Jazzy Gelatin — Something Cool and Unbothered at the End of a Louisiana Week

Father's Day. Daddy on the porch with a brisket on the smoker.

Crawfish boil at a friend's place Saturday. Twenty-five pounds. The shells filled three trash bags. Standard Louisiana spring. We sat at the picnic table for four hours. The corn was the best of the boil. The corn always is.

Reading something light at night. A novel by a Louisiana writer. The voice was familiar. The voice was home. The book ended on a small kindness. I appreciated that.

MawMaw Shirley's recipe cards in the wooden box on the kitchen counter. I copied another one Saturday morning at her kitchen table. The collection is growing. She watched me copy. She corrected my Cs. She has always corrected my Cs.

Tanya brought a casserole over Wednesday. The Tanya casserole. Half went into the freezer. The other half fed me Wednesday and Thursday. Mama's casseroles are the silent backup of my entire adult life.

The apartment kitchen is small but it cooks. Two burners. One pot. A cutting board balanced on the counter because the counter is too small for both the cutting board and the toaster.

I drove past the gas station where DeAndre died. I do not stop. I do not avoid it either. The drive past is the drive past. He is twenty-eight in my head. He stays twenty-eight.

DeAndre's birthday came around again. I made his favorite — andouille and chicken in brown gravy. I ate two bowls. I called Aunt Renee. We did not say much. We did not need to. The food was the saying.

Anatomy lab three days this week. The cadaver work is what they say it is — not gross, not romantic, just human. I went home after Friday lab and made gumbo because the only thing that quiets the body after a day in the lab is the slow stir of a roux.

I went to the gym Tuesday and Thursday this week. Twenty minutes on the treadmill. Standard. The body is the only equipment I have for the rest of my life and I am trying to maintain it.

Friday night Darius and I watched a movie I have already forgotten. We fell asleep on the couch by ten. The dog (we got a dog last year, did I mention) slept between us. Standard.

Daddy sent me an Amazon receipt accidentally Sunday. He bought a power tool I do not understand. Standard. He texted twenty minutes later, "wrong thread, sorry baby." I told him don't worry about it. He said thank you. The exchange was the exchange.

Sunday service at Bethany. The choir sang. The pastor preached on Hannah and Samuel. I sat with Tanya and Marcus. The hymn at the end was the one Mama used to hum. I cried into the bulletin. Standard.

I texted Kayla about her latest design portfolio Tuesday. She is good. She has Tanya's directness and Daddy's eye for proportion. The design field will know her name eventually.

Daddy called Sunday afternoon. He is sixty-something and his knees are still bad and he still has not gotten the second one replaced. I am working on him. He is working on me to stop working on him. We are at an impasse. The impasse is the love.

Driving past the Scotlandville house Sunday afternoon, the one Daddy rebuilt after the flood. The house is solid. The house is the house. I see the watermark from the flood every time I look at the foundation. We do not paint over it. We let it tell the story.

I sat on the porch Saturday afternoon with iced tea. The neighbor's kids were playing kickball. The Louisiana evening is its own kind of Sabbath. The cicadas were starting up. The light was the gold-going-blue light of the southern dusk.

By Saturday afternoon — after the anatomy lab, after DeAndre’s birthday dinner, after the Sunday hymn that made me cry into the bulletin — I was sitting on the porch with iced tea watching the neighbor’s kids play kickball, and I did not want to cook anything hard. MawMaw Shirley brings her Jazzy Gelatin to every family gathering: cool, bright, sweet without asking anything of you. I copied her recipe card for it months ago, and that Saturday evening I finally made it myself, in my small apartment kitchen, on two burners that did not even need to turn on. Some weeks the food that holds you is the easy one.

Jazzy Gelatin

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 4 hours (includes chilling) | Servings: 10

Ingredients

• 2 packages (3 oz each) flavored gelatin (raspberry, cherry, or strawberry)
• 2 cups boiling water
• 1 1/2 cups cold water
• 1 can (8 oz) crushed pineapple, well drained
• 1 cup sliced fresh strawberries or maraschino cherries, halved
• 1 cup frozen whipped topping, thawed
• 1/2 cup mini marshmallows (optional)
• Additional whipped topping and fruit, for garnish

Instructions

1. Dissolve the gelatin. Pour both packages of gelatin into a large mixing bowl. Add boiling water and stir continuously for about 2 minutes, until the gelatin is completely dissolved with no granules remaining.
2. Add cold water. Stir in the cold water. Mix well to combine. Set the bowl aside.
3. Partial chill. Refrigerate the gelatin mixture for approximately 1 hour and 30 minutes, until it reaches a soft-set consistency — it should look like loose egg whites and mound slightly on a spoon.
4. Fold in the fruit. Remove the bowl from the refrigerator. Gently fold the drained crushed pineapple and sliced strawberries (or cherries) into the partially set gelatin until evenly distributed.
5. Fold in the whipped topping. Add the thawed whipped topping and mini marshmallows if using. Fold gently until just combined — do not overmix. The mixture will look creamy and pale.
6. Transfer and set. Pour the mixture into a lightly greased 9x13-inch baking dish or a decorative 2-quart mold. Smooth the top with a spatula.
7. Final chill. Refrigerate for at least 3 hours, or until the gelatin is fully firm and holds its shape when cut.
8. Serve. Cut into squares directly from the dish, or if using a mold, briefly dip the outside in warm water and invert onto a serving plate. Garnish with additional whipped topping and fresh fruit before serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 115 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 2g | Carbs: 23g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 75mg