Vintage Recipe Roulette: Postwar Fritos Prune Whip
When it starts to look like elk poop, you'll know you're on the right track
I’ve had my eye on this recipe for years, mainly because I don’t want it sneaking up and leaping upon me from the shadows, but also because it’s so insane I figured I’d have to make it eventually. It’s Prune Whip, brought to you by the Fritos people.
I’m so glad it specifies “(CHILLED)”. I’m not sure I could have proceeded with “(WARM)”.
I’m not sure of the date, but from the design and recipe genre, I’m guessing postwar, the late 1940s or 1950s. (There’s a similar booklet here that’s dated to 1947, but I don’t think it’s the same one. I did snort-laugh about the “Spanish Canapes” though.)
I’m sure you have a lot of questions about this recipe, such as, Why? Or, Whyyyyyyyyyy? Well, I’ve covered the origins of the Fritos chip before, when I tried a “Mexican Salad” out of my grandmother’s 1975 church cookbook. It instructed marinating Fritos in Catalina dressing, and I have three words for you: wet cat litter. So, I think you’ll agree Fritos was never dedicated to good taste when it came to recipes.
What they were dedicated to was selling more Fritos. And here we are.
As for the heresy that was Prune Whip as a common mid-century phenomenon, there’s a similar recipe on the delightful Cookin’ with Congress website — it’s reportedly Dwight D. Eisenhower’s, and has the dubious honor of being in the running for “Shiniest Dish” in the collection. You really have to see the photo to believe it. It looks like someone tried to re-enact Richard Dreyfus’ Close Encounters mashed potato scene with frog spawn.
But, that one uses both gelatin and whipped egg whites, and I’m relieved that the Frito-Lay version mercifully has neither. Here are the ingredients it does contain:
I’m using the fancy prunes because they are softer and will be easier to mix. If you’re starting with already-whipped cream in the can, or want to figure out the conversion to use egg white (you do you), you’ll need about equal volumes of prune and whip. It says to start with prune pulp, and though it isn’t explained, that means you need to stew the prunes in hot water until they plump up and soften, and then mash or puree them. You could also use 8 oz. prune baby food to save yourself a step. I’m just going to make half the recipe, because I after seeing that photo of the presidential version? I might have liked Ike, but I don’t think I’m going to like this recipe.
Stewing the prunes until they resemble elk poop does nothing to stoke my enthusiasm.
It specifies chilling after blending everything together, but I started by chilling the prune puree itself. I think if you added it warm to whipped cream, it would deflate, just like my resolve as I progress through this recipe.
It’s a tad difficult to mix without de-airing your whip, so I also used an old Mary Berry technique — mixing a little bit of your softer ingredient into a stiffer one to loosen it, and then folding gently. (I could watch her fold for hours.) Then after mixing, I put it in a dish I hope will obscure its appearance for further chilling.
It certainly is chilling to look at.
Still, believe it or not, prunes have their place even in modern cuisine. They are a delicious addition to korma or a tagine, and I even throw a couple into stews along with a couple of handfuls of grated cabbage, to add fiber and depth of flavor that just disappears into the broth. Pureed prunes make a delicious addition to brownies, too, and someone on Threads mentioned that they sometimes choose prune pudding to cut back on their chocolate consumption. There’s nothing wrong with chocolate, especially if it’s dark — it’s high in anti-oxidants and makes me extremely happy — but including other nutrient-dense ingredients to meet things like fiber and vitamin goals is a great idea! So, although it might be difficult for you to remain calm given the caliber of recipe you’ve come to expect from me, I have a little surprise: to the second serving, I added some melted and cooled dark chocolate before the first chill.
After 1 hour, the oven timer bell tolls for me. Here they both are, spectacularly unappetizing in appearance, now garnished, and that’s an important point — do not add the Fritos until just before serving. Remember, wet cat litter.
Let’s try it!
So, the original recipe has an unfortunate yellowish cast, similar to what Cookin’ with Congress found. There’s just a hint of lemon. The mouth feel is excellent, really dense and creamy, like a passable mousse, and the flavor actually isn’t bad, but it has that deep, raisin-y, vaguely Dr Peppery flavor that a lot of 3rd millennium people don’t like. It’s in the background, though, which is exactly where it belongs. I think the Fritos are critical — that little bit of salty crunch really cuts the uncanny valley of the flavor.
The chocolate one, though? Surprisingly scrumptious. I added 2 T of chocolate chips to that one serving, so if you make the whole recipe, use about 1/2 c of chips (measured before melting). It’s absolutely decadent, and while the chocolate isn’t the only thing I taste, it is unmistakable. It’s the rest of the flavor that’s mysterious. You could serve this at a dinner party, and I’m not sure anyone would be able to guess what it is.
You should tell them, though, because one serving of this whip has about 4-5 prunes in it. That’s only about 3 grams of fiber, no great shakes, but stone fruits like apricots and prunes are also high in sorbitol, a natural sugar alcohol that is one of the FODMAPs, and thus something that people with IBS might need to avoid. It would be uncool to serve this without a warning label for that reason, and of course because a recipe this ludicrous demands disclosure.
As much as I love Fritos’ take here, I think it would be more sophisticated to top with crushed hazelnuts or chopped pistachios. It depends on the crowd, though. I’m living proof that some people just want to watch it burn.
Need food-first, picky eater-friendly, non-judgmental help with nutrition? You can schedule an appointment with me through Nourish here. I see lots of diabetes, neurodivergence, allergies and GI conditions, autoimmune and inflammatory disorders, and weight management whether for increase or decrease — adults, teens, and kids. We take most insurance, and most often, the copay is $0.
Zen and the Science of Candy Corn is a reader-supported publication that brings me great joy. You can literally give me your 2 cents with the tip jar button below!
Thanks so much for reading! But if you decided to subscribe, free or paid? It might make up for some of the indignity of publicly confessing that I didn’t hate prune Whip.
And feel free to share this post with any prune-loving psychopaths you know.