Watergate Salad, Shut the Gate Salad, Green Stuff, Pink Stuff, Orange Stuff, Mean Green, Golden Gate Salad, Goop, Fluff, Pistachio Delight.
These were the words that set the hook when I started researching what I have come to call, affectionately (but perhaps a bit cruelly), the Great American Trash Salad.
As a child, I refused this congealed thing, this mysterious orb-studded concoction in various colors of shame and regret. It confused me. I didn’t appreciate that it was being sold as a “salad” when it was clearly a dessert. And like any decent, card-carrying child with opinions, I was not fond of mixing my food. This liar of a salad was basically my worst nightmare.
Thankfully, the Great American Trash Salad made only a few appearances as I grew up. When it did grace the table, I was quick to disavow its presence,
