Not your everyday take on corned beef and cabbage

As general rule, while I like to consider myself a fairly adventurous eater (not quite at the "I'll try anything once", Andrew Zimmern sort of level, but certainly open to unique dining experiences), I've kept most of the vintage recipes I've posted here over the years on the less eyebrow raising side of things.

We've all seen those yesteryear monstrosities that are often mocked and snickered at in today's world. Recipes that usually involve copious amounts of mayonnaise, canned tuna, maraschino cherries, iceberg lettuce, and/or Jell-O, and I’ve preferred to usually keep things more palatable to a modern audience, sharing recipes that many people would actually (happily) want to eat.

Nothing, it seems, screams "What where they thinking" when it comes to vintage recipes quite like a motley crew of ingredients enrobed in a layer of wobbling, quivering gelatine. Not all Jell-o based dishes were science experiments gone awry, some were elegant, immensely tasty recipes that are still with us to this day. Many however, have been, for the most part, left on the cutting room floor of history.

In the spirit of St. Patrick's Day this weekend, we're reviving one of those that just about got away here today: Corned Beef and Slaw Salad. On the surface, when you hear the name of this vintage recipe, you might think to yourself that sounds rather scrumptious - you invasion pieces of warm corned beef strewn through a bed of shredded cabbage or lettuce, perhaps with some boiled new potatoes tossed in for good measure.

No, no, no. I'm afraid that in this case, you'd be off the mark a fair bit. For you see, while, cabbage and corned beef - those most traditional of St. Paddy's Day dinner foods - are indeed part of this recipe - the picture shifts considerably from a meat and greens salad after that.

Instead of simply leaving those two delicious ingredients to their own devices, this creative (circa 1950s) recipe from Knor separates each and nestles it into a layer of plain gelatine, the two then being stacked one on top of the other other, left to set, and finally cut into small cubes of jellied salad.






{Calling all lovers of corned beef, cabbage, and gelatine, this salad is definitely worth adding to your St. Pat's menu this year (if only to watch your guests' expressions when you serve it them!). Image via Home Deconomics on Flickr (click here for a larger version).}



Fundamentally, this isn't an overly off-putting recipe, especially if you're a fan of aspic dishes, but if - like me - you've never really fancied the pairing of meat (or seafood) with gelatine, it might be one of those dishes that you try with more than a hint of trepidation. Ultimately though, it's neither a tricky (to make) nor a particularly bizarre dish.

Most of us have had cabbage and corned beef before, as well the other ingredients called for here (such as sweet pickle, green pepper, and celery), it's just that we're not accustomed to seeing them moulded into gelatine formed and served in wee little bricks. This isn't a dish that you present as haute cuisine, because it absolutely is not. It's fun, it's silly, it's blazingly mid-century, and it's sure to find some at least an enthusiast fan at any good sized St. Patrick's Day feast.

If, however, you simply can't bring yourself to marry these classic Irish ingredients with flavourless gelatine, fear not! You can also do as I touched on earlier in this post and simply select the ingredients you like most in this recipe to make a more traditional salad. I'd opt for green cabbage, a little romaine lettuce, some new spuds (to add to the nod to Ireland), new crop radishes (if they were in the shops already), and probably a creamy honey or grainy mustard dressing (I'm getting hungry just thinking about it!). Vegetarians and vegans can, of course, forgo the corned beef entirely, if you’re putting a modern spin on this festive dish.

For most people St. Patrick's Day is a time of fun, frolicking, drinking, and cutting loose, and there's no reason why that shouldn't apply to your March 17th menu as well. So if you're in the mood something that's a bit different, worth a smile or two, and sure to be memorable, why not serve up a square of Corned Beef and Slaw Salad?

It's so warm, even the vintage fruit salad needs to be frozen!

It's a busy day, it's scorching hot out, and you - and/or your entire household - is suddenly in the mood for dessert tonight, but there's nary a popsicle, cookie crumb, or slice of cake to be had in the whole house, and the last thing you want to do is turn on the oven and risk the kitchen getting so warm the paint starts peeling off the walls (or at least the feeling that it could).

I've been there, believe, me I've been there. Canada certainly deserves its wintery rap, but we're no stranger to mind blowingly hot summertime temperatures either (don't let this year's rain here in B.C. fool you, I've been through my fair share of astronomically hot Canadian summers before), which means that over the years I've come to know just what to do in this kind of situation (especially when the ice cream man is no where in sight).

Frozen desserts and no-bake cheesecakes, my dears. Little, scrumptious summertime dessert godsends, I tell you, which can be jazzed up or striped down to your heart's content, and which spare you from having to even give the stove a passing glance (this point being of prime importance to those, like moi, who are not blessed with central air).

As August is the generally the sort of time when you're in the mood to entertain, serve up sweet treats after midweek meals for the kids, and perhaps bring something delightfully yummy with you to a neighbourhood barbeque, in celebration of the start of the the eight month of the year, today's post features a Frozen Fruit Salad from 1963 fits all of those bills wonderfully.



{Chocked full of fabulous vintage ingredients like maraschino cherries - a personal fave - and pineapple tidbits, this sweet, refreshing vintage Frozen Fruit Salad is as much fun to look at as it is to eat. Image via jackie121467 on Flickr.}


If the idea of adding mayonnaise to something you're likely going to eat for dessert (though, of course, you could always serve this fruit studded dish right alongside your lunch or dinner) doesn't exactly set you salivating, you can always leave it out and just up the whipped cream content by another 1/2 cup or so. Likewise, if this particular pairing of produce isn't your favourite, play around, swapping in or out, whatever you fancy. I could see fresh cherries and ripe summer peaches, partnered with almonds being an especially nice take on frozen fruit salad.

Though this dish is very much akin to ice cream in and of itself, if you wanted to you, you could always serve it with a little dollop of your favourite sorbet, sherbet, ice cream, or vegetarian ice cream (rice, soy, almond, coconut, etc) on top or to the side. Depending on what you add to your frozen salad, a little drizzle of chocolate sauce, caramel, or fruit coulis could be an especially nice touch, too.

August, though sometimes brutally warm, is a gorgeous, dreamy time of the year and one that deserves to be celebrating in ways both big and small, so why not do as I'll be doing this month and whip up a batch or two of delicious frozen fruit salad before autumn returns?