Jell-O takes the cake at St. Winifred
No one expects to walk out of a fish fry recovering from a sugar coma, but that’s what happened after sampling the desserts at St. Winifred Church in Mt. Lebanon.
Tiring of the salty, buttery flavors that so many dishes bring at a typical fish fry, my sweet adventure began when I saw a girl and her father at the entrance selling the last boxes of the seasonal addiction known as Girl Scout cookies. Sure, I ate a fish sandwich and cheesy macaroni, but I purposefully saved room after seeing a 15-foot dessert table that seemed all the more appetizing after buying a box of Samoas.
Coconut on the brain, I purchased two desserts: a custardy slice of coconut cream pie and a delectable piece of blueberry-lemon tart. As the drink station allowed me to switch between my beverage from iced tea (a lemony pairing for the fried fish) to coffee, I sat down to a nearly empty table to allow my taste buds to juggle the contrasting flavors. Apparently, I looked a little lonely.
A man who later identified himself as Paul handed me a newspaper clipping and said, “Check that out! Isn’t it neat?” I was partly dismayed it wasn’t our publication, but nevertheless, an interesting article. It was a story about the Solar Impulse 2, an aircraft that runs solely on the sun’s rays. Too interesting to pass up, too dense to read now, I put it in my open camera bag. Paul circled back around and snatched it from my man purse. “Hey! That’s not for you to have! Other people might want to read it!” He took the clipping and handed it to another table with the same rehearsed line. In sharing and taking an article within minutes, the man had figured out a simple and low-tech form of social media that I don’t think Facebook or Twitter has a handle on: complete editorial control!
The friendly acquaintances didn’t stop there, as a family of four saddled up next to my dessert sprawl on the table. “Those look good, but have you had the Jell-O cake?” asked Scott Toney, a father of two from Castle Shannon.
“Yeah, you should try it. We’ve been back four times. The fish is delicious, but what really gets us here is the Jell-O cake,” he said.
I thought I reached my quota, the coconut cream pie, its whipped topping a welcome exchange for the usual meringue; the tart’s blueberries bursting with its citrus-sweet yellow cake enrobed in icing. How could I go on to something as bold as Jell-O cake? Cue baker of Jell-O cake.
Perhaps clairvoyant, perhaps talking too loudly, Darlene Vitmeir came over to explain the Jell-O cake concept.
“As you bake a yellow or white cake, pour Jell-O mix in holes you knifed into the cake. Once it comes out, you ice it with a thin layer of vanilla pudding and then a final layer of Cool Whip,” she said.
All these brands, I had to accurately report them, but it gave me pause how much brands have, well, branding on lock. Kleenex is a perfectly synonymous term for facial tissue, and Jell-O, well, what else would you call it? Cherry gelatin dessert? Too obtuse. As for Cool Whip, the non-dairy whipped topping, it calls up a divisiveness seldom seen outside of beltway politics. Like coconut cream pie, it’s not necessarily the flavor, it’s the consistency. Myself a whipped cream fan, I took my first bite with equal parts apprehension, excitement and sadness (this would be the fourth dessert I’d eaten).
It was delicious. The cherry gelatin soaked through the cake in an attractive marbling pattern that gave way to a cool taste sensation similar to sugar-free gum. The texture was light and fluffy, and the two layers of different frosting complimented the spongey goodness. Color me converted skeptic.