Nostalgia: Jello and A Covered Dish

 

Jello in setting in the refrigerator during the 1940s meant one thing: company. Meals didn’t come from store-bought packaged food. During the summer, food came from the garden. During the winter it came from the home-canned summer’s bounty or the frozen food in the rental freezer locker at the Farmer’s  Co-op store. Milk and eggs came from Grandpa’s farm. Nobody had a lot of money after the war, and money wasn’t going to be spent in a store unless it was necessary.

Jello was usually orange, strawberry or cherry flavored with banana slices added, unless some fresh or canned fruit was put in. Jello was usually put in a ring mold from which the Jello was released when the mold was very briefly set in water. The mold would be turned over on a plate and there the jiggly wonder was. Molds got fancy. They were shaped like stars, lobsters, fish, or were bowl-like with little shapes in the sides.  Shapes added to the company-set table, but the shapes didn’t matter to kids.

More and more Jello became a staple at ladies’ luncheons, potlucks and funeral dinners. It was a store-bought product that made an impression. By then, there were flavors such as lemon and lime that kids thought were really messed up when yukky coleslaw, celery, carrots and walnuts were added. Whatever happened is anybody’s guess, but by the mid-1960s Jello started fading from potluck scene. It was strongly suggested at the planning meeting for a women’s salad luncheon that Jello was not a salad and should not be an offering, except the little old ladies with the blue hair continued to bring such favorites as green peppers in lime Jello slathered with Dream Whip. After that it seemed as if Jello went by the wayside, only to be brought back in one recent instance by the pastor who looked at the food at a church potluck and asked where the Jello was. The church ladies thought he was quite cosmopolitan, coming from the East Coast where people must still consider Jello a delicacy.

It was indeed a surprise to see Jello served as the dessert at our building’s Friday dessert and coffee for those teachers not on playground duty. The dessert was called Broken Glass, which reminded the teacher who made it of stained glass church windows. Since it was the last day before the Christmas break, the dessert was quite fitting. Made with a graham cracker crust, firm orange, lime and cherry gelatin was cut into small pieces and then dropped into whipped Dream Whip and lemon Jello before being poured over the crust, then sprinkled with graham cracker crumbs, and allowed to set. Servings of the Broken Glass were pretty, even prettier when made in an angel food pan. Broken Glass made it to the Christmas table that year. Though it had to be calorie laden, the seemingly light dessert was fitting on that Christmas table. It also made a new bride look good.

Before the days of unions, district teachers got together for in-service and in social groups. Ours was Teachers’ Council which met after school once a month. Each school, on a rotating basis, was responsible for refreshments, which in those days meant coffee and dessert. Always coffee. Never tea. The district reflected a Scandinavian background, and those who drank tea in Northeast Wisconsin in those days were considered “affected.” Our building’s chair instructed us to bring bar cookies and then asked if there were questions. At 26 and the youngest teacher by 25 years, I was surely not known for culinary delights. I had a question. What was a bar cookie? When it was explained in the midst of eye rolling, it turned out to be brownies, lemon bars, peanut squares and so on. Who ever heard of a bar cookie? Nobody where I grew up. We called the desserts what they were and we knew what we were eating. 

After admitting I didn’t know what bar cookies were, I didn’t want to admit much else. I was engaged and didn’t want to look any worse. Then we had a day of meetings for which each school was assigned a specific potluck food. When we were told to bring a covered dish, I was afraid to ask what was supposed to be in it. A woman who had befriended me wasn’t going to roll her eyes, so I asked, only to learn that a covered dish was simply a casserole. We called casseroles what they were, although there were some who called them hot dishes. I made some pretty good casseroles, so when I brought my covered dish, I didn’t tell anybody that my tasty contribution was really a casserole.

Casseroles have gone by the wayside to be replaced by Hamburger Helper, Mac and Cheese and a great many more things on the grocer’s shelf. Adding water to a box of Jello makes it one of the easiest things to make, however now it is a convenience food sold in the deli department or even comes in little sealed plastic cups on the grocers’ shelves. Somehow it is not surprising because one can buy frozen baked potatoes that only need to be popped into the over for 30 minutes, thus shaving the other 30 minutes off dinner prep. And those deli hard boiled eggs? It takes longer to get to the store than it does to boil them. Of course, when one gets busy and the water boils away, washing the eggs off the ceiling takes much longer than going to the store.

Many years later covered dishes and church basement ladies started resurfacing. About 15 or so years ago, two women from Hastings, Minnesota wrote a hilarious book reflecting the ladies, the covered dishes and more in a time that was. Today seems like a good to get out an old mold, make some Jello and invite company for dinner. Maybe a covered dish would be a perfect compliment. Add a glass of wine and let the memories flow.