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Strawberry Lime Pretzel Salad -- The Jam That Becomes the Visit

The tomatoes are flowering. The first yellow blooms on the Mortgage Lifter, the plant that earned its name by growing like it's being paid to — tall and green and confident in a way that makes the other plants look like they're still interviewing. Jack pollinated them with his paintbrush, unnecessary since the bees are working but ritual matters to Jack the way it matters to all farmers, his way of saying: I am part of this.

I FaceTimed Mom and Dad for the first time. Technology and the Webers have a strained relationship — Roger treats the phone like a small explosive device that might go off, and Marlene views the internet with the skepticism of a woman who grew up trusting the Farmer's Almanac and sees no reason to upgrade. But Emma taught them FaceTime on their iPad (Christmas gift, two years ago, still in its original case, battery perpetually at twelve percent). The call lasted eight minutes. We could see the garden behind them — the strawberry patch, the sunflowers, Roger's tomato cages. Mom looked thin. Not dramatically thin, not visibly sick, just thinner than the last time I saw her in the driveway in June, and the thinness registered in my body before my brain processed it, the way a farmer's daughter notices a plant wilting before she can name the reason.

I made strawberry jam again — the second summer of jamming, the skill now settled into competence. The strawberries from the Ankeny market were peak-season gorgeous: red all the way through, no white shoulders, sweet enough to eat by the handful and patient enough to survive the cooking. I crushed and stirred and tested the sheet and poured the jam into jars and listened for the pop of the lids sealing, the sound that means: done, preserved, carried forward. Eight jars. I packed four to ship to Grinnell because I still can't visit safely and the jam is the visit.

Kevin's work has settled into a permanent remote arrangement. The dining room table is his office now. His laptop, his files, his coffee cup ring on the wood that I've stopped trying to prevent because some battles aren't worth fighting and the coffee cup ring is the treaty line in the war for domestic space. He works. I cook around him. The house has accommodated two careers and three children and a garden and a saxophone and a YouTube cooking show and all of it happens simultaneously, all day, every day, and somehow nobody has killed anyone, which in month four of a pandemic is its own form of triumph.

Those eight jars of jam reminded me how much a single ingredient — when you catch it at exactly the right moment — can carry an entire season forward. The strawberries from the Ankeny market were the kind that only come around for a few weeks each summer, and after I’d put up the jam and packed four jars for Grinnell, I still had a bowlful left, red all the way through and begging to be used. This Strawberry Lime Pretzel Salad is where they went: the sweet-salt crunch of the pretzel crust, the cool cream cheese layer, and those peak-season berries on top felt like the most honest way I know to say — this is what summer tastes like right now, in this garden, in this house.

Strawberry Lime Pretzel Salad

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 10 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes (plus 2 hours chilling) | Servings: 12

Ingredients

  • Pretzel Crust
  • 2 1/2 cups crushed pretzels
  • 3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, melted
  • 3 tablespoons granulated sugar
  • Cream Cheese Layer
  • 8 oz cream cheese, softened
  • 1 cup powdered sugar
  • 1 teaspoon fresh lime zest
  • 2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
  • 8 oz whipped topping (such as Cool Whip), thawed
  • Strawberry Topping
  • 1 lb fresh strawberries, hulled and sliced
  • 1 package (6 oz) strawberry gelatin (Jell-O)
  • 2 cups boiling water
  • 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice

Instructions

  1. Make the crust. Preheat oven to 350°F. Stir together crushed pretzels, melted butter, and granulated sugar until evenly combined. Press firmly into the bottom of a 9×13-inch baking dish. Bake for 10 minutes until set. Remove and let cool completely.
  2. Make the cream cheese layer. Beat softened cream cheese with powdered sugar, lime zest, and lime juice until smooth and fluffy. Fold in whipped topping until fully incorporated. Spread evenly over the completely cooled pretzel crust, sealing the edges to prevent the gelatin from seeping through. Refrigerate while you prepare the topping.
  3. Make the strawberry layer. Dissolve strawberry gelatin in 2 cups boiling water, stirring for 2 minutes. Stir in 1 tablespoon lime juice. Let cool to room temperature (about 20 minutes — do not let it set). Fold in the sliced strawberries.
  4. Assemble and chill. Gently pour and spread the strawberry-gelatin mixture over the cream cheese layer. Refrigerate for at least 2 hours, or until the gelatin is fully set.
  5. Serve. Cut into squares and serve cold. Garnish with additional fresh strawberry slices or a pinch of lime zest if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 320 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 16g | Carbs: 42g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 310mg

Diane Holloway
About the cook who shared this
Diane Holloway
Week 221 of Diane’s 30-year story · Des Moines, Iowa
Diane is a forty-six-year-old insurance adjuster in Des Moines who grew up on a four-hundred-acre farm that her family had worked since 1908. When commodity prices crashed and the bank came calling, the Webers lost the farm — four generations of heritage sold at auction. Diane left with her mother's casserole recipes and a cast iron skillet and rebuilt her life in the city. She cooks Midwest comfort food because it tastes like home, even when home doesn't exist anymore.

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