Each family has one…
In our family, my mother served Orange Glark, a formed Jell-O side dish that showed up on the Thanksgiving table right nearby the turkey and stuffing. Its quality wasn’t addressed, or even truly examined. In its 20-year residency as a normal, nobody at any point articulated, “I love the amazing way the brilliance of the canned pineapple and mandarin orange lumps suspended inside this Jell-O so superbly appear differently in relation to the wealth of the turkey’s sauce” or pondered so anyone might hear, “For what reason is this even called Glark?”
Despite the dish’s nostalgic essentialness in our family, nobody appears to know the response to that question. All we know is that my mother, who experienced childhood in Very West Western Pennsylvania — nearly the Midwest, where Jell-O dishes were once mainstream — got the formula from an old companion during the 70s, and made constantly it. At any rate until her kids and grandkids began great naturedly simmering her for it.
What’s more, presently, in an incredibly unexpected plot turn, I miss that Glark horribly! It’s what made our family’s dining experience our own special.