From the 1933 recipe booklet Cooking with Cold by the Kelvinator Refrigerator Co.:
- 1 8-ounce package cream cheese
- 1/3 cup (90 g) peanut butter — I’m not sure what the peanut butter was like in the 1930s, but I used a mainstream, brand-name, lots-of-sugar-salt-and-stabilizers peanut butter. The kind your kids like.
- 2 medium-sized jalapeño peppers — the original recipe calls for half a cup of diced green pepper, but this gives it a bit of flavor. Check out the heat level before you use them, but given how mild the jalapeños in New Hampshire supermarkets are you are unlikely to do yourself an injury.
- ½ cup chopped pimento — this isn’t something you run across every day. I roasted and chopped a red bell pepper instead (see below).
- ½ cup (about 40 g) chopped celery
- ½ teaspoon paprika
- ½ teaspoon salt
- 1 Tablespoon fresh squeezed lemon juice
- ¼ cup mayonnaise
- ¼ cup whipping cream
Roast a red bell pepper.
Place a bell pepper — it can be any color, but red is the most dramatic — on a baking sheet with a piece of parchment paper or a silicone mat. (The pepper will release some liquid as it roasts, and this will help prevent a mess in the stove.)
Move one of the racks in your oven to its highest position and set the oven to a low broil. Leave the pepper to completely char, then turn it with a pair of tongs to char the other side. When the entire surface of the pepper has burned to a papery consistency, take it out of the oven and place it in a sealed container — a bowl with a fitted lid will work well for this, or even a regular bowl, with a plate on top.
Now walk away. Leave the pepper to steam for 20 minutes or so. The hot pepper juices — some of which have leaked out onto the baking sheet you were prepared enough to lay down — will loosen up that papery, charred skin. Now you can wipe it away from the body of the pepper with your fingers — which will get sticky and gross. And the actual pepper will fall apart in your hand. You will have to wipe the seeds away, and flick them into the sink — also a little gross. (This is why TV chefs don’t do this on camera.) But you will be left with a beautiful, perfectly roasted pepper that you can chop up for this recipe.
Putting together the rest of this “salad”:
Cream the cream cheese and peanut butter together until they are light and fluffy, then mix in the peppers, celery, seasonings, and lemon juice. Set aside briefly.
Whip the heavy cream and mayo together until fluffy, then fold it into the rest of the mixture. Spoon it into a lidded container, and freeze for several hours, then cut it into cubes and serve it to a confused but impressed dinner date.
Looking at the list of ingredients, at this point, you are probably saying to yourself, “There’s no way.” This seems like a very odd dish. And I have to confess that I have no idea how or why anyone came up with it, but it is — hold on to your hat — very tasty. It’s just very unexpected. If you find that you’ve become jaded and your palate has become numb to caviar, truffles and wagyu beef tartare, this might be a dish that jolts you back to your senses and braces you to soldier on for another day.
Which is not to say that this wouldn’t go super-well with a glass of Champagne.
Featured photo: Frozen Peanut Butter Salad. Photo by John Fladd.
