What a Snickers Salad in Spain Taught Me About Building My Own Traditions

At a potluck in southern Spain, I saw it: a bowl of Snickers Salad. Chopped candy bars peeked through a sea of Cool Whip and vanilla pudding, with flecks of green apple trying to pass as something salad-adjacent.

I stopped in my tracks. My eyes widened. That unmistakable smell of mass-market chocolate candy and vanilla pudding hit me like a wave. Just like that, I was no longer at an American-themed Thanksgiving luncheon in Andalusia—I was back in a neighborhood picnic shelter in northern Iowa.

I hadn’t seen a Snickers Salad in years, and somehow, there it was, on a military base in Spain. And while I hadn’t expected to feel emotional about a Midwestern salad, it surprised me. That bowl reminded me of the traditions I grew up with—ones I didn’t realize I missed until that moment.

Iowa was home for over 20 years, even if I haven’t lived there in quite some time. As a military spouse, I’ve moved across five U.S. states and lived overseas in Japan and Spain. My adult life has been full of adventure, but consistency is hard to come by. And the longer I’ve been away from home, the more I’ve come to value the quiet comfort of the traditions I grew up with.

My mom was always big on traditions. Every year, we went out to breakfast on the first day of school and ate coffee cake on Christmas morning. We celebrated big events with Greek-style steak filets at Northwestern Steakhouse, delivered May Day baskets to neighbors, and claimed the same spot on the lake for fireworks each Fourth of July. And of course, she had a decades-old recipe box full of potluck favorites—including my beloved Snickers Salad.

The version I remember came typed on an old-school recipe card: vanilla pudding mix, milk, Cool Whip, chopped Granny Smith apples (for tartness), and of course, chopped-up Snickers bars. I loved it.

The recipe’s exact origin isn’t clear. Although my personal history with Snickers Salad dates back to the late 1980s, most sources suggest it originated in Iowa or Minnesota in the 1950s or 1960s, likely created by Scandinavian immigrants. By the time my family was attending picnics, block parties, and any other Midwestern potluck, it was a beloved tradition.

At the time, I didn’t think of these food rituals as anything special—they were just how we did things. But as I stood there in Spain, eyeing that familiar Pyrex bowl, it struck me how much those simple, repeatable traditions had shaped my sense of belonging. And how much I wanted to create something similar for my own family.

My life today looks nothing like the one I grew up with. Since marrying a Navy helicopter pilot 10 years ago, our holidays have been a patchwork of wherever we happen to be. Thanksgiving has been spent in Navy cafeteria-style galleys, on bullet trains in Japan, on beaches in Hawaii, even out to dinner during a port call in Hong Kong. And while those holidays were fun and memorable, none of them came with rituals we could count on.

That’s why the expat social group I joined in Spain meant so much to me. We were a mix of Spanish and American military spouses, meeting monthly to trade food, customs, and culture. They introduced us to beach bars called “chiringuitos” and taught us to dance the Sevillanas, a series of Spanish folk dances. We brought them backyard barbecues, bunco, and a traditional American Thanksgiving meal. That was the day the Snickers Salad made its surprise appearance.

I gasped when I saw it and nudged a friend. “Do you know what this is?” She didn’t. “That looks nothing like a salad,” she said, a little puzzled. I was too excited to care. I knew a fellow Midwesterner must be among us.

When it came time to eat, I loaded my plate with turkey, stuffing—and a generous scoop of that strange little salad. One bite, and I was 7 years old again, feeling like I was getting away with eating dessert for dinner.

That night, I kept thinking about how I could pass on some of my own traditions to my kids, even if they don’t grow up in Iowa—or anywhere for long. It won’t look the same as the rituals I knew, but that’s okay. I’ve got three boys, and I think they’ll be more than happy to adopt a tradition that involves chocolate for dinner.

Wherever the Navy takes us next, I’ll pack a few Midwest traditions in my suitcase. Some will be new. Some will come from old recipe cards. But all of them will say, “This is how we show up for each other. This is what home tastes like.”

How to Make Snickers Salad

Ingredients

• 1 (3.4 ounce) package instant vanilla pudding
• 1 cup milk
• 1 (8 ounce) carton Cool Whip
• 2 (1.86 ounce) Snickers bars, cut into small pieces
• 2 Granny Smith apples, chopped
• 1 banana, cut up (don’t use if the salad will sit long as they don’t keep well)

Directions:

1. Mix pudding and milk as directed on package.
2. Stir in Cool Whip when pudding has set up.
3. Stir in remaining ingredients about an hour before serving.