Church potluck every Sunday when I was a kid. A whole buffet line of jello based not dessert dishes. Usually peas in green jello, shredded carrots in orange jello,or hotdog in jello abominations. If not jello, there were at least 10 mayonnaise based atrocities.
Y’all’s churches were weird. Growing up catholic in a German part of America we just did fish fries with beer battering and pig roasts, both with copious beer, though the kids had to stick to a single sip of wine. My wife’s catholic upbringing was more Italian American and her church did meatballs in tomato sauce.
I’ve always thought this was some sort of mass hysteria. Who ate any of that stuff and thought “oh, hell yeah, so good”? Who would make it twice? Let alone more?
I once read a theory that those recipes were a form of protest by women in the 1950s-60s. "I can’t get a divorce, have my own bank account, or get a credit card? Then enjoy this jello, mayonnaise hotdog salad motherfucker. "
I’ve always figured it was a remnant from the depression that overstayed it’s welcome. A lot of those horrid old recipes feel like some of the old depression recipes with too many resources, like buying up all the potions ingredients in Skyrim to make random shit. Hope you like 33 flavors of damage stamina and damage health.
I still can’t do potlucks because my parents forced me to eat all sorts of random bullshit at the church potluck, because they felt like being seen eating someone’s dish conferred some weird church status.
“Go over and tell Miss Borley how much you liked her chicken liver and salmon casserole.”
On the other hand, this also contributed to my powerful disdain for church, so I guess that’s something. The only way out is through… a senile lady’s disgusting casserole, or something.
I was a stubbornly picky eater. So thankfully my parents never made me do that, as I would have simply accepted a punishment rather than take a bite of any of that shit.
Get Pillsbury biscuit dough, slap down one, slap down mozzarella, marinara, pepperoni/sausage, slap down another biscuit over top, do this 12 times, cover and bake.
Sorta like a poor man’s calzone… or, arguably, they’re just super sized pizza pockets.
Don’t pair well with grape juice imo, but they were honestly pretty good.
We did eventually get an Italian soda station bar type thing, no clue if we just aped that from the Mormons or came up with it independently.
Apparently I missed out. Post church social time was coffee and pastries. The big meals were normal (turkey with mash, green beans, and cranberry sauce, for example).
Church potluck every Sunday when I was a kid. A whole buffet line of jello based not dessert dishes. Usually peas in green jello, shredded carrots in orange jello,or hotdog in jello abominations. If not jello, there were at least 10 mayonnaise based atrocities.
I ate a lot of dinner rolls.
Y’all’s churches were weird. Growing up catholic in a German part of America we just did fish fries with beer battering and pig roasts, both with copious beer, though the kids had to stick to a single sip of wine. My wife’s catholic upbringing was more Italian American and her church did meatballs in tomato sauce.
Ha. I know where you went to church.
Probably. Because we were there together. I think. Those were nasty jellos
I’ve always thought this was some sort of mass hysteria. Who ate any of that stuff and thought “oh, hell yeah, so good”? Who would make it twice? Let alone more?
I once read a theory that those recipes were a form of protest by women in the 1950s-60s. "I can’t get a divorce, have my own bank account, or get a credit card? Then enjoy this jello, mayonnaise hotdog salad motherfucker. "
I’ve always figured it was a remnant from the depression that overstayed it’s welcome. A lot of those horrid old recipes feel like some of the old depression recipes with too many resources, like buying up all the potions ingredients in Skyrim to make random shit. Hope you like 33 flavors of damage stamina and damage health.
Mayonnaise PLUS jello, with hotdogs. Perfect.
I still can’t do potlucks because my parents forced me to eat all sorts of random bullshit at the church potluck, because they felt like being seen eating someone’s dish conferred some weird church status.
“Go over and tell Miss Borley how much you liked her chicken liver and salmon casserole.”
On the other hand, this also contributed to my powerful disdain for church, so I guess that’s something. The only way out is through… a senile lady’s disgusting casserole, or something.
“Go over and tell Miss Borley how much you liked her chicken liver and salmon casserole.”
Okay, Mommy!
goes over and vomits all over Miss Borley
Sometimes the holy spirit just moves through you.
Nah, that’s the liver.
I was a stubbornly picky eater. So thankfully my parents never made me do that, as I would have simply accepted a punishment rather than take a bite of any of that shit.
God, I feel for you folk. When my parents forced me to try something, it was like sushi, fried okra, or pesto.
In defense of my old church:
Pizza biscuits.
Get Pillsbury biscuit dough, slap down one, slap down mozzarella, marinara, pepperoni/sausage, slap down another biscuit over top, do this 12 times, cover and bake.
Sorta like a poor man’s calzone… or, arguably, they’re just super sized pizza pockets.
Don’t pair well with grape juice imo, but they were honestly pretty good.
We did eventually get an Italian soda station bar type thing, no clue if we just aped that from the Mormons or came up with it independently.
Dude! We made those exact pizzas as kids after temple. They were quite good.
Ahem.
Cheesus Crust.
That is all.
I would have eaten those for sure.
Apparently I missed out. Post church social time was coffee and pastries. The big meals were normal (turkey with mash, green beans, and cranberry sauce, for example).
But I’ve read the cookbooks.