Cherry Gelatin Supreme

One week out. Sarah sent the first photo of the book in a store — shelved at the Bozeman co-op, face-out, in the food and cooking section between two books I've admired. I looked at the photo for a long time. The book exists in the world now in a way that is separate from me, which is the correct outcome and also slightly vertiginous. I made a thing and now the thing is on a shelf in a store where people I've never met can pick it up and read the back and decide. That's what writing is. You make something and then you let it go into a world where you have no jurisdiction over what happens next.

Tom called to say his copy sold out at the Denton County Library book sale in Billings — he'd donated five — and the library ordered ten more. He was deeply pleased about this in the way that Tom is pleased about things: quietly, with satisfaction rather than pride, the way a craftsman feels about work that is serving its function. I told him that meant people were reading it. He said "that was always the point."

I drove the new Tuesday route on Tuesday and did twelve horses, and between the fourth and fifth stop I had the thought — just a small, quiet thought — that my life is good. Not "good considering" or "good despite" or "good now that." Just good. The day was forty-eight degrees and partly cloudy and I had cold coffee in the truck and a full schedule and a book coming out in a week, and my father was at home and my brother was building something, and the thought arrived without ceremony: this is a good life. I held it for about thirty seconds and then went to shoe the next horse.

The garden is taking. Tomato plants showing new growth, squash seeds germinated, pole beans starting to climb the wire. The garden is the most patient argument I know of for the future. You plant things in May that you won't eat until August, in full confidence that August exists.

Rhubarb and strawberry crisp this week — the first of the year, the beginning of the fruit season. The rhubarb tart and the strawberries still small but sweet, with the oat topping that crisps up in the oven. I ate it warm with cream and thought: May is exactly what May is supposed to be.

The crisp was the meal’s ending, but the week called for something that could carry that same layered feeling — fruit and cream and sweetness all working together — into the next gathering. This Cherry Gelatin Supreme has been in the rotation since before I can remember, and it fits a May evening the way that quiet satisfaction fits a good day: without fanfare, just rightness. When the book is on the shelf and the garden is climbing and the thought arrives that life is simply good, this is the kind of dessert that belongs on the table.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 4 hrs 20 min (includes chilling) | Servings: 12

Ingredients

2 packages (3 oz each) cherry gelatin
2 cups boiling water
1 can (21 oz) cherry pie filling
1 can (20 oz) crushed pineapple, undrained
1 package (8 oz) cream cheese, softened
1 cup sour cream
1/2 cup powdered sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup whipped topping or freshly whipped cream, for garnish

Instructions

Dissolve gelatin. In a large bowl, dissolve both packages of cherry gelatin in 2 cups of boiling water, stirring for at least 2 minutes until fully dissolved.
Add fruit. Stir in the cherry pie filling and undrained crushed pineapple until evenly combined.
Set the base layer. Pour the mixture into a 9x13-inch baking dish or serving dish. Refrigerate for 2 to 3 hours, or until firm.
Make the cream layer. Beat the softened cream cheese with an electric mixer until smooth. Add sour cream, powdered sugar, and vanilla extract, and beat until light and creamy with no lumps.
Spread and chill. Once the gelatin layer is fully set, spread the cream cheese mixture evenly over the top. Return to the refrigerator for at least 1 hour.
Garnish and serve. Before serving, top with whipped topping or freshly whipped cream. Cut into squares and serve cold.

Nutrition (per serving)

Cherry Gelatin Supreme — The Sweet Finish to a Week When Everything Felt Right