Through the whole of my childhood, the bottom shelf of my grandmother’s food pantry was stocked with pudding and jello and marshmallows. Predominantly – PISTACHIO PUDDING.
This was because she belonged to 800 women’s clubs, from Eastern Star, the Martha Circle at church, the Women’s Republican Club, yadda yadda on and on. She also once belonged to the Women’s Christian Temperance Union swearing that alcohol would never touch her family’s lips. That one didn’t work out so well. But she needed the pistachio pudding for her signature dish at the many pitch-ins these groups held (called potlucks outside of Indiana). Continue reading
