by Howard Mohr
Suddenly all over Minnesota we’re listening again. It’s the weather. We believe in the weather here. It’s something to hang on to. And we believe in our TV weather people. Larry goes right into the twenty-four-hour satellite loop that shows the buildup of the clouds that produced the tornado. His voice is controlled when he talks about the warm front from the Gulf and the cold front from Canada, and the humidity. We get all the facts. In Minnesota the 10 o’clock news is just the window dressing for the 10 o’clock weather. The low-keyed attempt to explain something out of our control puts us right in the mood for a good night’s sleep.
For practice with the Minnesota negatives, try translating these foreign statements into Minnesotan:
1. I’m so happy, I can’t believe it!!
2. That’s the best movie I’ve seen in twenty years!!
3. Oh, darling, this is our twentieth anniversary!!!!
Answers:
1. Yeah, well, boy!
2. It sure beats some of that other stuff they’ve been charging us seven bucks to watch.
3. Twenty years—not too bad a deal, huh? Pass the butter, please.
One last note: not too good and not so good are worse than not too bad and not so bad. Way worse, in fact. When somebody asks you how you slept on the guest bed with the bar that cuts across your back and gives you shooting pains down your legs, you will say “Not too bad” because you don’t want to hurt their feelings, but how you actually slept was not too good.
About the Advertisements in this Guide
If I had known what this book was going to cost me (but you hardly ever know anything, really, until it’s too late), I would never have put the first word on the page, or been so foolishly happy about it back when it was just a feeble idea in my weak brain. Normally, I’m the kind of guy that likes to sit around looking out at whatever comes his way. It can be dull, yes, but what else is new?
When I started this book I was short on cash, but that was inconsequential, because I couldn’t think of anything I needed. But that changed pretty fast. When push came to shove, I thought about putting a mortgage on the farmhouse to take care of loose ends while I plugged along on the book, but the bank said they didn’t think the house would last long enough for me to pay off the loan. They said my house was depreciating at about 10 percent a year and that in ten years it would be worth nothing in the housing market. They told me to bulldoze the house and move into an apartment. So then I asked the loan officer if I could use the book I hadn’t written yet as collateral. That cracked him up. He got all the bank employees together and had me repeat what I said. It made their day.
I took my hat in hand and tried to get some financial backing from the larger Minnesota companies whose names are household words, but they said they didn’t feel they wanted their name in a book with as little chance of success as this one. So I went to smaller Minnesota businesses and the result is plain. The Chicken-Feather Siding Company, Bob Humde Enterprises, Walleye Phone, and all the rest were willing to toss a couple of bucks my way for the commercial exposure. I hope I don’t sound like I don’t appreciate it.
I have printed their ads exactly as they sent them to me. I apologize if you find some of the ads a little low on the totem pole of taste, but it’s the best I could do and the best they could do. These ads weren’t dreamed up by fancy ad agencies.
I wish I could give you my personal guarantee that the products and services advertised in this book are what they seem to be, but I can’t, because I haven’t tried everything. But still, I kind of hope that you’ll do your best to patronize my advertisers. They took a chance with me, so keep that in mind as you thumb through it in the bookstore.
A couple of the companies are the subjects of class-action suits at present, but it is not my place to mention which ones—they’re innocent until proven guilty in my book. If you’re upset with one of my advertisers, please, don’t contact me—just write a letter to the Minnesota Pretty Good Business Bureau. That’s their job and they’re not too bad at it, in a way, I guess.
And if you buy the book and wish you hadn’t, I’m sorry—it’s the best I could do. If it’s not good enough, well, what can I say. I really did try. But I’ve had failures before, so don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.
FISCAL ADJUSTMENTS TO LESSONS AND ADS
It is my obligation to mention that because of the rise in the cost of living over the past twenty-five years, any mention of the cost of a product or service should be multiplied by 4, with food items having a multiplier of 5.5. Prescription drug prices from 1987 should be multiplied by 10.
For example, in the advertisement for the ALL-IN-ONE PROM KIT on page 13, the bargain price listed at $19.95 would be $79.80 as of the last day of 2011.
The company manufacturing the fashion kit declared bankruptcy soon after the Minneapolis Star Tribune in May of 1996 printed the headline PROM NIGHT WARDROBE MALFUNCTION, the very first use of the term, long before any Super Bowl shenanigans. The charming couple wearing their ALL-IN-ONE kits were the hit of the prom as they rushed off the dance floor in absolutely total scantily clad misery and embarrassment. But times change and that same couple kept up their friendship. By 2010 they were living together in an apartment in the University of Minnesota’s Dinkytown and thought it would be a hoot to upload their malfunctions to YouTube from old video cam footage taken by the principal. They were pulling in 1,458 views a day for three days of glory. They were friended a lot on Facebook, but wardrobe malfunctions were a dime a dozen way back in 2010. In 2011 several high schools specifically forbid the execution of “wardrobe malfunctions” at the prom, or for that matter, in the halls and classrooms. There was a story going around Facebook that certain high fashion women’s clothing had built-in “wardrobe malfunction release levers.” No surprise that it was a Facebook “fact malfunction.” No such device existed. Then.
BAXTER’S BUS TOURS ad on page 15 had the incredible price of $5.75 per day, with sack lunch. What fun it was to motor around at low speed and see those old brick school buildings. The odors and fragrances alone brought back many memories of one’s elementary school days. Most of those buildings have now been bulldozed or declared unsafe. But ol’ Baxter is still at it. The tours today don’t create much of the overwhelming nostalgia that was the heart of the tours in the 1980s. What with the high price of gas, one of the biggest stories of the last twenty-five years, Baxter now charges well over ten times the old 1987 price. This slow but rather exciting tour of summer schoolhouses now will set you back $135.99 a day per person, including the cost of a FEDERALLY mandated FBI background check.
Eating In in Minnesota
HOTDISH
On your visit to Minnesota, you will sooner or later come face-to-face with Minnesota’s most popular native food, hotdish. It can grace any table. A traditional main course, hotdish is cooked and served hot in a single baking dish and commonly appears at family reunions and church suppers. Hotdish is constructed on a base of canned cream of mushroom soup and canned vegetables. The other ingredients are as varied as the Minnesota landscape. If you sit down to something that doesn’t look like anything you’ve ever seen before, it’s probably hotdish.
As of the November 1986 state hotdish survey, there were 3,732 different hotdish recipes in Minnesota, up twelve from the previous November. Here are eight hotdishes taken at random from that survey.
Spaghetti-Tuna Hotdish
Garbanzo Bango Hotdish
Velveeta-Hamburger Hotdish
Ketchup Surprise Hotdish
Back of the Refrigerator Hotdish
Doggone Good Hotdish
Turkey Wiener Doodah Hotdish (1985 Winner of Le Grande Prix de Hotdish)
Organ Meat–Cashew Hotdish
If you’re visiting Minnesota in late August, the Hotdish Pavilion at the Minnesota State Fair is quite the deal. You have to see it to believe it. You’ll get your fill of hotdish and hotdish-style entertainment.
The three-volume Official State Hotdish Cookbo
ok can be ordered from the Hotdish Institute, Mendota Heights. Major credit cards accepted. If you order before the end of 1987, you will also receive the beautiful album (cassette or eight-track) of the most loved hotdish songs, with baritone Ernie “Hotdish” Johnson and his Mushroom Band. Order before Memorial Day and you will also receive Hotdish on the Prairie, a collection of poems by Minnesota’s best-known food poets.
If you want to try experimenting at home with hotdish before your visit, here’s a generic recipe. Roughly speaking, anything goes.
GENERIC HOTDISH (FOR 4)
Mix together in a large bowl:
2 cans cream of mushroom soup
1 pound cooked pulverized meat
2 cans of vegetables.
Stir.
Salt to taste.
Pour into baking dish.
Sprinkle with canned french-fried onion rings or Chow Mein noodles.
Bake at 400 degrees until a brown crust forms.
HOTDISH: AN UPDATE
“Eating In in Minnesota” needs only one or two minor tweaks after twenty-five years. So dive in. You have nothing to fear but fear itself if you use any of the original dialogues as you learn Minnesota-style dining, munching, and mealtime socializing. Your hosts will love you for trying.
The Hotdish Institute of Mendota Heights says that hotdish is still number one on the Minnesota Food Pyramid, and no competitors are even close. Hotdish has also retained its status as the Official State Food. In 1986 there were 3,732 different hotdish recipes extant. On the last day of 2011 there were 4,123 documented hotdish recipes, a significant increase. The random list of hotdishes in Lesson 3 is pretty much accurate up through “Doggone Good Hotdish.”
But a bit of a black eye for the Hotdish Institute is the “Turkey Weiner Doodah Hotdish,” which was awarded the 1985 winner of Le Grand Prix de Hotdish by France. An intensive investigation conducted by a graduate student in culinology at the U of M in 1993 turned up solid evidence that this sick joke was perpetrated by two French chefs. The Hotdish Institute sought and received an apology from the Honorary Consul General of France in St. Paul, Minnesota, but that heartless prank continues to leave a bad taste in the mouths of hotdish aficionados statewide.
I am sad to say that there is no longer a Hotdish Pavilion at the Minnesota State Fair. It was destroyed by fire in 2003. According to the fire marshal, the flames seemed to originate very near where the institute president was attempting to use a propane torch to light the pool of brandy in the center of the ten-foot-diameter Hotdish Flambé, a new recipe created by the Hotdish Institute for a fund-raiser. There were no injuries except to the reputation of the institute.
The Generic Hotdish recipe is still valid and is a good starter recipe for newcomers to Minnesota. In 1997 the institute added one additional baking tip received from a time-strapped working mother who needed to get the hotdish on the table fast. Instead of waiting around for it to bake at four hundred degrees until a brown crust formed, she just turned the oven to CLEAN.
BARBECUES
The barbecue is a Minnesota sandwich consisting of boiled ketchup and hamburger served on a white buttered bun. It is commonly eaten with a spoon.
—“Hand me another napkin, please. This barbecue is not too bad, but it’s running down my arm.”
The barbecue should not be confused with the Minnesota taco, pronounced tack-oh. The Minnesota taco consists of ketchup and hamburger served inside a folded tortilla (pronounced tore-till-a) and topped with Cheese Whiz. Many cooks substitute pickled herring for the hamburger and use cream of mushroom soup instead of Cheese Whiz as a topping. Lettuce is optional. Buttered and folded white bread can be substituted for the tortillas. It is commonly eaten with a spoon.
—“Hand me another napkin, please. This taco is not too bad, but it’s running down my arm. It sort of reminds me of the barbecues we had yesterday.”
THE MINNESOTA SALAD
The Minnesota Salad is an appetizing complement to any hotdish and is composed of Jell-O in any flavor, miniature colored marshmallows, canned fruit cocktail, and a generous dollop of Cool Whip on top. A common variant is to mix the Cool Whip with the Jell-O and sprinkle the marshmallows on top and omit the fruit.
—“Boy, pass me some more of that salad. I love marshmallows with my pork chops.”
Don’t make the mistake of calling the Minnesota salad dessert or saving it until the end of the meal.
The Minnesota tossed salad consists of a few leaves of iceberg lettuce floating on a sea of french dressing. It is acceptable to drink the dressing when you finish the lettuce.
THE THREE SQUARES
Breakfast
Breakfast occurs in the morning and is very close to the national standard. You get up and sit in your bathrobe and stare until the coffee is done. Maybe you have a doughnut with your second cup. When the other members of your household wander in, you don’t speak unless spoken to. Your radio is on. The announcers themselves got up early in the morning and had a cup of coffee before they drove to the station in their bathrobes. They sound happy, but it is a dog’s life, getting paid to sound happy in the morning.
Dinner
The Minnesota dinner is served at 12 noon sharp and is the major meal of the day. In smaller towns the fire whistle goes off right on the money so everybody can stop at once.
Supper
The Minnesota supper is served after 5 but before the 6 o’clock news on TV—which is announced with another blast on the fire whistle—and typically consists of leftovers from dinner, although many people fry up a few potatoes for extra bulk in the winter.
Lunch and a Little Lunch
In Minnesota, lunch is typically eaten three times a day. Lunch is situated before, after, and between breakfast, dinner, and supper. The mid-afternoon lunch occurs between 3 and 3:30. The morning lunch occurs at 10, or shortly thereafter.
If a Minnesotan says:
—“Do you want lunch?”
Your reply should not be:
—“Lunch? In the middle of the morning? I think I’ll just wait till noon like an ordinary human being.”
Lunch commonly consists of a drink—coffee, punch, or Kool-Aid—and a large tray of meat sandwiches on snack buns, fresh-baked cinnamon rolls, and several varieties of the native dessert called bars.
—“Oh, boy, lunch, it’s been over two hours since dinner and I’m real hungry again.”
A Little Lunch
Lunch can also occur at other odd times of the day. It is then called “a little lunch.”
—“Well, what do you say, shall we have a little lunch?”
Little has no more to do with size and variety in the phrase “a little lunch” than it does when you say “I had a little trouble” after the parking brake fails on your car and it rolls through the wall into the No Smoking section of the Perkins Family Restaurant.
Wherever two or three are gathered together, a little lunch will be forthcoming: at 4-H, poker games, Lutheran Circle, piano recitals, town council, funerals, weddings. The little lunch is always larger than the mid-morning and mid-afternoon lunch, with a better selection of bars and meat sandwiches. You can easily make a meal out of it.
A WORD ABOUT GRADUATION NIGHT IN MINNESOTA
On the night the local high school has graduation, the parents of the graduates each put on a little lunch. This is the biggest little lunch of the year. If you’ve lived in the same area most of your life, then you could be invited to as many as twenty graduation lunches. We call it the “night of the long lunch.” You are expected to drive around to every lunch site and not only put in an appearance, but load up your plate with mints, ham sandwiches on snack buns, bars, and potato salad. Wear loose clothing as you begin the journey, or you might need professional help undressing when you get home after midnight.
Several times during your visit with Minnesotans you will be asked if you want a little lunch. In Minnesota a person is never left sitting without a plate of food for long. The good host will offer food ev
ery two hours and keep it in plain view between offers. Never refuse lunch when it is offered, although you can request smaller portions without penalty.
ACCEPTING FOOD ON THE THIRD OFFER
Abrupt and eager acceptance of any offer is a common mistake made by Minnesota’s visitors. If a Minnesotan says:
—“Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
You should not say:
—“Yeah, that would be great, thanks, with a little cream and sugar. And how about one of those cookies?”
We never accept until the third offer and then reluctantly. On the other hand, if a Minnesotan does not make an offer three times, it is not serious. Besides, those aren’t cookies on the tray, they’re bars, as you can see from their rectangular shape and the thickness of the Rice Krispie center.
Basic Phrases
I really couldn’t.
I can’t let you.
I shouldn’t.
Dialogue
—“Want a cup of coffee before you go?”
—“No, I wouldn’t want to put you out. I’ll get by.”
—“You sure? Just made a fresh pot.”
—“You didn’t have to go and do that.”
—“How about it, one cup?”
—“Well, if it’s going to hurt your feelings, but don’t fill it full.”
—“How about a bar with that?”
—“I appreciate it, but no, really, I shouldn’t.”
—“They’re Double Crispie Foghorn Bars.”
—“I can’t. I got my mind made up. I’m not gonna let you give me one.”
—“There’s one already cut with your name on it.”
—“Whatever.”
—“Cream for that coffee?”
—“No, no, no. That’s okay, I can drink it black.”
—“No problem. I’ll get you some cream.”
—“No, stay put. I don’t need it.”
