stuffaboutminneapolis:
B108FM
On Minnesota’s hottest morning radio show, the energy level is way up but the time is very, very early.
This skit accents a few genuine characteristics of Minnesota’s winter weather. It’s also a little bit horrifying.
I am incredibly excited for my upcoming Thanksgiving trip to Minnesota. Tonight I began filling my suitcase even though I don’t fly out until Wednesday, which means my level of anticipation has somehow overcome my intense hatred for packing.
Two of my coworkers took trips to the Midwest within the past few weeks, and they made me jealous with tales from Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota and South Dakota. It’s always hilarious to hear a Southerner recount experiences from up north. My coworker Travis attempted to test the authenticity of my Minnesotan farm girl-ness by texting me a photo of a calf from Wisconsin and asking, “What kind of cow is this?”
It was a Dutch Belted. He really should have chosen a more difficult breed.
Travis also did some philosophizing while he sat in his hotel room trying to escape the temperatures that seemed frigid to a South Carolinian but undoubtedly mild to everyone else in Wisconsin, I’m sure. He said:
The people of the Midwest are too d@mn nice. I think it’s the cold. I think their preservation instinct compels them to work as a unit because they know that’s the only way they’ll make it.
I don’t care what causes the “Minnesota nice,” but I feel long overdue for a giant dose of it. Also, I just might freeze my buns off this week.
In addition to my official title of writer/editor in the office, I informally serve as fourth floor social coordinator. This position essentially requires me to remember my officemates’ birthdays, announce special occasions and bake outrageously caloric, sugary treats. Luckily, during my youth in Minnesota I cultivated a talent for creating pies and pastries, cakes and cookies. This leads me to my third and final role in the office: Ambassador of Minnesota. I bear full responsibility for all duties associated with this position, which primarily include saying the incorrect word (i.e. supper v. dinner), pronouncing words incorrectly (i.e. car-mel v. care-a-mel) and clearing up incorrect Midwestern facts regarding geography and our former celebrities turned politicians. I also validate statements about Minnesota like those presented to me earlier today.
A while back, the fine folks at City Pages came up with a list of “50 Reasons to love Minneapolis/St. Paul,” and I was asked to review it for authenticity. I’d say it met my expectations. Of course you can read the whole shebang by clicking the link above, but I’ve listed out some of my favorite comments here.
1. Craig Kilborn, Bob Dylan, Judy Garland, Winona Ryder, and the guy who started Pitchfork all left, so we have the place practically to ourselves.
5. We’re the most literate people in the United States, making it a great place to be a geek.
8. We have sidewalks in the sky.
12. The most theater seats per capita in the country.
15. Most of us collectively hate Block E and want to ship Michele Bachmann to Guam immediately.
18. Mall of America is NBD (but darn it if we don’t love that IKEA).
24. Recipes that call for Jell-O and mini-marshmallows are filed under “S” for salad.
30. Target Field is the nation’s greenest stadium.
32. There are more than a few people here who are crazy enough to bike all year round, something that will never cease to terrify and amaze us.
36. We’ve definitely become a foodie town, but that doesn’t mean we won’t find some fancy way to serve you tater tots.
40. The Mighty Ducks 1 and maybe parts of 2.
46. St. Paul is the only 9-to-5 metropolis in the nation while Minneapolis stays open late, meaning the Twin Cities is like an awesome giant mullet: Business in the front, party in the back.
50. Our Senator used to be on Saturday Night Live.
I was struck by an uncontrollable hunger pang while sitting at my desk this past Thursday afternoon. The ache was of no fault but my own because I foolishly attempted to eat a salad for lunch. Some people, namely skinny girls, swear that they can eat only a salad and achieve supreme digestive fulfillment. I have never reached such a state of nirvana after eating foliage. Instead, leafy greens make me long for more substance, and my body treats a salad like it’s a warm up: the light stretch before the carbo cardio.
This is why, with two hours remaining in the workday, my stomach was groaning and gurgling when I unexpectedly burst out, “I wish work was like elementary school, and we had milk break once a day!”
Pause. Swivel. Stare.
Both of my officemates stopped what they were doing, turned to face me, and said in unison, “Milk break?”
“Yeah…?”
“What is that?”
I spent the next five minutes explaining the ritual of milk break to them, so now let’s all relive that enjoyable elementary routine together.
Every day two students were selected for milk break duty, and they would walk to the cafeteria carrying the designated milk break tray. The students would then load up the cargo carrier with little cartons of milk counting each one carefully until they had reached the attendance number their teacher trusted them to remember. Then they would add one orange juice for the shunned (ahem, special) lactose intolerant kid and march back to their classroom with milk in hand. Next the milk break designees would set one milk carton on each student’s desk and sit down at their own seats ready to munch on the snacks brought to school from home that morning. Every student would open up his or her milk carton using the peel-spread-and-push method and hope that he or she lucked out with a good carton rather than one with too much glue. Those buggers required students to start picking at the spout with their fingernail and inevitably drink milk that tasted like cardboard through a milk-saturated, spongy spout.
I would dare to say that ranking just behind recess, milk break was the second-best part of the school day for most kids. I was starting to feel bad that my coworkers missed out on this staple of student life in the Northeast and South where they grew up, respectively, when Travis interrupted me and said, “Oh! You mean snack time!”
Poking fun of the dire state of dietary traditions down South, Travis then admitted that if he did have a snack time like this as a child, it probably consisted of something nutritious like chocolate milk and cheese puffs. I was always a fan of milk and cookies during milk break, which isn’t much healthier than Travis’ treat, but at least it sounds like a more fitting match.
In a generic sense, my milk break was a snack time as Travis said, but I’ve been wondering since Thursday if milk break is a Midwestern term, a Minnesotan term, or a “Laura’s a weirdo” term.
What do you think?
Never mind, don’t answer that.
Travis also said that at times he and his peanut-sized Southern peers all received cartons of fruit punch rather than cartons of milk. Now that is just plain crazy talk.
I took the first real vacation of my adult “working girl” life from July 1-10. I anxiously awaited the opportunity to fly up to Minnesota and replicate the summer break I took for granted each year I was in school. The trip was a perfect opportunity for me to recharge, cool off and reconnect with friends and family. The vacation was packed with events, but I found myself nixing some of the activity ideas I had brainstormed before the trip. I needed some downtime to unwind so the drive-in movie, for example, will have to wait until next summer.
Some of the activities that kept me hustling and bustling were:
- A shopping day with mom
- Overly-indulgent meals and refreshing drinks
- Relaxing by the lake
- Hiking the Mississippi River valley
- A stop at the local winery
- Cruising in the dune buggy and VW Beetle
- Biking on the local trail
- An outdoor concert
- A motorcycle ride
- Pampering pedicures
- Traditional fireworks at the Cannon Valley Fair
- Parades with tractors, trucks and trailers galore
- Family dinners, brunches, picnics and barbecues
- A classic car show
- A stroll and dinner in St. Anthony Main
- A refreshing trip to the swimming pool
- Catching up with old friends
And now to compare with what I’ve done since returning to Savannah:
- Arrive home from the airport at nearly 2 a.m. (It’s impossible for me to go through an entire trip with no flight delays, cancellations or lost baggage, I swear!)
- Work
- Unpack
- Laundry
- Pay bills
- Take out the trash
- Dishes
- Grocery shopping
Why is it that necessary daily tasks seem so much more mundane and disheartening after a trip?
Oh. I suppose it’s because the chores affirm that old saying: “The vacation is over.”
I introduced my coworkers to the wonders of Midwestern salad yesterday. I cannot remember how we started talking about the Midwest’s picnic and banquet staple, but they expressed shock and awe. “Jell-O, whipped cream and pudding in a salad? This cannot be!” they said.
I was adamant that, yes, people make and eat this food. It is actually called salad, and I tried to tell them that variations on the dish are quite delicious. Evidently I proved my argument too successfully: I was volunteered to bring a salad to work tomorrow.
So tonight Lena and I chopped Snickers bars, green apples and mixed in some whipped topping to make — what else — Snickers Salad.
I learned in my hearty debate yesterday that Snickers Salad even has its own Wikipedia page. (How could these foolish coworkers have doubted my authenticity?)
The entry reads:
Snickers Salad is a mix of Snickers bars, Granny Smith apples, and whipped cream or whipped topping served in a bowl.[1][2] It is a potluck and party staple in some parts of the Midwest of the United States, where the “salad” is popular alongside glorified rice, pistachio salad, jello salad and hotdish. It is sometimes included in church cookbooks.[3]
Snickers salad is easy to make: the ingredients are simply combined.[4] As to whether it is a salad or a dessert, popular lore has it that it depends on which end of the table it is sitting.[3] Variations include the addition of grapes, sliced bananas, crushed pineapple, vanilla pudding, buttermilk, lemon juice, sour cream, cream cheese, marshmallow cream, and mayonnaise.[3] There are also sweet variations that include chocolate chips, candy sprinkles, chocolate or caramel sauce, peanuts, and crushed pretzels.[3]
Ewww. I’m sticking to the original recipe for tomorrow. I don’t think my coworkers would appreciate eating mayonnaise with their Snickers before noon.
I’m also taking the Vasa Lutheran Church Cookbook to work. My boss specifically asked me, “Please tell me you also have recipes for hotdish?”
Why yes, I believe I have one or twenty. The names of Midwestern foods are so novel for my coworkers that hype and anticipation are growing for my salad. A few emails have circulated to announce my treat’s grand debut.
Reaction one:
Everyone. Laura’s got this. She’s going to bring Snicker Salad and other Midwestern concoctions. Don’t ask. Bring an open mind. Also, Tums.
Reaction two:
Snickers Salad? A groundbreaking treat!
Man, I’m such a groundbreaker. I’ve really outdone myself this time by making something that takes 10 minutes, three ingredients and slight upper-body strength. But then there’s the secret ingredient: a Midwestern childhood.
