Bring Back Watergate Salad, You Cowards

Even if you’ve never been to a Thanksgiving dinner in the South, you probably have an idea of what you’d see on the table: piping hot cornbread, the cheesiest macaroni ever, and mashed potatoes swimming in butter. And you’d be right, by the way, but you’d be missing the star of the show. You see, while some families might serve a “real” Thanksgiving salad with greens, crisp pears, and candied pecans, Thanksgiving in the deep South is simply not complete without Watergate salad (or ambrosia salad, or Jell-O salad... there are levels to this sh*t). It’s a throwback dish that, unlike the weird gelatin molds with hot dogs inside, is a food from yesteryear that actually tastes divine, and I think it’s poised for a comeback.

I grew up seeing green Jell-O salad on the table at my grandma’s house each year — she was from West Virginia, and we spent most of my childhood in Georgia and Florida, where yes, Jell-O salads are still a staple at church and holiday potlucks. Hers was a blend of lime gelatin, crushed pineapple, and cream cheese, poured into a baking dish and topped with mini marshmallows to gel up. My mom says Mimi first found her recipe in something like Woman’s Day or Good Housekeeping, which she would page through while waiting around at my great-grandmother’s beauty shop. The dish wobbles a little funny when you set it down, but it’s pretty tasty if you’re willing to tuck into it.

After my parents split, my dad met a woman he’d spend the next five or so years with, and we were welcomed into her family’s — all Florida natives — Thanksgiving that first holiday season. Three massive folding tables lined the walls of Memaw’s dining room, laden with all kinds of steaming sides and heaps of meat, and one curious bowl of green fluff topped with cherries. Not the Jell-O salad I was used to, but it sure looked like a relative. I turned to my dad in line behind me and asked what it could be, and we both had to ask around a bit before learning its name: Watergate salad. One bite and I was hooked — it was pineapple-y like Mimi’s Jell-O salad, but with enough crunch to satisfy thanks to the chopped nuts hidden inside, and the pistachio whipped topping was so unlike everything else on the menu that day. I looked forward to it every year after that.

No one is totally sure how Watergate salad got its name. Rumors that it was created by a chef at the infamous Watergate Hotel have never been confirmed, and besides, pineapple and gelatin mix recipes had been around since the turn of the century, NPR reports. Everyone’s best guess is that this particular dish sprung up right after the first instant pistachio pudding mix hit store shelves in 1976. By virtue of this salad being popular at the same time as a pistachio cake recipe that used the same pudding mix — and was called Watergate cake (also for reasons unknown) — they began to share a name. Personally, I like the hunch that perhaps the name was a nod to both dishes’ bright green hues covering up all the nuts and other ingredients underneath, a la the Watergate scandal itself.

So, what is Watergate salad? It’s the sort of thing you might turn your nose up at if you’ve never seen it before, and based on looks alone, I wouldn’t blame you. It’s essentially a bowl of marshmallows and chopped pecans — a delicious start — which is then coated in a pistachio and crushed pineapple whipped cream concoction that you simply have to try. The recipe never changes, because the whole point is that it’s quick, easy, and always the same (though some arguably have a bit more fluff to cover the dish’s contents than others). So, whether you use Food.com’s, Southern Living’s, or the most-legit-seeming Farmer’s Almanac one, you’ll get roughly the same dish.

This is how I learned to make it from Memaw’s family, a method which required nearly zero measuring, which is why it’s so easy to remember. You’ll need:

• 1 box instant pistachio pudding mix (not sugar-free, because Thanksgiving isn’t the day for fussing about it)
• 20 oz. can crushed pineapple
• 1 cup miniature marshmallows, give or take
• Roughly 1/2 cup chopped pecans, but measure with your heart based on how much texture you want
• 1 8 oz. container of Cool Whip
• Maraschino cherries

1. Dump your pineapple and its juice into a bowl and stir in the pudding mix ‘til it’s all combined.
2. Add the marshmallows and nuts and stir.
3. Fold in until your whipped topping until it’s nice and green, and everything in the bowl is coated in fluffy pistachio amazingness.
4. Chill it for a couple hours before go time so it sets up a bit, and top it with maraschino cherries and some extra nuts before serving, if you feel so inclined. (I recommend lots of cherries, personally. Everybody wants a cherry on top.)

Watergate salad is honestly so stupidly good for how little effort it takes to make. If you need something for everyone to argue about over dinner (other than, you know, the state of the world), tell them that some Southerners believe Watergate salad to be a side rather than a dessert, and I promise you that debate will burn through at least 10 minutes of time.