These recipes began with good intentions—impress the guests, wow the neighbors, try something that felt modern. The 1960s and ’70s were a time of bold colors, experimental living, and even more experimental cooking. Home kitchens became stages for creativity, convenience, and quiet competition, where presentation often mattered more than taste. What followed was a wave of dishes that were imaginative, theatrical, and frequently, completely baffling. We’re still trying to believe people actually ate these. Are they real? Oh, they’re very real.
Crown Roast of Frankenfurters
It looks like a royal meat wreath, but those are hot dogs stacked with surgical precision. Crowned with sauerkraut, this was meant to impress at every beige-toned dinner party.
To recreate this beauty, just glue hot dogs together with toothpicks and optimism. Fill the center with sauerkraut, maybe add pimentos. Serve chilled, because apparently warmth was optional in the ’70s.
Honestly, this feels like a prank that went too far. Who decided this should be centerpiece material? It’s both hypnotic and terrifying—like a meaty Stonehenge built by Aunt Doris.
Tuna ‘n Mackerel Picnic Loaf
At first glance, it resembles a brick of bread. But slice into it, and surprise—canned fish, peas, corn, and mayonnaise have moved in and brought mystery spices along.
The recipe was simple: tuna, mackerel, canned vegetables, some gelatin or mayo, and a loaf pan. Let it chill until firm enough to survive a road trip or nuclear winter.
Would you dare bring this to a picnic? It appears that someone attempted to mummify a tuna casserole inside a Wonder Bread sarcophagus. We’re still warming up this list. Ready to meet its fruity, cheesy cousin?
Tuna and Pear Pizza
This pizza has anchovy stripes, tomato paste, and canned pears standing in for pepperoni. Toss in some prunes and you’ve got a pie that confuses all five senses instantly.
Sweet and savory was trending hard during the late ’60s. People combined fruit and fish freely, sometimes with success, other times resulting in… well, this circle of culinary judgment.
It’s like someone saw an Italian pizza and said, “What if pizza and fruit salad meet?” Just don’t get too comfortable—we haven’t even touched the fake desserts yet.
Did You Know? 🤓💡
This style came from a Scandinavian trend in the ‘60s that favored pineapple, bananas, or even kiwi on pizza. Sweet fish pizzas weren’t a bug—they were a feature.
Crusty Salmon Shortcakes
You think it’s dessert, right? But nope—it’s biscuits topped with salmon chunks, drowned in pink sauce, and then stabbed with olives. It’s like ambrosia salad’s evil twin.
This was a staple for 1960s ladies’ luncheons. Canned salmon was affordable, and “pink sauce” meant mayo, ketchup, and mystery seasoning. Served warm or cold, depending on courage.
We’re not sure whether to eat it or apologize to it. The broccoli garnish is clearly trying to escape. Respect to anyone who swallowed this without flinching. Gross? Not until bananas enter the picture.
Did You Know? 🤓💡
This recipe actually won awards at state fairs in the 1960s. Judges called it “inventive.” Historians now call it “a cry for help with mayonnaise.”
Ham and Bananas Hollandaise
Bananas, wrapped in ham, covered in glowing cheese sauce, then baked. Yes, this was real. Yes, people made it willingly. And yes, it appeared in cookbooks. With pride.
All you needed were ripe bananas, sliced ham, and a basic hollandaise or mock cheese sauce. Lay in a baking dish and broil until the room smells like confusion.
It’s giving strong “don’t make eye contact” energy. Sweet, salty, and slippery all at once. Trust us—it’s only going to get jigglier from here.
Jell-O Salad with Vegetables
If you ever wanted your salad to jiggle, this was the answer. Layered carrots, peas, beans, and who-knows-what are suspended like trapped souls inside lemon gelatin.
Gelatin molds were fashionable and meant to display color and texture. Vegetables stayed crunchy, while everything else just quivered around them. It was weirdly celebrated as “elegant.”
Every time we look at this, I hear the vegetables whispering, “Release us.” It’s like someone tried to preserve a stir-fry in amber, Jurassic Park-style. Hope you like betrayal in swirl form.
Did You Know? 🤓💡
Kraft once released a shredded carrot-flavored Jell-O in 1964. It was called “Celery” and was green. It bombed so hard it disappeared within a year.
Oriental Shrimp Sandwich Roll
This roll resembles a cake, but what’s inside? Nope, not strawberries. It’s shrimp salad. Whipped pink mystery filling, a giant green olive eye, and layers of squishy bread rolled into a spiral of mayhem.
Shrimp, mayonnaise, and “exotic” seasoning were spread on flattened sandwich bread, rolled tightly, and frosted with more shrimp mousse. It chilled for hours before ambushing innocent potluck guests.
Cutting into this must’ve felt like betrayal. You expect strawberry jelly—get seafood spread. And the next dish? It doesn’t even pretend to hide the horror.
Congealed Chicken
Pink gelatin packed with chicken chunks, pimentos, pickles, and hard-boiled eggs. You could see it wiggle as it judged you silently. Even the olives look stressed.
This was peak party food. Leftover poultry and pantry odds got mixed with mayo and gelatin, then molded and unmolded for show. Often topped with… more gelatin.
There’s something sinister about meat suspended mid-sneeze. You don’t eat this. You confront it. But what comes next might just stare back.
Roast Suckling Pig
This isn’t a dinner. It’s a dare. Entire baby pig, roasted and lacquered to a reflective sheen, staring you down with a literal apple eye. Dinner and horror combined.
This dish goes back centuries, but the ’60s added extra showmanship. Red-tinted glaze, table theatrics, and eyeballs left intact. It was centerpiece-meets-pagan-ritual.
The eye contact is personal. Like it’s asking, “Was I worth it?” It’s glossy, glossy guilt on a platter, and it watches while you chew. Ready for stuffed mystery meat?
Did You Know? 🤓💡
Magazines often encouraged hosts to name the pig as part of the meal presentation. It was meant to “charm” guests. Nothing like eating “Petunia” while she stares.
Stuffed Beef Rounds
No, they’re not turds. These are just beef tubes loaded with some kind of stuffing—possibly fruit, maybe breadcrumbs, definitely secrets while swimming in orange gravy.
The filling changed by household. Pineapple, celery, breadcrumbs, or even nuts. Rolled, tied, baked, and drenched in gravy. Often paired with canned vegetables or whatever was close to expiring.
It’s like someone tried to make meat fancy but failed anyway. One bite and you’re asking, “Was that citrus or sadness?” And things are about to get much, much colder.
Pineapple Mint Freeze Salad
It’s pale green, it’s cold, and it’s pretending to be a salad. Mint jelly meets crushed pineapple, suspended in a creamy fluff that looks like frozen mouthwash on a plank.
The recipe called for cream cheese, whipped topping, green food coloring, and canned fruit. Then it was frozen, sliced like fudge, and presented as something people were supposed to eat.
It screams dessert, but it’s served with ham. And yet… it’s also a salad. Or maybe a dare. Either way, it’s just the beginning of the cold, creamy confusion.
Did You Know? 🤓💡
This was legally allowed to compete in both “salad” and “dessert” categories at recipe contests. It once tied with an actual Caesar salad for third place.
Vegetable-Burger Cups
They look like meat volcanoes erupting canned peas and carrots. The “cups” are ground beef shaped into bowls, holding a creamy, veggie-heavy filling straight out of a Campbell’s fever dream.
These were made with seasoned beef pressed into muffin tins, baked slightly, then filled with vegetable chowder mix or cream sauce and cooked again. Garnished with onions if you’re feeling bold.
It’s giving school cafeteria meets Cold War cookbook. We respect the creativity, but are we sure the vegetables wanted to be part of this? Next up: Meet the meat’s darker side.
Creamed Liver Loaf
Behold: a meatloaf wrapped in bacon and topped with pickle slices like it’s trying to distract you from its true form. That form? Creamed liver masquerading as dinner.
Inside, you’d find blended liver, breadcrumbs, onions, and eggs. The outside? A bacon straitjacket. After baking, it was served in slices like cold cuts or paired with boiled potatoes.
There’s a strong vibe of “we had liver and we had hope.” Neither made it through the oven. It’s unsettling—but not as deceptive as what’s coming next.
Frosted Meat Loaf
From the outside, this looks like a birthday cake. Cut it open, and surprise—it’s beef. The “frosting” is mashed potatoes, iced on like it’s dessert night at the lodge.
Campbell’s suggested this in a 1960s ad. The meatloaf gets covered in mashed potatoes, smoothed out carefully, and decorated with mushroom soup gravy like it’s a meat-based sheet cake.
This is what happens when your dinner wants to be dessert but keeps failing the audition. It’s frosted, but emotionally, it’s definitely savory. Brace yourself—we’re about to deal with something very fishy.
Salmon Trout in Aspic
This fish has shrimp on its back, parsley in its head, and absolute menace in its eyes. The aspic around it shines like varnish, and there’s decorative jelly flowers.
To make this, a whole trout was poached, deboned, and filled with cucumber and mousse. It was then set in clear gelatin and surrounded with shrimp and cucumber slices.
It’s beautiful in a museum-exhibit kind of way. But let’s be real: it’s staring at us, and we don’t feel safe. The next dish… would you agree that some critics say it looks like a cat’s litter box?
Burghul Salad (1976)
This salad is an aquarium gravel with ambition. A mix of cracked wheat, parsley, tomatoes, and spices, garnished with olives and cucumbers placed like traffic cones at the corners.
Burghul, or bulgur wheat, was a health-forward trend in the ‘70s. It got mixed with lemon juice, onion, olive oil, and fresh herbs. Served cold and firm for texture.
Honestly, it looks like you dropped trail mix in a sandbox. The flavor might be great, but the presentation says “emergency potluck filler.” Coming up: dairy meets poultry in wild ways.
Milk Chicken
You’re seeing that right—whole roasted chickens blanketed in a white sauce, topped with banana slices. A warm, creamy gravy and poultry combo that pushes boundaries in every direction.
This was made by roasting the chicken, then pouring a milk-based sauce thickened with flour over it. Bananas were added for sweetness (they loved bananas too much, didn’t they?), and the whole dish was served hot.
The flavor might surprise you, but the visual… your taste buds won’t know what to expect. It looks like dessert lost a bet and had to sit on top of Sunday’s dinner.
Pressed Brisket of Beef
There’s a jelly layer around this meat spiral. It’s giving cold-cut energy with a big aspic attitude. Inside is sliced beef rolled tight and trapped in a gelatinous amber casing.
This was achieved by cooking the brisket, slicing and rolling it with seasonings or stuffing, and chilling it in aspic until firm enough to slice without shame—or maybe with it.
It’s not appetizing so much as intimidating. The kind of dish that makes you rethink everything you thought you knew about protein and presentation. And we haven’t even hit spinach cake yet.
Did You Know? 🤓💡
Clear meat jelly was once seen as the ultimate culinary flex. The clearer your aspic, the more “professional” you were. Cloudy jelly was social suicide.
Florentine Ring
That’s spinach—looooots of it—baked into a ring mold and filled with white sauce and shredded cheese. It’s like a savory Bundt cake made from salad and ambition.
Florentine typically refers to spinach and a creamy element. Here, the spinach is baked into the ring, while a creamy fish or egg mixture fills the center. Served warm or cold.
It’s impressive, but also a little bit too green. Like, “Did we invent this during a spinach surplus?” Even the tomatoes look alarmed around the edges. But the next dish? It smiles. We’re just not sure if it’s charming or not.
Seafood Mousse
There’s a fish-shaped mold. There’s piped sauce for gills. There’s a smile. It’s seafood mousse, and it’s smiling at you with olive eyes from the depths of the buffet table.
This mousse was made with pureed fish, gelatin, lemon juice, and mayonnaise. Shaped in a fish mold, decorated with piped ketchup or mustard, could be carrots, too, and chilled until you’re too afraid to move.
It’s cute. It’s creepy. It’s possibly plotting something. Dare to take a bite and you’ll question whether food should ever grin at you from a bed of lettuce. Next: Have you seen the soup that inspires?
Inspiration Soup
Oh, geez. We don’t feel very inspired by this. This looks like Fruit Punch had a midlife crisis. Chunks of vegetables are floating in a neon red broth that might be tomato juice—or possibly a melted crayon.
Made with tomato soup, canned asparagus, beans, shredded cabbage, and cheese cubes. Served chilled in punch bowls for an “elegant luncheon starter.” Yes, people slurped this before entrées.
This feels like a dare disguised as an appetizer. Even the asparagus looks like it wants to climb out. How about we go for something drier next?
Oats ‘N Peanuts Meat Loaves
From a distance, it’s just a brown square. But this meatless loaf combines oats, peanuts, soy sauce, and onions into a texture that’s neither fudge nor dinner.
This was part of the ‘natural food’ wave. Meatless recipes focused on protein alternatives, often using pantry staples. Peanuts were trendy, and oats were… inexplicably everywhere.
It’s hearty, sure. But the topping? A lone pepper and chopped scallions as if it could save this dish from harsh critics. It gives “bake sale mystery dish” vibes in all the wrong ways. Now, care for a dessert? Or maybe we’ve got that wrong?
Chocolate Casserole Pudding
This one’s tricky—it looks like dessert, but contains both chocolate and what appears to be… meat? A thick layer of cocoa crust hides a beefy, creamy mystery below.
It was a hot casserole meant for brunch. A chocolate topping layered over peaches, ground beef, and cream sauce. Baked until the top set and the flavors “blended.”
You’ve heard of sweet-and-savory. But this is savory crashing dessert’s birthday party. Every spoonful comes with the emotional weight of betrayal. The next course? Sugary meat, proudly sweet. Should these flavors get along?
Did You Know? 🤓💡
1970s “gourmet casseroles” often used cocoa as a seasoning for meat. One Betty Crocker recipe paired chocolate syrup with lamb and called it “Continental.”
Glazed Ham and Peaches
Classic holiday centerpiece energy. Glazed ham gets slathered with a sweet fruit compote, then crowned with canned peach halves that look just a little too proud of themselves.
The glaze was often made from brown sugar, canned peach syrup, cloves, and pineapple juice. Baked until sticky and golden. Served warm, garnished with more fruit and parsley.
It’s beautiful to look at. Like a centerpiece that demands compliments before you taste it. The sugar-crusted top adds drama, and those peaches? Judging. But now it’s time for something smooth, yet sinister.
Mousse of Chicken Livers
This is a pâté party, and no one brought a smile. Chicken livers, puréed until smooth, chilled in a ramekin, and topped with a garnish that looks like a sea spider.
Blended with butter, cream, brandy, and seasonings, this mousse was often paired with Ritz crackers. Served chilled, it was an upscale party staple in 1970s cocktail culture.
Texture-wise, it’s rich and creamy. Presentation-wise, it’s a little haunted. Like the appetizer version of a villain origin story. But things are about to get stringy and red.
Paprika Veal
If you see this on the table, you’ll see pasta and sauce first. But then you spot the base—a moat of greasy meat rings surrounding a pile of noodles and cheddar-colored confusion.
The dish was veal cutlets topped with a paprika cream sauce, then served with spaghetti and cheese. A “continental” dinner option that made the weeknight menu feel fancy.
It’s saucy. It’s stringy. It’s possibly angry. The flavor might work, but the plating feels like a territorial dispute. And it only gets more dramatic from here.
Fillet Massada
This is roast beef wrapped in pastry, tied with bacon, and stuffed with white asparagus spears like tiny edible javelins. Quick question: are those meats raw? It looked like it could still run, though.
Massada was an elaborate meat roll, often including veal or beef fillet, pâté, mushrooms, and fancy vegetables. The pastry crust sealed it all in before baking to golden drama.
It’s theatrical. The crust says “wedding centerpiece,” but those asparagus bundles feel like they’re heading to battle. And the next guest at the table… is very, very cold.
Jellied Tarragon Chicken
Pale chicken, floating in clear aspic, garnished with whole tarragon leaves. It looks like a ghost story told through poultry. This is food that doesn’t blink but still judges.
To make it, cooked chicken was arranged in a mold with tarragon, then covered in gelatin made from bouillon and white wine. Chilled until completely set.
It’s cold. It’s too glossy. It’s unsettling. Why does it look like someone is trying to preserve a dinner forever? The leaves feel like decoration and a warning. Up next? Eggs. Inside meat. Unapologetically.
Veal, Ham, and Tongue Pie
What starts as a simple meat pie ends with surprise hard-boiled eggs inside. This crusted monster hides cubes of veal, ham, and tongue in a gelatin-rich filling.
This traditional savory pie used cooked meats, jelly, and eggs encased in shortcrust. Served chilled, often sliced like cake. Popular at weddings, buffets, and bold funerals.
Cutting into this is like unwrapping a very meaty gift. You get layers, textures, and possibly questions that will haunt you for years. The next one plays by no rules at all.
Pizza Plus
This pizza has no rules. Toppings are grouped by type—sliced sausage, raw onions, anchovies, cheese, and cocktail onions—like a food court sampler tray slapped on tomato paste.
Known as “Pizza Plus,” this divided-circle approach was designed to showcase variety. Great for indecisive guests or people avoiding certain toppings. Bad for literally everyone else.
It’s tidy chaos. The cocktail onions alone deserve a trial. It looks like someone ran out of time halfway through topping and said, “Good enough.” But don’t worry—rice in a wine glass is next.
Tuna Rice Salad Valenciana
Served in a wine glass like it’s attending prom, this salad stacks olives, tuna chunks, and peas with rice and lettuce. There’s even a parsley sprig for drama.
Popular in Spain and 1970s American kitchens, Valenciana-style salad combined canned tuna, rice, green olives, and Thousand Island dressing. Chilled and layered for elegance. Best served with silence.
It’s giving tapas meets department store café. The olives are definitely doing the heavy lifting here. No one ever needed this much rice in a goblet. You’ll miss this innocence when you get to know what’s next.
Lamprey Eel, Bordeaux Style
Those rolled filets might look like cinnamon buns in gravy, but no—this is lamprey eel, simmered in red wine with carrots and onions. It’s very… medieval banquet-core.
A delicacy in French cuisine, this dish uses blood from the lamprey to thicken the wine sauce. Served hot with rounds of buttered bread and fear in your heart.
Visually, it’s a struggle. The sauce is thick, the fish is coiled, and the toast is trying to escape. Let’s call this one an acquired taste. And now—something alien-green. We wouldn’t be surprised if The Green Lantern Corps recommends this.
Did You Know? 🤓💡
Henry I of England died in 1135 after eating “a surfeit of lampreys.” That’s right—this dish is medieval royalty fatality certified.
Pear and Gooseberry Summer Pudding
This bright green dome might seem like dessert at first glance, but slicing it reveals pickles, greens, and fruit wrapped in white bread. It’s like a prank from a picnic.
Summer puddings were usually fruity and sweet. This savory version swaps the berries for gooseberries and greens, packed into a mold lined with soft white sandwich bread.
It has serious alien lunchbox energy. The cross-section reads like swamp lasagna. Somewhere, a tea party guest screamed quietly and kept chewing. Up next? Dessert that’s secretly dinner again.
Upside-Down Chili Pie
Does this look drier than the Sahara desert? It could pass as a chocolate cake until you taste it. It’s chili, baked under a cornmeal topping and flipped onto a platter. Surprise! It’s dinner pretending to be dessert again.
You’d start by making a hearty chili base—beans, meat, tomato—then pour a cornbread batter over top and bake. Flip it once set, and garnish with cheese and parsley.
It’s creative, sure. But also stressful. One wrong move and you’ve got lava chili on the floor. This is casserole roulette. And the final dish? Let’s just say… it knows how to wiggle-wiggle.
Bean and Mushroom Salad
A bean salad molded into a dome using an unflavored gelatin. Inside: canned mushrooms, green beans, wax beans, and pimentos. If this doesn’t look like the 70s to you, then that would be very questionable.
Served chilled and unblinking. This salad was mixed with Italian dressing and left to marinate overnight. Pressed into a bowl, flipped onto a plate, then garnished with watercress and cold war tension.
What is stunning if it’s not a little cursed, right? The shape says dessert, the color says fear, and the mushrooms say, “you’re eating us like this, huh?” Good luck sleeping.
