Cranberry Freeze
Words by: Chelsey Simpson / Photos by: Sajin Poos
Ingredients
16 oz. canned whole-berry cranberry sauce
8 oz canned crushed pineapple, drained
16 oz. sour cream
1/3 cup pecans, chopped
The beautiful thing about recipes is that they’re almost never original. At this point in human history, we are all borrowing (hopefully not appropriating), riffing, and tweaking. It would take a food historian to track down the true origin of most recipes, and this “Cranberry Freeze” is no exception.
My cousin Jill and I are both on the staff of this magazine, and while discussing last year’s holiday issue, we reminisced in the way that only cousins and siblings can about the cranberry dishes of our youth. Among them was this easy, quirky frozen delight—not a relish at all, almost a dessert, definitely not a sauce (unless you let it melt). It has a very mid-century feel; let’s call it Jello salad-adjacent. It seems old-fashioned now, but in its time this recipe was a celebration of new technology: canned goods, food processors, electricity, freezers.
But how did the Cranberry Freeze reach our Thanksgiving table, and who still had a copy of the recipe? After consulting Jill, my sister, my aunt and the internet, the following theories emerged, in no particular order: My grandmother gave it to my mom; another aunt shared it with Jill’s mom; it came from a church cookbook; it was in a recipe book that came with a food processor purchased at Sears; it was from the 1970 holiday issue of Southern Living.
We will never know where it came from, but here it is, copied from a yellowed recipe card my sister had, which was in my mother’s handwriting. I’ve added a few of my own notes, as one does. Make it for your table this year, and 40 years from now your children can argue about where it came from. Perhaps one of them will save a yellowed copy of this page.
METHOD
In a medium bowl, combine all ingredients. Mix well. Pour into your mold or pan of choice and freeze until solid (at least 2 hours.) I prefer freezing it in individual serving dishes, like small ramekins. Serve with your meal, not after. Think of it as a kind of sorbet or an alternative to traditional cranberry sauce.
Years ago a friend told me that when you share a recipe, you should add your name, as in, “Amy’s Sweet Potato Heaven.” That way, people will think of you; history will keep track. In honor of that, here are the women who, according to my family lore, helped this recipe reach you: Sara, Nancy, Hailey, Jill, Julia, Mildred, and Betsy.