salad, which has a very short ingredient list:
I’m really concerned about the boiled egg, I’m not going to lie. But I love spinach, and there’s quite a bit in here. There’s also a ludicrously small amount of grated onion, but I’m not going to skip it. I’ve chosen a fancy dish, too, so that if you’re haunted by nightmares of the time your gelatin mold disintegrated, you’ll know there are other options.
I tried to really play up the kitsch here. And I’ve garnished with mayo dutifully, the way so many gelatin salads suggest. I’m going to call this one The Pool, after a particularly terrifying short story of Stephen King’s which I’ve never been able to find again and may have somehow imagined entirely or dreamed, about a thing at the bottom of a pool that is made out of whatever has fallen in over time, like leaves and cat hair and dead raccoons.
Y’all. This is awful. It’s a lot of trouble, several steps, and it is irredeemably chaotic. The egg and mayo with onion and sweet lime is beyond the pale. If you really want to try it, just make some deviled eggs and pour a little powdered lime Jell-O into the yolks. It’ll taste exactly the same, but the texture will be better.
Okay, maybe lime just isn’t for me, or the vinegar is a no-go. Let’s try this one. It has several fancy ingredients! It says De Luxe right there in the name! And no lime.
I love lemon Jell-O and won Susie Hamilton’s 2023 Aspic Invitational with a lemon, almond, fig, and lavender goat cheese mold. Maybe this one will have a similar effect.
Welp, after letting the gelatin and sour cream set up to thick (and wine, which also interferes with gelling, so it took extra time), I’ve stirred in the blue cheese (which I love) and apples (which I love), and there’s no way around it —
It looks like dog vomit.
I tried so hard to get a decent photo of this, because I think it’s going to taste good, but it is just hideous. I’m nicknaming this one The Shining. It says to serve with crackers, so…here we go.
It’s terrible. It does not spread; it just sort of disintegrates into a pile of mess. I would be hard pressed to imagine something that belongs on a cracker less than this. And because the blue cheese is added in as a mix-in rather than melted into the matrix, it tastes like lemon Jell-O most of the time, and then you’ll get a blue cheese hit out of nowhere, at the back of the flavor progression, like this:
I hated every one of these. They are David Lynch’s Suffocating Rubber Clown Suit of Negativity made incarnate. I’m not ready to give up, though. I know my white whale savory gelatin salad delight is out there.
Keep an eye out for Part Two.
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These are so unbelievably unappetizing!
Great, enjoyable read as usual! I am sure I read The Pool at one point, but I can't remember where.