Ok, Silver Screenings, this one is for you.
Have you all met Silver Screenings? I love their blog. It’s funny and clever and does deep dives into some of my favorite old movies. They didn’t even ask me to write this or even know that I’m doing this, but I’m sure they would appreciate it you clicked over and checked them out. We bond over the classics. Their stars probably ate some of the food I write about. 
Recently Ruth told me that she would love to see more Jell-O recipes. Because I’m me, I happened to have this one ready to go in my archives. As soon as you are done reading about this, make a nice big bowl of Jell-O and sit down and enjoy an old movie for a very vintage experience. Just make sure your hair and lipstick are ready in case your husband comes home unexpectedly with his boss. You know how these things work.
Fluffy Orange Salad. It’s the hyper-pigmented fake orange creamy stuff dreams are made of. It’s Florida sunshine and with a smattering of clouds. Light, fluffy clouds. Let’s be honest, there is nothing healthy or wholesome about this “salad”. It’s canned and processed and better than it should be. I know it’s all artificial colors and flavors, but this isn’t bad stuff. There are reduced fat and sugar options for all of the ingredients, which almost makes this qualify as health food…right?
I’m not sure exactly where great-grandma got this recipe. Maybe it was part of a recipe exchange where they all typed out copies of their favorite recipes. That’s the story I like. I was intrigued by the name at the bottom “Pat Muchmore”. My head is in a space today where I first thought perhaps someone named Pat Muchmore would do a movie with Stormy Daniels and hesitated before I Googled the name hoping for more information. I’m guessing the 42 year old composer is not the author of this recipe, but I would like to imagine that the author of the bodice ripper is. It’s like a novel in and of itself. Iowa housewife secretly authors romance novels to escape her daily drudgery.
By now, I’m sure my poor mom is rolling her eyes and shaking her head at my silliness. Let’s blame overtiredness and whiskey slush. 