Pumpkin Jell-O Mold

contributed by Teenage Bamm-Bamm, Jacksonville, Fla.



Jet was out of town the weekend before Thanksgiving, and I lied awake several nights dreaming up some new culinary deviltry to foist upon him, going so far as to decide that I would actually invent my own recipe for Thanksgiving Day.

I was toying with the idea of creating some sort of gelatin recipe involving cranberry sauce and bits of turkey, but thought that might be too ambitious for my first invented recipe. I settled on pumpkin, knowing how much Jet likes pumpkin pie.

I began with lemon Jell-O, the classic base for all gelatin mold recipes. To this I would fold in a can of cooked pumpkin and an equal amount of Cool Whip, and perhaps some pecans or walnuts.

Before actually beginning the preparations, however, I did a quick bit of internet research to make sure my idea wasn't TOO off-base, as this time it would not only be Jet testing the results, but most of our family.

What did I find, but a recipe that was almost exactly what I had in mind. The discovery served only to heighten my anticipation, as well as my sense of pride that I had invented a recipe that actually sort-of existed.

I give you now the recipe as I found it online (which is what I actually made) as well as the differences that would have existed in my homemade version.

1 3-ounce package lemon gelatin
1 cup boiling water
2 tablespoons sugar (I did not think of adding sugar to mine)
1/4 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice (nor did I know that pre-mixed pumpkin pie spice was sold. I was planning to add a dash each of cinnamon, allspice and nutmeg.)
1 cup canned pumpkin (I did not measure a cup out, but used an entire standard can)
1 small tub Cool Whip
1/2 cup chopped pecans

Dissolve Jello in boiling water; add sugar and spice. Add pumpkin, mixing well. Chill until slightly thickened. Fold in Cool Whip and nuts. Pour into mold or clean bowl and refrigerate until firm.

Learning from my experience with Guess What Salad, I refrigerated the mold overnight. And the result was....

PS - the cranberries are just for show, and are not to be eaten. Unless you're Jet's sister, who defiantly scooped up a handful and shoved them in her mouth.

What we thought: I have no rating system for when people actually LIKE what I made, enough to have me make it again. This dessert was universally loved by all, especially Aunt Conchita, who declared it the perfect dessert for Thanksgiving owing to it's lightness and effervescence.

Our Rating: Negative Five Screaming Jets!

(all dishes are rated from one to five Screaming Jets. One Screaming Jet equals a happy home where all problems are solved during cocktail hour. Five Screaming Jets signals the beginning of divorce proceedings.)

Potatoe Chip Cookies

Contributed by Mrs. Andrew J. White, Jr., Columbus, Oh.
collection of the author



Were you ever really snacky (for the sake of argument, and to better connect with my presumed audience, let's just say you were stoned) and went to the kitchen to get something to eat, and there were presented with the age-old dilemma of exactly what to eat? I mean, do you go for the cookies, or the potato chips?

Thanks to the wonders of modern cookery, you no longer have to be confronted with this bothersome decision-making.

Because you can have BOTH.

I was flipping through the "Desserts" volume of Favorite Recipes of America, when out fell an ephemeraphile's delight: a pamphlet entitled Special Recipe Collection from the Ladies of the 5th Division Commandery. (You can learn all about the Grand Commandery Knights Templar by clicking here. Be sure you have your sound turned up real loud.)

Not only was it filled with gastronomical wonders, many of which I'll be featuring on this site in weeks to come, but the pamphlet itself was stuffed full of loose index cards with handwritten recipes of treats I dimly remember from my youth, including Special K Fruit Cookies, Lebkuchen, and something called "Aunt Sue's Chicken", an unfortunate concoction that involves mushroom soup and Buddig dried beef. And chicken, of course.

Also included was this gem, "Potatoe Chip Cookies", which I remember well. Chiefly because:

- improperly crushed potato chips will cause severe gum lacerations, which will immediately have salt rubbed in them, and;

- My grandmother, Mrs. White, would cheerfully urge her obese grandchildren to eat all they wanted, as "there's not much sugar in them."

The recipe seems to have come from the kitchen of "Helen", who didn't know how to spell potato. I'm assuming this would be Mrs. White's friend Helen Rice, whom I briefly and excitedly surmised might be the poet Helen Steiner Rice, until Mother Rubble set me straight. Code Dependent, however, did divulge that she once witnessed OUR Helen Rice don a plastic grass skirt and do a hula dance while lip-synching to "We Are Going to A Huki-lau".

The Recipe:



Ingedients bought for this recipe: NONE!

Ingredients already on hand: I used pre-sifted flour, which seems like cheating somehow, but there you have it.

I used pecans for the nuts, though I suppose any nut would do, I even considered peanuts. The pecans were pre-chopped. I really got off easy this week.

I used Ruffles ridged potato chips - I'm thinking this part is glaringly unhistorical, as I'm sure my grandmother would have used flat, greasy potato chips that were delivered to her house in a tin can. But I'm lazy, and it's what I had on hand.

I used butter instead of margarine, again because it's what I had on hand. It seems more natural, somehow. Plus, butter creamed with sugar is, I'm quite certain, the best smell on the Earth. Ever.

I baked them a little longer than suggested, about 25 minutes, because they weren't browned yet at 20.

What we thought: Again this week, the rules were broken by Jet knowing what I was making ahead of time. He has been eating the cookies for about three days now without saying much, until this morning, when he said "These cookies aren't really very good." And then kept eating. I think he was just saying it so I'd have something to write here.

They're not bad, slightly reminiscent of a pecan sandie, owing of course to the fact that I used pecans. The cookies are VERY crumbly, you almost have to eat them standing over the sink or the trash pail. They certainly wouldn't stand up to a good dunking in milk. If I ever make them again, I may try and come up with a clever way to make them doughier so they hold together better. And some orange zest wouldn't hurt either. Maybe a Hershey's kiss plopped in the middle of each cookie. And some frosting.



Our Rating: One Screaming Jet!

(all dishes are rated from one to five Screaming Jets. One Screaming Jet equals a happy home where all problems are solved during cocktail hour. Five Screaming Jets signals the beginning of divorce proceedings.)

Chicken and Coke

Contributed by Mrs. Willard Williams, Courtland, Miss.
Favorite Recipes of America: Meats p. 241



This recipe, otherwise known as "I'm too fat and lazy to make you a real Sunday dinner", is the sole reason I rescued this set of cookbooks from the trash bin. I've been dying to try this recipe for about fifteen years but have never had a reason until now.

Plus, since I've still be unsuccessful in my search for proper Jell-O molds (but may have some soon, thanks to a helpful tip from Mrs. Sam Molaro of Blissfield, Mich.!) I decided to go with a meat dish for this posting.

The recipe:

1 fryer, cut into pieces
1 tsp. salt
1/2 c. catsup
1 lge. Coke

Place chicken in a deep skillet or casserole dish. Pour salt, catsup and Coke over chicken. Bake at 300 degrees for 1 hour to 1 hour and 30 minutes.

I started out thinking that Mrs. Willard Williams must have secretly despised her family, or been severely handicapped and unable to cook. Then I realized she was from Mississippi, in which case she had probably been raised with any number of innovative uses for Coca-Cola, including using it as a poultry marinade.

Ingredients bought for this recipe:

1 fryer (already cut up, with giblets)

Against the rules, Jet knew about this recipe all day. And he scolded me for buying an already-cut fryer.

Ingredients already in the fridge:

Coke

Catsup (actually, Heinz ketchup. Hopefully it didn't make a difference)

I had no idea what "1 lge. Coke" might signify to a 1968 housewife, but I guessed at 12 ounces, which is a cup and a half.

Since the main dish was so easy to assemble, I decided to make a whole meal of dishes which would signify that the chef was too fat and lazy to make anything nice. Thus:

Green Salad

contributed by Teenage Bamm-Bamm, Jacksonville, Fla.

1 bag pre-washed Romaine Hearts

Dressing

Tear romaine hearts into bite-size pieces. Top with dressing.

Jet also wanted in on the action, and decided to make home-made macaroni and cheese, which I pooh-poohed as being too much love and attention for a fat and lazy person to lavish on his or her family. He refused to follow my suggestion to white-trash the recipe up a little by using Velveeta or, preferably, Cheez Whiz. But he did relent and top the casserole with crumbled Ritz crackers.

Macaroni and Cheese

Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook, p. 160

1 cup elbow macaroni

1/4 cup chopped onion

1 tablespoon butter or margarine

1 tablespoon all-purpose flour

Dash pepper

1 1/4 cups milk

2 cups shredded American cheese

1 cup Ritz crackers, crumbled

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cook macaroni according to package directions. Meanwhile, for cheese sauce, cook onion in butter or margarine till tender but not brown. Stir in flour and pepper. Add milk all at once. Cook and stir till slightly thickened and bubbly. Add shredded cheese, stir till melted. Stir macaroni into cheese sauce. Transfer to a 1-quart casserole. Bake, uncovered, in a 350 degree oven for 25 to 30 minutes or till bubbly. During the last five minutes of baking, arrange crumbled Ritz crackers atop macaroni. Let stand 10 minutes. Makes 4 servings.

Unbeknownst to me, Jet turned up the heat on the chicken halfway through, to accommodate the macaroni, and because he was worried that the Coca-Cola sauce wasn't bubbling. It seems to have worked out fine.

What we thought: The chicken was remarkably moist and tender, owing we assume to the Coca-Cola. When preparing the recipe, I had thought that the ketchup-Coke combination was meant to approximate Barbecue sauce, but the Coke seems to have acted solely as a moistening agent, and not imparted much flavor to the dish at all. If I ever am lazy enough to make something like it again, I may just go ahead and use Barbecue sauce, and leave the Coke to do it's moistening work (though I'm wondering if any carbonated beverage would do. The Coke brought on a night full of troubled dreams involving me living in a flophouse with 1940's actress Teresa Wright.)

The macaroni was the star of the evening, I highly recommend it, though it's certainly more effort than your average negligent housewife would be willing to expend.

Our Rating:

Zero Screaming Jets!

(all dishes are rated from one to five Screaming Jets. One Screaming Jet equals a happy home where all problems are solved during cocktail hour. Five Screaming Jets signals the beginning of divorce proceedings.)