Yahoo Lifestyle I Made One of the 20th Century's Most Outrageous Recipes
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From celery suspended in electric-lime gelatin to spinach sprinkled with candied pecans, America has always loved a little sweetness in its salad recipes. But ambrosia salad takes the side dish — which typically functions as the healthiest thing at the table, or so I thought — to a new, sugar-loaded level. As someone with a serious sweet tooth, I knew that it was finally time for me to try this vintage recipe.
First, what is ambrosia salad?
The wildly colorful fruit mixture may be a staple at every one of your barbecues or, like me, you've never heard of it outside that one scene in Edward Scissorhands. Based on my research flipping through Good Housekeeping magazines from decades ago, ambrosia salad was popular in the late 1940s through the '80s, then tapered off in favor of the vegetable-forward, sensible salads of today.
Deep in the archives of the magazine, I discovered simple versions of ambrosia salad with fresh oranges, coconut and whipped cream and more elaborate takes with homemade custard sauce. Some recipes included prepared instant pudding; others called for canned pineapple. I found one 1952 rendition that combined mayonnaise, lemon juice and sugar with marshmallows, whipped evaporated milk, lettuce, pears and coconut. I'm not sure whether it's supposed to be sweet or savory — the only adjective used in the magazine to describe the recipe is "fluffy."
Oranges and coconut seem to be the main ingredients of ambrosia salad, with something creamy (mayo, evaporated milk, pudding, whipped cream or Cool Whip) to hold everything together. Marshmallows make a surprise appearance every so often.
A quick Google search reveals coconut-topped mountains of fruit and whipped cream tinted pink from maraschino cherries. Studded with mini marshmallows, these Wonka-esque bowls appear weightless. "Fluffy" indeed!
I made ambrosia salad from 1967 — here's what happened
After scouring dozens of ambrosia salads from decades of magazines and cookbooks, I landed on one decidedly tropical version from GH's 1967 cookbook, Perfect Parties. It goes by the name "Pineapple-Surprise Salad," but its main ingredients are oranges, pineapple, whipped cream, marshmallows and maraschino cherries. It's undoubtedly ambrosia-inspired.
The recipe calls for making a single-egg custard a day in advance to toss with the fruit mixture. However, I don't have the time or energy of a 1967 cook planning a party, so I skipped that step. The recipe also requires a hollowed pineapple as a serving vessel, which I decided was worth the effort.
After hacking away the inside of the fresh fruit, the rest of the recipe was easy.
Loosely following the suggested amounts of pineapple, oranges, grapes, bananas and maraschino cherries, I added all the ingredients to a bowl. I topped the medley with toasted almonds, shredded coconut, marshmallows and a few generous dollops of whipped cream. To someone who has never tasted ambrosia salad or anything like it, the mixture was borderline bonkers. I went in for a bite.
The verdict
Fruit swathed in whipped cream is nothing new. The same thing with pops of maraschino cherries and pillowy marshmallows is something entirely different. Served as a side dish at holidays and barbecues, where it shares a plate with fried chicken or glazed ham, is beyond explanation.
It's not the most amazing "salad" I've ever had, but I don't think that's the point. Ambrosia salad wows because it's unlike anything else on the table. It'll have guests asking "why?" and "how?" and "who brought this?" It's a showman offering pure, nostalgic fun.
I wouldn't make it again because it's something I crave (it's not). But it's worth trying next time a friend asks you to bring something — it might just be the hit of the party.
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