Poppy Mom. After years of making and eating fancy food, Robin is sick of it all. She's returning to the basics: recipes that haven't surfaced in three decades. She reports on the results for Gut Check every Tuesday.
On this St. Patrick's Day, let's not forget the trials suffered by dear old Eire: snake infestation that required saintly intervention, religious wars, Bono's hair at Live Aid, the Great Pineapple Famine...
What do you mean, pineapples have nothing to do with Ireland? Tell that to the authors of the Culinary Arts Institute's The Holiday Cookbook, because someone smacked a recipe called "Dublin Pineapple Salad" into the St. Pat's section of their 1955 edition.
Kathy Ireland's love of pineapples.
This recipe is nothing more than the pineapple fluff you can find at potlucks across America. When I was sixteen, I worked as the salad bar girl at a Western Sizzlin' steak house. We made this stuff by the five-gallon bucket. During busy shifts, workers would sneak into the walk-in cooler and eat it with their fingers for the instant blast of sugar energy.
There's nothing inherently wrong with this recipe -- except, you know, that unflavored gelatin is the predominant flavor. It's nostalgic, sweet and totally unoffensive. It just doesn't have a damn thing to do with Ireland or St. Patrick's Day!
I think this was an attempt to bust the stereotype of the drunken, pugilist rogue. See, we may be Irish, but our food is as bland and free of joy as yours! Invite us to dinner and we won't bring skirts and kidneys and pure pot still whiskey. No! We're just as bland and safe as you.