Maybe it’s because the best part about showing up at Grandma’s every summer was the orange jello, loaded with grapes, apples and bananas, topped with marshmallows and served on iceberg lettuce as “salad.” Or maybe its because at my Grandpa’s funeral there were at least five multi-colored wibbly masses on rickety card tables in the church basement. Whatever the reason, I want every single thing in this article on Mormon food. Right now.
(Also, what does it say about the Atlantic’s readership that they have to explain jell-o salads, potato casseroles and extra-meat burgers? Have these people never been off the coasts?)