Okay, not literally, but almost. Which brings us to the second recipe from A Time For Cooking, Ginger's Pineapple And Roquefort Cheese Salad. A few weeks ago, I decided just to pick a number at random and make whatever happened to fall on that page. I realized the folly of that plan when the page happened to contain this... "salad."
I like pineapple. I LOVE Roquefort cheese. I even enjoy stuffed olives, celery and lime jello, the other major constituents in this recipe. However, I've decided that I like them when they're kept far, far apart from each other. Just imagining the flavour sensation of pineapple and blue cheese together was bad enough, without even factoring in the strong tastes of the other ingredients. I shuddered just reading the recipe. But I soldiered on.
Then, I slipped the salad out from its mold. And I felt nauseous. Quivering on a plate sat a big... pile... of bloody mucus. The sour smell of the lime coupled with the earthier scent of the cheese even smelled like vomit. The recipe wanted me to put this thing on lettuce leaves and serve with mayonnaise, but I just couldn't bring myself to do that. I had created my own little torture porn movie with nothing more than a grocery list.
But reader, I ate it. Or at least no more than one slice, the flavor of which I can barely describe. I told someone it tasted like mothballs, not because I've ever tried one, but because that was the worst thing I could think of someone eating at the time. It starts off citrusy and sweet, before suddenly turning salty and sour and, I swear to Christ, MOLDY because of the frigging blue cheese. I couldn't even finish my bit before throwing out the whole thing.
So, from now on I am going to pick randomly, unless it looks like cold molded ass in which case I will move on the next thing that could be passingly edible.
And if I ever meet this Ginger character, I am punching her right in the goddamned face.
5 comments:
"I like pineapple. I LOVE Roquefort cheese. I even enjoy stuffed olives, celery and lime jello, the other major constituents in this recipe."
Sweet jesus, did people in 1962 just throw good stuff together and hope for the best? Those things do not go together, at all. I shuddered when I read your description of the taste. For real
Re Max's comment:
My mom mentioned recently that when she was a kid, my grandmother would make a really special dessert some times that goes as follows:
1. Open one end of a can of pineapple chunks
2. Drain liquid
3. Add some sort of colored gelatin product
4. Let the gel set
5. Open the other end of the can
6. Slice; serve
Bon Appetit!
Mirah: I would totally it that. It doesn't involve blue cheese, for a start.
Max: Actually, they threw good stuff together, added jello and THEN hoped for the best.
I'd be interested in knowing when the definition of a salad changed-- or if lettuce was ever involved in any of the "salads" of the sixties.
ps. The pictures are phenomenal! And if there aren't marshmallows in it, or jell-o, it's not a dessert.
Danielle: I guess since you can't can lettuce, they decided it was unusable for the duration of the '60s. 'Cause everyone must get stoned, er, canned.
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