I Can't Make Jello-O

I suppose the title is supposed to have a trademark or something attached, right? Isn't Jell-O trademarked? Should it be typed Jell-O (TM) or something like that? I don't want the Jell-O people getting after me for use of their brand.

Maybe if I could actually make Jell-O it would be okay without the trademark?

On a Sunday several years ago (after Mom and Dad had returned from their LDS mission to Texas Fort Worth), I was helping Mom with Sunday dinner. We're masters of the timed bake option at our house. It works perfectly for Sunday dinners so they're nice and hot (and cooked!) when you get out of Church and already feel like there's a gaping whole in the center of the universe that can only be filled by putting something yummy and delicious into your mouth and forcing it to pulse through your veins immediately. Whoa - hungry much?

Anyway, I was helping Mom with Sunday dinner, getting it prepped, putting on the time bake, etc. She asked if I would make some Jell-O to go along with dinner. I said (for the record), "I don't know how to make Jell-O." Mom probably laughed at me or something, but she said, "Just read the instructions on the package and you'll be fine." Okay. Sure. Right. Yeah.

Now, I'd watched Mom make Jell-O something like 100 times. Maybe more. Maybe a little less. But not much less. Because we ate a lot of Jell-O (it's a Mormon thing). Clarification: everyone else ate a lot of Jell-O. I'm not a huge fan because people tend to put weird things (e.g. carrots, pineapple, chunks of other fruits, marshmallows, etc.) in it, and I don't DO Jell-O with things in it. Plain, yes. With a little real whipped cream, yes. With canned whipped cream, no. With Cool Whip, no. That's just wrong. (No offense Cool Whip. You're not on my list of favorite food items.) With "other" things in it, NO. So, so wrong. Just ... it's wrong.

Mom is/was a Master Jell-O Maker. She had the process down. Boil the water, have ice water ready to go, put in the powder, etc. Well, Mom went off to Church, and I was left at home alone to make the Jell-O. I did what I'd seen Mom do so many times: put the powder in the pan, boil some water on the stove, stir in ice water until it melts. Voila! And off to Church I went.

As we're sitting in Relief Society waiting for the last Sunday meeting to start, something started to feel weird. I reviewed over and over in my mind what I did to make the Jell-O, and something felt strange about it. But I consoled myself by marking off the checklist of "to do" items on the back of the box. I mean, who can mess up the Jell-O, right?

Me.

I can mess up the Jell-O.

Because I can't make Jell-O.

And this story is proof.

We got home from Church, everyone was in the process of changing out of their Sunday clothes, Mom had already changed and was in the kitchen throwing dinner on the table (because she's like Wonder Woman speedy when it comes to changing clothes, a trait I have not inherited), and suddenly she yelled, "Katie!" At the time, I was living in the basement, so I probably didn't hear her the first time, which is probably the reason that by the time I did hear her she was hollering pretty loud. I threw on the rest of my clothes and walked upstairs to the sound of her mumbling something.

"Did you call me?" I asked.
"Yes. What is this?"
"It's the Jell-O," I responded.
Mom was silent as she looked at the Jell-O and back at me.
"Is something wrong with it?" I asked.

Some parts of the Jell-O were like red water. Other parts of the Jell-O were like lumpy balls of red goo. It was jiggling, but I'd never seen Jell-O move like that. Mom asked, "Did you even read the directions on the box?" I assured her I did. "Tell me the process you went through," she said. So I told her. I put in the powder, I boiled the water, I used ice water and stirred it around until it melted. "That's what it says to do on the package, right?" I asked.

"Did you happen to make sure all the powder was dissolved by hot water before you added the cold water?" asked Mom.

HUH???

"Um ...."

And then Mom started to laugh. She said, "You can come up with recipes in your head. You can bake the world's best cookies. You have a sense about the way flavors go together. You're not afraid to be creative in the kitchen. Practically everything you cook or bake tastes really good. But you can't make Jell-O?!"

Hey, in my defense, I told her that up front.

And that is why I'm asked to make main dishes, side dishes, desserts, rolls, baked goods, salads, and anything else you can eat - except the Jell-O.

That's perfectly fine by me!