Step Great Aunt Jennie's ORANGE salad. There should be an international tribunal to address Jello salads like this. My father's second wife was from a part of Ohio which might as well have been Mars. 14 years old and feeling very uncomfortable at my first Thanksgiving at their house, I turned to the old lady next to me, and mumbled, "What nice orange salad you've brought." It was a lie, but after an hour of being stared at I was trying to seem normal somehow. Aunt Jennie beamed and me and dumped a huge mound onto my plate. The salad was actually an awful Jello concoction, orange jello with mayonnaise or angel whip, pineapple bits and some lumpy, poorly incorporated dairy product. Somehow, I managed to fork it down. It was like a lesson for your tastebuds about why it is wrong to tell a lie. Aunt Jennie was so delighted she brought the same thing next year, and all the years after... Like the beating of the telltale heart, the orange salad kept coming back for Thanksgiving dinner. When Aunt Jennie started sending the electricity bill to a televangelist, she was put in an assisted living home and my stepmother's sister moved into Aunt Jennie's house. I breathed a sigh of relief. Goodbye to the orange salad (my step-aunt's signature dish was a sausage roll made with rolled out canned biscuit dough). That year for Thanksgiving, my stepmother's sister brought.... THE ORANGE SALAD. Deciding that now Aunt Jennie was gone I might gracefully free myself from the Jello curse, I decided to ask my step-aunt what the awful lumpy stuff in the orange salad was. I'd always assumed it was half-melted cottage cheese or something. "It's grated VELVEETA! It's got orange cheese in it, that's why it's orange salad!" She looked amazed anyone would have to ask. Petroleum and gelatine product abuse in the third degree.