Frosted Orange-Apricot Jell-O Salad, Retro Recipe

It’s been a while since we’ve celebrated a retro Jell-O recipe here at the Op Op. I do not remember members of my family making this particular formulation, but I certainly remember it from miscellaneous childhood potlucks: church, Camp Fire, Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts, PTA, you name it, there were always Jell-O salads. And this is one.

It is most memorable, I think, because of the sprinkles of yellow cheese garnished on the top of the sweet “frosting” layer. What-the-whaaaat??? Yeah, mild cheddar, or American cheese, shredded up and sprinkled over the top of this otherwise sweet Jell-O salad. The only thing that seems to link the cheese with the rest of the dish is the color orange.

In fact, this dish is so orange, it could be a fine addition to your Halloween spread, especially if you sprinkled the cheese in, say, a Jack-o-lantern shape. (Now, there’s a thought, eh? . . . “Follow me for more cooking tips!”)

Searching my memories, I searched for this dessert all over the Internet. I settled on a formulation from a blog called “Pocket Change Gourmet.” . . . And then I discovered that it appears in a variety of church lady cookbooks, under a variety of names. (This is why pictures are worth a thousand words—I knew it when I saw it!)

The same basic recipe (albeit with plenty of variation) appears in my beloved Faith Lutheran Ladies Guild cookbook from 1975 under the names “Apricot Salad” (twice) “Frosted Apricot Salad,” and “Apricot Cheese Delight.” Apricots are actually the least notable of the ingredients, so no wonder it’s hard to find. Instead, what you notice most is the ORANGE JELL-O.

Here it is in a nutshell. It’s a two-layered Jell-O salad. Use a 9 x 13 inch dish. The bottom part is two small boxes of orange Jell-O with canned crushed pineapple and canned apricots, using the juice from the fruits as part of the cold water. Bonus points for letting the Jell-O set slightly before adding the fruit, so the fruit doesn’t all sink to the bottom. Then you add mini marshmallows on top, and you let it set completely (overnight).

The second layer is a little trickier. You make a pudding out of sugar, flour, egg, and orange juice; you heat it until it thickens; then you stir in some butter; then you let it cool a bit. Then you whip cream (or, some recipes call for Cool Whip, or whatever), then fold the pudding mixture into the whipped cream. You spread this over the gelled first layer. . . . And then you sprinkle on the shredded cheddar. Yep, wacky, wacky cheddar on the Jell-O salad.

Some of the variations involve whether or not to chop the canned apricots; whether to used pineapple chunks or crushed pineapple; whether to include canned mandarin orange slices; and, for the pudding layer, whether to use the juices from the canned fruit instead of the orange juice my version of the recipe calls for. You could omit the marshmallows, too—but why would anyone do that? And considering you’re using whipping cream, I’m not sure what the butter adds, either, except for more richness and calories.

Truly, the shredded cheese doesn’t taste particularly weird; it kinda tastes just tangy. In the 1970s, moms probably thought, “this cheese will give my family more protein and calcium in their diet! It’ll help them have strong teeth and bones!” (This is sounding like Halloween again, isn’t it.)

According to my memories, this was a very common Jell-O salad from the 1970s. At first, it may seem strange to have shredded cheese atop what would otherwise resemble a dessert. I guess it helps you pass it off as a “salad.” It also gives a visual interest to what would otherwise be a vast expanse of yellowish-white color across the 9 x 13 pan. Once again, the cheese tastes fine in this preparation. So don’t laugh. This is a doggone tasty Jell-O salad.

A few tips for preparing the topping/second layer: to prevent scorching, it’s best if you use a heavy saucepan when making the “pudding.” Keep in mind that the pudding will thicken more as it cools. Then, when it’s time to fold the cooled pudding into the whipped cream, fold it in properly. Review or learn the technique for folding, as in preparing a mousse or soufflé, if you’re not completely hip to this technique, so you can combine the two without losing the fluffiness of the whipped cream.

Jell-O salads have kind of gone out of style, but that’s too bad. Look, every time we make a good Jell-O salad, everyone loves it! We recently made this particular formulation for my dad’s birthday, and Mom really loved it. Dad just wrote to tell me so. So, give it a try. Have it for a side dish or as a dessert. You’ll love it, too.

A classic from the 1970s. A classic from my childhood.

Enjoy!

1970s Frosted Orange-Apricot Jell-O Salad with Cheese Sprinkles

Adapted from Pocket Change Gourmet, which states it’s an original family recipe from Lois Kimmel

Use a 13 x 9 inch glass pan; build in time (overnight) for the two layers to gel.

Ingredients, Layer 1

• 2 reg. boxes (or 1 large) orange Jell-O
• 2 cups boiling water
• 15 oz. can apricots, cut in small pieces, drained, reserving juice
• 20 oz. can crushed pineapple, drained, reserving juice
• 2 cups mini marshmallows (enough to mostly cover top of the Jell-O, or whatever you wish)

Ingredients, Layer 2

• ½ cup sugar
• 3 tbsp. flour
• 1 egg, beaten lightly
• 1 cup orange juice
• 2 tbsp. butter
• 1 cup whipping cream (heavy cream)
• approx. ½ cup grated or shredded cheese (use mild or medium cheddar, or American cheese)

Prepare Layer 1

In a large bowl, mix the Jell-O and 2 cups boiling water, stirring to dissolve. Add 1 cup of the reserved juices, stir, and place the bowl in the refrigerator for about 30 minutes, or until the Jell-O is thickened slightly (consistency of egg whites). Fold in the fruit and pour into a 13 x 9 inch glass (Pyrex) pan. Add the marshmallows on top. Put into the fridge until the gelatin is set (I recommend overnight).

Prepare Layer 2 and “Frost” the Jell-O Salad

In a small saucepan over medium heat, add combined sugar and flour, beaten egg, and orange juice. Whisk constantly, until it thickens. (Once it starts to thicken, it will thicken even more rather quickly and continue to thicken as it cools.) Add butter and stir until it’s melted. Remove from heat and let it cool, about 30 minutes. Beat the heavy cream until stiff peaks form; fold in the pudding mixture. Spread it onto Layer 1 of the Jell-O. Sprinkle the grated cheese on top. Return to refrigerator until serving time.

Remembering King’s Food Host, Columbia, Missouri

My purpose in this post is not to give the official history of this chain of family diners that operated in at least 17 states and in Canada in the 1950s, ’60s, and early ’70s. Let’s get the background info over with quickly. Indeed, if you want to learn more than I’ve already just said, I recommend the following:

—Randy Hoffman, “What Ever Happened to King’s Food Host?” at bismarckcafe.com, Dec. 14, 2009.

—Jan Whitaker, “Frenchies, Oui, Oui,” at Restaurant-ing through History, May 4, 2011.

There’s also a commemorative Facebook page, with loads of photos of King’s restaurants and King’s-belia: Kings Food Host—Home of the Cheese Frenchee.



From those websites, I gather that King’s focused on putting franchises in college towns (so our King’s in Columbia, Missouri, fit that pattern . . . though its location on Business Loop 70 made it a little far from campus, in the days when few students owned cars or lived off-campus).

I also read that cigarette machines (so ubiquitous in those days) were not allowed in King’s restaurants, because the owner didn’t want them there. Apparently he wanted to have a less smoky atmosphere in his family restaurant. (He was truly ahead of his time!)

Perhaps, with the college-town focus, he was thinking not so much of college students, but of smart young faculty members, like my father, juggling teaching, grading, research, and working toward tenure, and their families, who liked to go out to dinner occasionally, and who all would have preferred a nonsmoking restaurant.

Dining out was much less common then.

I was born in 1965, so nationwide, King’s was pretty much gone by the time I was ten. I vaguely remember when they closed in Columbia, driving past with my parents, staring out the window at the empty building, wondering what would become of it. Later, I saw it converted into a variety of other businesses. (Businesses I’ve never stepped foot in.)

The one in Columbia was ultimately torn down, but the concrete foundation is still there. A local bus/shuttle service has taken over the land and they park their big tour buses on the concrete pad where the restaurant once stood.



The metal roof for the drive-in portion remains. The shuttle company parks its vans and minibuses under it.



Anyway . . . see these links for photos of King’s restaurants during their heyday: one in Manhattan, Kansas, the other from Ames, Iowa. They’re both pretty close to what our Columbia King’s looked like—the textured horizontal roof treatment, the big yellow crown-shaped sign, the huge wall of windows across the front end of the building.

Personal Memories

My personal memories of King’s are rather fuzzy, but in many ways, they are especially nostalgic.

There was apparently a telephone at each booth for placing orders, which I don’t remember because my parents wouldn’t have let me do the ordering, and annoy a busy food-service worker with my soft, uncertain, hesitating delivery.

There was a similar ordering system in the drive-in parking behind the restaurant. The drive-in was a long, metal-roofed structure extending straight back from the restaurant, with parking spaces on either side. (Gosh! Remember how cars in the ’50s and ’60s had circular depressions on the inner surface of the glove compartment door, which always opened flat into a miniature table surface? The circles were designed as a place to set your Pepsi or milkshake while you ate in your car at the drive-in!)

We went to the King’s drive-in occasionally—I recall going there for lunch with Paul and my Mom.

But we went to King’s more often, I think, as the whole family, in the evenings, and we sat in the dining area. Interestingly, when I asked my parents recently about what they recalled of King’s on the Business Loop, they both drew a blank. I guess it made a far bigger impression on me!

Remember the crown logo and the gold, brown, and orange diamond motif? I recall the seats being orange—but that might be a false memory (specifically, mental pollution from listening to the snarky 1987 Uncle Bonsai song “Family Restaurant,” which recalls “rolling hills of orange Naugahyde”).

I remember walking in the door, which was on the east side of the building. The restaurant was fairly brightly lit with florescent ceiling fixtures. To me as a little kid, the place seemed huge, and kind of magical.

Yes: that big, open dining area, with large plate-glass windows facing Business Loop 70. At that time, the Business Loop was full of family-friendly food places, such as Columbia’s Zesto, a Dog ’n’ Suds, and the city’s first McDonald’s. . . . Was all the seating at King’s at booths? I think it must have been, since the telephone was key for ordering. But maybe they had a row of stools along a counter, however.

Here’s a picture of the inside of a King’s in Lincoln, Nebraska.

I remember it being a fairly quiet restaurant, though since I was a child that memory could also be skewed. Let’s put it this way: I’m sure it was a great place for parents to bring young kids who were still learning to behave like little ladies and gentlemen when dining in public.

I’m sure I must have requested other foods at times—chili dogs, for example, and little chocolate sundaes, and, when I was really little, I must have had the “Kiddie Platter”—but what sticks in my mind, as my very favorite, is the “Cheeseburger Platter.”

I still can’t say “Cheeseburger Platter” without feeling a huge, silly grin blooming inside me. On the King’s memorial Facebook page, someone posted a menu revealing that the Cheeseburger Platter came “with cole slaw, golden French fries, and onion rings.” . . . Yep, yep! That’s what I remember. That menu, from who knows when (the early ’70s, I’ll bet), gives the cost of the Cheeseburger Platter as $1.10. Oh, and I remember having an orange drink with it. (Ha! An “orange drink”! Remember that stuff? And those gigantic clear, cubical drink dispensers every restaurant used to have, with the lemonade or “orange drink” sloshing around inside? So tempting! And hey, I was, like, seven.)

I also recall the food being served on actual cafeteria-style china dishware.

The button I photographed at the top of this post was undoubtedly given to me (and Paul must’ve gotten one, too) by a server, to reward me for “cleaning my plate,” which was something all kids were strongly encouraged to do back then. (As with about every other paragraph in this post, please join me in a resounding: “Boy, times have sure changed!”)

Regarding the Famous “Cheese Frenchee” Sandwich

Many people fondly remember King’s “Cheese Frenchee” sandwiches, but I don’t recall them. Because I was pretty young, I suspect my parents, thinking of my health, had guided me away from them. The Cheese Frenchee, a King’s signature dish, was a midcentury, midwestern, family-restaurant version of the famous French croque-monsieur. There are lots of recipes approximating this popular King’s menu item; here are some:

—At Studio1430.com, there is a cheese frenchee recipe purportedly from a former employee at King’s.

—Pam Patterson, “Recipe: Cheese Frenchees,” at latimes.com.

—R_Mess, “Cheese Frenchee” at food.com.

Interestingly, there are still some King’s restaurants that remain as restaurants, operating under different names, but in many ways similar, including, with some, the tableside telephones for ordering; one is The Wood House Restaurant, in Bismarck, North Dakota; another is the Pantry Family Restaurant, in Boise, Idaho.

. . . Hmm. Suddenly, I’m thinkin’: ROAD TRIP!

Cheese Haven, Port Clinton, Ohio

Though we live in Missouri, Sue and I make it at least once a year to Cheesehaven—preferably before the holidays, so we can stock up on goodies for our entertaining. And in our checked luggage, we always smuggle back to Missouri a couple pounds of extra sharp, ten- or eleven-year-old white cheddar, some smoked fish, and a bierwurst.

(When we’re in northern Ohio, we also try to make it to the Vermilion Farm Market, which I’ve told you about before.)

Why am I writing about northern Ohio, in a blog by a Missouri gal? (1) Because it’s where Sue’s from, and we go there often to visit her family. It’s part of our life, and this blog is about our shenanigans. (Yes?) (2) Because northern Ohio’s a great place to visit. (3) Because I’m trying to reinforce a general point, here, about celebrating local businesses and local flavors. (4) And because the Midwest isn’t as lame and homogenized as the TV makes it out to be.

To be honest, the first time I saw a billboard for Cheese Haven (though the logo closes it up as “Cheesehaven,” I think it’s technically two words), I figured it was some kind of tourist-trap cheese outlet filled with lots of ultraprocessed and rubbery, flavorless cheeses for the masses. And lots of nightmare salty jerky. They’re right on a highway exit! In other words, because I read Gourmet magazine and watched the Food Network, I figured I was more classy than Cheese Haven.




I was wrong. There are treasures at Cheese Haven for every culinary taste, from the common to the extraordinary. And if you are looking for some local specialties, you can find them here. (Well, okay, if you’re vegan, you’re probably out of luck. But I digress.)

Here’s What They Carry

Cheese, and lots of it. I’m partial to the aged white cheddar, but there is much more. They’re famous for their smoked cheese, and they have a large selection of flavored types (salami, garlic, hot pepper, and caraway cheeses, for example); standard varieties such as Swiss, Colby, bleu, Gouda, Muenster, and Brie; and a growing list of imported cheeses. They usually have samples available (though I don’t think you’re supposed to make a free meal out of it).

Sausage, meats, and smoked fish. Their beef snack sticks are quite popular, and these make “Slim Jims” seem like parts of a brine-soaked old shoe. Which is to say, the beef snack sticks are actually quite meaty and delicious.




They carry a full line of deli meats, but perhaps the most notable is the store’s own bierwurst, which is made locally for Cheese Haven, using a family recipe that’s been used by the store since it opened in 1949. (It reminds me a lot of the Hott & Asel “baloney,” or garlic sausage, that my own neighborhood association has had made up, based on another vintage recipe, and sold as a fund-raiser.) I think the bierwurst is just the kind of thing you need at your New Year’s Eve party.




And the smoked fish is something we don’t get much around here in Missouri. Until I went to Cheese Haven, the only smoked fish I knew was the raw-looking salmon type—basically lox. But this is the dry-smoked stuff, and although it looks rather creepy and mummified, it is absolutely delicious! It’s intensely flavorful. It’s generally local fish from Lake Erie. Cheese Haven always has some kind of smoked fish available, though the types vary by season. The smoked catfish, for instance, is only available in the spring.

I particularly love the smoked trout and salmon. When I’m feeling decadent, I’ll make a quick pâté out of a bit of it (crumbled) beaten into some cream cheese and chopped shallot. Triscuits really love that kind of thing!

Condiments and relishes. Here again, it’s local. They sell their own brand of mustard, made in the store, as well as the complete line of Woeber’s mustards (from Springfield, Ohio). They also sell “Perfetto” marinara sauce from Sloopy’s Sports Café, a popular area restaurant. And there are jams and jellies, salsas, hot sauces, relishes, and pickles. And pickled eggs!

Wines. Cheese and sausage lead naturally to wine, and northern Ohio is a major grape- and wine-producing region. There are several small wineries on the Lake Erie islands and on the mainland, producing decent reds, cool, rich whites that make you truly appreciate the very soul of the grape, and sweet, regal ice wines. And if you’re not into wines, Cheese Haven sells other beverages, as well.

Candy. I usually don’t spend a lot of time in the candy section of Cheese Haven, but I need to point out that they have lots of candy you don’t find much anymore, including penny candy. They have every flavor of saltwater taffy imaginable, including sassafras! They have lots of old-fashioned candy, too. You can see why I avoid this section—it’s the only way I stand a chance!




Well! It’s looking more and more like a picnic, isn’t it! When I was there last week, I asked them if a lot of their business comes from Cedar Point tourism (Cedar Point is a huge amusement park near Sandusky). And they said that most of their tourism-related business is with people headed to the Lake Erie islands: Put-In Bay and Kelley’s Island, for example, plus local tourism for the Marblehead area, famous for its picturesque historic lighthouse.




This part of northern Ohio is branded to tourists as “America’s North Coast,” and it’s a good slogan. Boating, fishing, and swimming are big draws here. Put-In Bay, on South Bass Island, is a magnet all by itself. People take ferries to the island from Port Clinton, then rent golf carts or bicycles to get around on the island. Put-In Bay’s big lovely waterside park and its many cozy vacation cottages beg for you to bring along a cooler with bread, cheese, sausage, and wine. Which naturally leads you to Cheese Haven!




You might think that, like other businesses that cater to a tourist market, Cheese Haven might close during the off-season—but no way! They’re open year-round; they are closed Mondays and Tuesdays, but they certainly don’t shut down for the winter. (Hey, they have to stay open in order to sell you goodies for the holidays!)

The Cheese Haven Story

When we were there just after Thanksgiving, we noticed a sign that said “Under New Management.” We didn’t see the sign until we were exiting the parking lot on our way back home, so that night the clan sat around and discussed what might have happened at this landmark local business.

I was wondering, too, so I called to get the low-down. Here’s what I found out. Cheese Haven opened in 1949. Its original location was at Old Route 2 and State Route 53. A decade later, it moved to a location that was right across the street from where it is now. In 1989, Cheese Haven moved to its current address.

All those years, it was owned by the same fellow: Richard Brassel, who is called “Pops” by all the locals. He is the father of Tom Geisheimer, who, with his wife, Lisa, recently bought the business. Thus it remains a family-owned store! APPARENTLY I got this wrong--see the comments below! Needless to say, there's been a change in management, but apparently it's still locally run. (—JS, 6-24-11)

We did notice a few changes—most obviously in signage—but you can expect to see some other changes as well. They will be increasing the number of imported cheeses, for example. One thing you won’t see is a big turnover in staff: in this family-run business, the longtime workers are friendly with the owners, and a feeling of mutual goodwill prevails. Alas, alack, apparently I was wrong here, as well. Again, see the comments below.




One More Thing

They sell by mail order, yes they do! You can find Cheese Haven online here. They sell their cheese and sausages individually, plus they also offer gift baskets—combinations of goodies at reasonable prices. If you don’t see it online, give them a call—I’m betting they’ll ship it to you.

Why I Care

If you’re a regular reader, you already know what I’m going to tell you: Please support your local, family-run businesses. They are treasures, full of color and community pride, home of the American Dream. Even if they’re quirky places at times, they nevertheless have genuine character and a commitment to their community. Whether it’s Cheese Haven or another mom-and-pop shop just two blocks away from you, don’t let Walmart and its faceless international corporate cronies squeeze them out of the ring.

Positive Reinforcement

Sue and I spent a good deal of time this past weekend preparing our tax information for our accountant, and we got our materials sent off this afternoon. Hooray! The annual dreaded chore is done. And it isn’t even April!

I’ve been the worst kind of procrastinator when it comes to taxes, but this year I decided it was important for me to get my act together, especially now that I’m a freelancer and I need to start paying estimated, quarterly taxes. (“Estimated” here equals “stab in the dark.”)

So to reward myself for good behavior, tonight I finally opened that tin of foie gras we bought in Paris. To be specific, it was a bloc de foie gras d’oie trufflé (according to the packaging)—a small loaf of goose liver foie gras with truffles. Oh, man, was it delicious. Vaguely like a braunschweiger . . . one that’s graduated from divinity school. Or no: It is to braunschweiger as fresh butter is to hamburger grease.

Okay, yes, I know how they make foie gras. But I’m willing to enjoy it once in a while, giving thanks for the birds that suffered for my pleasure. And I hope that Tyson never, ever gets into the foie gras–making business, because then the perversion would truly begin, and it would be time to riot in the streets on behalf of duck and goose rights.

It was nice and warm today, sunny, but it was quite windy—gusts in the 40 mph range—and it made our windows rattle. We would have opened the windows a little bit, but we didn’t want our stuff blowing around inside the house like a snow globe. (Taxes, remember?)

So we took our foie gras dinner out on the sun porch, since it’s drafty and sunny out there, enough to make us feel like we were having an outdoor picnic. Or, un pique-nique, en français. Fresh and dried fruits, some plain crackers, some taramosalata, and a small sampling of really special cheeses: Parrano Uniekaas Dutch cheese, which we found at Whole Foods; a seeming cross between an aged parmesan and a fine gouda. A seductive sweet, salty, nutty blend. Then also, two flavored cheeses we got recently from the World Harvest international grocery in Columbia: One with cumin seeds, the other with green peppercorns.

It was all so very good, to sit there on the comfy old sofa next to Sue, as the sun was getting low in the sky, as we nibbled on all this delectable fare. Even the “Fre” wine we were sharing seemed okay. (Nonalcoholic wines have a long way to go to catch up with the flavor of n/a beers. But until they do, the “Chardonnay” by Fre is about the best of the bunch. Drink it out of a nice glass. That improves the flavor. It really does.)

Well, there’s not a lot to report, other than the taxes being sent off to our accountant ahead of the very last minute, and that’s good reason to celebrate.