All is Revealed

 

           

I know two culinary secrets. Just two. That I can remember. At the moment.

Secret one - the thing about teriyaki sauce and Mexican food.

...oh! I should explain. That mystery flavor that you just can't seem to duplicate at home?  It's teriyaki sauce. When you order that sizzling fajitas platter, that's what you're tasting in the meat marinade, as well as in most of the beef dishes. Yup. Teriyaki sauce. 

Ole.

________________________________________________________

I am sorry to tell you this but that thing is not Photoshop.  It is a liver pate en gelatine with a glaze of buttermilk...stuff. Sorry.            

       

I wondered:  Why are there so many Jello salads and congealed salads and aspics and shit in vintage cookbooks?  Why was I chosen to live in the 1960s when that stuff was everywhere?  Why, God? 

My answer, after much research:  Because of Auguste Escoffier, The King of Chefs and the Chef of Kings.   

His star turn was fancy aspics, gelees, molds and terrines. His cookbook is full of the things. They were arguably the signature dishes at his ultra fashionable restaurant, The Savoy, which was the combined Alinea/ French Laundry of its day, the top destination for innovative fine dining, the place you went to see the rich and famous eat frogs' legs and pretend to like them.

It must have seemed like the absolute last word in trendy dining, having those glimmering, colorful  dishes land on your table, so novel, so special;  so unlike the utilitarian slop you ate at home. 

Jellies and aspics began appearing on tables all over America as soon as that first Escoffier cookbook landed in the stores back in 1903. The reason for its huge popularity here in the U.S.? It was novel as ol' Billy Heck - and it was pretty. How fancy!  How refined!  What a lovely conceit!  Pretty food...not just well presented, but turned into a heap of jewels! 

EDIBLE FREAKING JEWELS OMGWTFBBQ     

 

 Look at how pretty this is!  This is a terrine en croute and it's held together with neutral gelatine and sheer good looks. Nothing about it says 'Ordinarily we'd throw out hard boiled eggs this old'!         

Back in 1903, America was still struggling to be seen as a place just as cultured as the Old World. What could possibly be more sophisticated than serving such pretty food in your home? Why you must be very very wealthy indeed. Who ever heard of such a notion; I swannee.

 Jellies and aspics on the family table meant you were daring and debonaire and had quite refined tastes indeed. You had travelled, you had tasted, and by God you were sophisticated as fuck. Meanwhile Katy is in the kitchen boiling the crap out of bones that she'd been saving out of the week's meals. 

YES. 

YES.

 That was then. By the time I came along, Jello molds were entering a new era of glamour, and were now being pushed as a low-calorie food. Suddenly it was the magic solution! Go to any buffet and see women loading up their plates like Mt. Fujiama with whatever Jello atrocity was on offer, no matter how much cheese, sugar or cream was in the thing, and listen to those women swear by all that was holy that every item on their plate was low-cal.  Just bear with me here. 

Jello came in vibrant colors and sugary fruit flavors. Most home cooks came from a background of c-grades, limited choices and necessity food, like parsnips and oatmeal and probably gravel and chunks of bark and shit.  I remember horrible Jello salads filled with pineapple and celery, suspended in a ruby red mound of cherry-flavored Jello, people, and being told by my mother "You just concentrate on the Jello. The other stuff will just slip down." 

This is real, people. This was a thing people ate.  

Jello was not only a magical calorie-canceller, it had also become a way to camouflage the food your family refused to eat. 

I mean, I get the idea; it's Jello! Jello is fun! Jello tastes like candy! So what if there's kohlrabi in that Lime flavored Jello salad? Just concentrate on the Jello and let the rest slip down!

Here's the punchline.  Escoffier glammed up the common terrine (which later morphed into the Jello Mold Salad) with truffles, vegetables cut into fancy shapes and garnishes as a way to get rid of ends, peelings, scrapings and stuff about to go by in his restaurant kitchen.  Yup. Grind it up, add some pungent seasonings and some aspic; then send it out onto the floor to wild acclaim. Well, with a sauce too; come on. He wasn't a total barbarian. But there  he was doing the same thing as the ladies in the late 1960's were doing - hiding everything you didn't want to eat under a coating of jiggly, glistening legerdemain.  His genius shines through in that he charged people dearly to eat this stuff and laughed all the way to the bank. Your aunt just thinks you're stupid.* 

________________________       

OK then! Now you know why your great aunt keeps bringing that raspberry Jello with peas and parsnips thing to your family get togethers. The old dear thinks it's classy. 

You've got four things you can do when you find yourself in this situation: 

1. Tell her 'It's just too pretty to eat!' and use it as a centerpiece  

2. Niggle out a serving that's all Raspberry Jello and hide your efforts by shooting a fuck-ton of Kool Whip on it 

3. Open the door and sling it outside like a Frisbee 

4. Put her in a home

__________________________________________________

*Hell, they'll never notice the squash and onions under a coating of Orange flavored Jello!"

** Anyone in the UK recognize these people?  I give you:  My Evil Aunt – Many have one, I have two!