I’ve been working about 60-70 hours a week between two jobs for the last month. Which means I have cooked two whole meals in that time, and I have very few new reviews for you, and a slew of old ones.
But I’d like to talk for a minute about the mystery of Jell-o.
The Staff Caf at the Big Blue Box (where I eat a lot of meals now, since employees get subsidized foods, yay!) has started serving cherry Jell-o in the salad bar.
Because you’re supposed to put it on top of your salad. Then cover it with ranch dressing.
Most of us just put it in a soup bowl by its lonesome and go to town. Mmmmm. Jell-o.
Mind you, before I was alerted to the fact that somehow our chefs make really, really good Jell-o, I hadn’t eaten any of the jiggly confection in, oh gosh, DECADES. But now? Can’t get enough of the stuff.
Does it activate a deep seated sense memory of childhood and security? Does its texture and flavor evoke everything that’s enjoyable about eating? Or is my body screamingly deficient in red food coloring and demanding more Jell-o to balance itself out?
