Carrot and Macaroni Salad

Carrot and Macaroni Salad is basic. You would expect to find it or a variation thereof on dinner tables across the Midwest, or on buffets at Church suppers, or as the dish someone brings to your house after you have suffered a loss. Looking into the noodley-creaminess with flecks of bright orange, you expect to be somewhat underwhelmed, but comforted by the flavors.

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Let’s discuss expectations.

We all have them, even when we think we don’t. When we feel delighted it’s because something met or exceeded our expectations and disappointment is caused by our expectations not being met. Frequently, it’s not even our expectations that matter, but it’s the expectations others have of us.

Why do I bother explaining this when people are simply looking for a recipe? It’s because Carrot and Macaroni Salad defies expectations.

In previous posts about gelatin, we have discussed how my gelled dessert experience was nearly ruined by old ladies who sadistically topped fruity desserts with a thick, creamy layer of…mayonnaise.

Carrot and Macaroni salad has a similar creamy surprise, except in this case, you expect the creaminess to be mayonnaise and instead it is mayonnaise combined with an entire can of sweetened condensed milk and a 1/4 cup of sugar. It is tempered a little with the addition of onion and vinegar, but not much.

This dish dares you to make it.

“It can’t be that bad,” you say to yourself as you whisk together the dressing.

“This is a lot of vegetables,” you reason as you chop.

“Everyone likes pasta salad.” you reassure yourself as you set the dish on the table.

You may even call your mom for reassurance before dinner is actually served.

“Oh, I remember that salad,” she might say, “I’ll be interested to hear what you think of it.”

You prepare everyone. “This is one of great-grandma’s recipes. Nana says she’d like me to take a picture of everyone as they try it. This is going to be fun. Even if someone spits it out, everyone needs to try it because Nana really wants pictures.”

(I did not include the family pictures in this post, but I did send them to my mother)

Your daughter takes her first bite. She has fewer preconceived notions about what pasta salad should be than anyone else. She smiles. You snap the pic.

Next is your husband. You manage a picture of his grimace as the first bite touches his tongue.

Neither of your sons attempts to hide their reactions. Nana is getting great footage.

Finally, it’s your turn. It is in that moment that you wish you had a dog.

The cloying sweetness invades your mouth and coats your tongue.

“At least I cooked the noodles well” you think as you bite down into a perfectly cooked macaroni.

The carrot is less sweet than the dressing and provides a pleasing crunch. Green pepper’s astringency strips the top layer of frosting from your tongue allowing the flavors of onion and vinegar to penetrate.

It’s like a barn dance in your mouth. Your chews emulate the stomping of feet and the flavors swirl like a do-si-do.

The side of your mouth tilts up as your brain processes, but only one side.

It is not the worst thing you’ve eaten. It’s somewhat palatable and you even understand what the recipe originator was trying to do. However, it doesn’t conform to more modern ways of vegetable prep. It’s heavy.

After dinner that evening, as we cleaned the kitchen. “Hey, what container should I put the salad in?” one of my boys asked.

“The garbage can” my husband and I replied in unison. “No one is going to eat that.”

The Recipe:

For much better side dishes, try Unexpected Side Dish: Sour Cream Lima Beans, Pistachio Salad, and French Potato Salad for an Elegant Picnic