Jell-O makes memories of 'regrettable' food events

A co-worker in a random-act-of-kindness mode this week presented me with a copy of one of the most hilarious books I've read in some time. It's called "The Gallery of Regrettable Food," and is, quite simply, outtakes from retro American cookbooks accompanied by biting (pardon the pun) commentary.

Or, as the book jacket describes, the work is "a simple introduction to poorly photographed foodstuffs and horrid recipes from the Golden Age of Salt and Starch."

The author is James Lileks, a columnist for the Minneapolis-St. Paul Star Tribune, who grew up in Fargo, N.D. in the 1960s. I was also growing up in the 1960s, just 25 miles from Fargo. We were neighbors, you might say. Maybe that's why his comical ramblings hit a chord with me.

The book is sure to bring back long-repressed food memories for anyone who grew up in the Midwest during the 1950s, '60s and '70s. Thanks to this literary gem, I'm once again haunted by Jell-O horror stories of the past.

Whoever thought it was a good idea to combine Jell-O and vegetables in the same dish? I remember at least 10 consecutive Thanksgivings when my mother prepared a "salad" she called Golden Glow. It involved orange Jell-O and shredded carrots and pineapple set in a ring-shaped mold. But here's the kicker - inside the ring of gelatinous goo, Mom spooned a heaping mound of mayonnaise. Mayonnaise! On Jell-O! Need I say more?

My mother also coerced me into making a cottage-cheese "salad" one year for a 4-H demonstration at the annual June is Dairy Month event in our hometown. I was 10 or 11. This recipe, too, involved gelatin, but this time it was mixed with cottage cheese, paprika and other ingredients that should never be mixed together.

After the blender nearly exploded while I was making this fine dish and expounding on the benefits of dairy foods at the same time, I spooned the curdled-looking conglomeration into, you guessed it, a Jell-O mold.

I'd be remiss here if I didn't mention one more horrible food memory from my childhood. It's a simple "fruit salad" the church ladies called Glorified Rice, and mark my words, it showed up at every potluck event in the greater Fargo, N.D. area in the 1960s. Rice mixed with whipped cream and pineapple, that's all it is, but I absolutely hated it.

"The Gallery of Regrettable Food" devotes an ample section to congealed meats of various sorts, including "Poultry for the Glum." My mother used to make head cheese, so I know all about congealed meat.

The process of making head cheese involves cooking pig heads, picking the meat off the skulls and compressing it with spices in cheesecloth until it's a solid gray mass. I remember the old-timers in our neighborhood considering this delicacy a real treat, but all I'm left with after all these years is the regrettable memory of pig snouts jutting up out of a huge stock pot.

The meat horror stories don't stop there, though. Another family favorite passed down from Norwegian generation to generation is a baked slab of blood sausage called resk. I'm not sure if resk is a Norwegian word, and I've never run into anyone outside of our clan who's ever heard the word. The process involved getting pig's blood from the local butcher shop, mixing the blood with shredded potatoes and topping it off with slices of side pork (uncured bacon). Let's just say I've never had a craving for it since I left home.

To my mother's credit, I should note that she was an above-average cook, who made most things from scratch, even on busy days when she was chauffeuring her four children to 4-H meetings and extracurricular activities. And since she's still cooking, I just have one bit of advice: Lose the Jell-O!

Features editor Lynnette Hintze may be reached at 758-4421 or by e-mail at lhintze@dailyinterlake.com