the demise of festival food.

 I have written extensively about the joys of the Brookings Summer Arts Festival, so I probably don't need to tell you much more about it. Here's the short version: it's a giant annual two-day arts festival in Brookings, South Dakota. It's also my favorite weekend of the year (tied with Halloween, obviously). There are amazing vendors and you always see eight thousand people you know and I almost never miss it.

One of the greatest joys of the arts festival used to be the food. Yes, I said USED to be. In my late teens and early 20s, you basically had to commit to being there eight hours for both days in order to eat all the things you wanted to eat. I would arrive each year with a rough game plan of the order in which I wanted to consume said food: frozen hot chocolate and mini donuts for Saturday breakfast, cheese curds and a strawberry smoothie for Saturday lunch, SDSU ice cream for Saturday dessert. Then on Sunday, you would return to re-eat the things you loved most, as you would not get to eat them again until the following year. Oh, and be sure to bring plenty of cash, because the food vendors never took cards.

Flawless, right?

(If you're a 20-something with an insane metabolism and a stomach of steel, that is.)

It WAS flawless. For a while. Until my favorite foods started to disappear.

The first thing to go was the frozen hot chocolate. There was only one food stand that sold it, along with kuchen (which is South Dakota's state dessert and basically a cake/custard/pie all in one). But one year, that food stand was nowhere to be found. Honestly, I was a little bit crushed. It's almost always as hot as the surface of the sun during the summer arts festival, and a frozen hot chocolate is perfect for the sweltering days. 

Ok, no more hot chocolate. But I still had my other favorites.

Next to go were the strawberry smoothies. It needs to be said these were not just any strawberry smoothies. They were hand-blended in front of you using just real strawberries, ice, and sugar. None of this milk or yogurt-based nonsense. They were refreshing, tasted great, and had actual strawberry chunks in them. But then they were gone.

There were several other stands selling strawberry smoothies, so I tried each and every one that year to no avail. They were either dairy-based or syrup-based - not a real strawberry to be found. I was once again crushed.

After my two favorite drinks were gone, I switched to hand-squeezed lemonade. You can get lemonade at almost every food booth, but you have to be very careful about where you actually purchase it. Many of the lemonade options are not actually hand-squeezed - they are just from powder or concentrate. That is simply not what I want. You have to look for places giving out clear cups with actual lemons in them. That's the key. This year, I found my real lemonade at the Brookings High School Marching Band fundraiser booth. I'll be back there next year.

The cheese curds were the next victims. There were several cheese curd stands at the park, but one in particular was head and shoulders above the rest. I don't know what made them that way, but these cheese curds were really something special. You couldn't find curds of that caliber anywhere else - no other festivals, no fairs, nowhere. It was the shabbiest looking stand and only sold cheese curds, so that's how you knew which one to go to. But then THEY were gone. You can still get cheese curds at the park, but they are far inferior to the originals.

But the mini donuts hung on. These were not just any mini donuts - they were magical. You would order a half dozen, a dozen, or a dozen donut holes. You'd get them piping hot in a clear plastic bag with the inside coated in sugar. They would invariably burn your fingers and your taste buds, but it was worth it. These mini donuts tasted less like donuts and more like funnel cake, which is absolutely my jam. The mini donut stand was also run by a non-profit, which you can't help but love. Plus, they were the only stand selling ice-cold glasses of milk. So Midwestern.

This past year (as in yesterday) was the first year without the mini donuts. I felt that familiar sinking in my stomach, knowing that another greasy piece of my childhood had disappeared. 

The final item remaining on my original list is SDSU ice cream. I am not at all concerned about that disappearing - SDSU ice cream is much too important for that. It's an institution in and of itself. Even if, god forbid, SDSU ice cream vanishes from the park, there are still plenty of places to obtain it. Not the end of the world.

None of this is to say I go hungry at the arts festival. I just can't get the super special foods that I used to find only there. I had a funnel cake and iced coffee for breakfast this year, which was not at all shabby.

With the lunch/supper options at the festival being pretty meh (giant corndogs, giant turkey legs, etc), I instead opted to have Nick's for lunch (never a bad idea) and a little taco truck for supper on Saturday. Both were absolutely delicious. 

Oh, and a lot of the food booths take cards now! The fundraiser/nonprofit booths don't, so you'll still want some cash on hand, but the food booths that are full-time businesses do. As someone who almost never has cash, this was a welcome change.

We'll see what next year brings, food-wise - you'd better believe I'll be at the arts festival unless I am actively dying. Maybe I'll see you there. We can share a funnel cake.

cute shit Phineas says, part II.

Phineas is getting to be kind of hilarious the older he gets. Kids are known for their deadly honesty, and he's no exception.

Here are a few more gems from the last several months.

IN CONVERSATION

Phineas: I’m going to get big like Mitch.

me: yes you are!

Phineas: but now I’m little.

me: but you are bigger every day! once you were little enough to fit in my belly.

Phineas: … don’t eat me.

IN CONVERSATION II

Phineas: Mabel wants to talk.

me: What does she want to talk about?

Phineas: me!

me: What would she say about you?

Phineas: mrow.

IN CONVERSATION III

Phineas: do you have a headache today? me: no! Phineas: I’m so glad! one minute later… Phineas: I need to take a break. me: from what? Phineas: you.

BABIES

He told me he wanted to snuggle his "brudder" and laid on my stomach. He even talked to his "brudder" and said: "Hi buddy. I love you." In the next breath, Phineas asked, "Can I hit my brudder?"

(note: he alternates between calling this baby his “brudder” or sister. I’m saying this is not a gender reveal - Phineas just happened to land on “brudder” this time.)

(upon telling Phineas I have a baby in my belly)

Phineas: Did you eat a baby?

INSULTS

Don't get your stinky breath on me!

GETTING OUT OF BED

I want to snuggle for just a few minutes.

LEAVE ME ALONE.

I'm not ready to get up.

BEING SWEET

You're always beautiful, Mama.

You're my Calla.

ON LEAVING

Are you going to do laundry without me?

BEING POLITE

Come swing with me! Ask Dad if you can please be excused!

ON COOKING

I make recipes in the mixer with Dad. We put in the ingredients.

AS A NURSE

Do you have a headache? Let me feel your head. I will get you ice. (returns with one ice cube) You will feel better soon.

APOLOGIZING

I'm sorry, Muffin. (giggles) I called you Muffin!

ON OUR HOUSEHOLD GHOST

(looking in the library at night)

There's a ghost in there. I like that ghost.

the great poffertje battle of Orange City, Iowa.

My mom and I have been going to the Tulip Festival in Orange City, Iowa since 2015. 

The only year we've missed from 2015 to 2022 was 2020 - not because I had a two-month-old baby (we totally would have taken him), but because the Tulip Festival was canceled due to COVID.

There are so many reasons to go to the Tulip Festival: the gorgeous tulips (obviously), the lovely people, the cute town, the fun shops (Next Door Boutique being our favorite), the parade, the food... just everything.

The number one reason to go, though, are the poffertjes.

For the uninitiated, poffertjes are Dutch mini pancakes. One obtains poffertjes at a place called The Little White Store. You buy them by the boat, and they are soaked in rum butter and sprinkled with powdered sugar. There are no words for me to accurately describe them to you - they are nothing short of delectable. Ambrosia.

The Dutch Heritage Boosters have been in charge of poffertjes for who knows how long, and the poffertje earnings go right back into the community. 

Last year, though, there was a PROBLEM.

Another store in town decided to set up their own poffertje stand.

COMPETITION.

Obviously, competition is just fine - most of the time. But when you are a shop that sets up your own for-profit poffertje stand for the first time ever in competition with the local volunteer-run nonprofit who basically makes the entire Tulip Festival happen? Come on.

The poffertjes they were offering had different topping options - strawberry and Nutella, I believe. Not a bad idea, but PEOPLE. Have a little respect.

I cannot tell you how the poffertjes at that place compared to the originals, because I obviously only had the originals. I would venture a guess that the only ones who tried the other kind were those unfamiliar with the underlying douchebaggery. 

Mom, Phineas, and I will be attending the Tulip Festival tomorrow, and our first stop (as always) will be The Little White Store. Mom and I typically end up with three orders for the day: two (one for each of us) right away, and one more to split before we head out of town. I'm anticipating Phineas finding them as delightful as we do, so the Dutch Heritage Boosters can c0unt on more money from us. 

When I checked this morning, there was no indication on this other shop's social media indicating if they would be serving their knock-off poffertjes or not. However, when I checked again before publishing, the announcement was there.

I was hoping they were sufficiently shamed into not doing it again, but that clearly is not the case. If I'm feeling like enough of a sasshole, maybe I'll get in their line and ask them if they are Dutch Heritage Boosters as well. When they tell me they aren't, I'll ask them how the money supports the Tulip Festival and Orange City. I'll let you know what happens. 

picky eaters.

When I was a child, I was labeled that most common of childhood afflictions: picky.

I was never offended by the term. Ok, picky it is. I liked what I liked, namely chocolate cake, hot dogs, and cereal.

Here's what I DIDN'T like that gained me the "picky" designation:

beef (unless it's a burger or a good steak)

broccoli

pork (unless it was sausage)

fish sticks

canned tuna

peas

celery

cantaloupe

lima beans

...

That's it.

And guess what?

I STILL don't like those things. 

Unfortunately for me, those handful of foods I didn't like made appearances in nearly every Midwestern meal. 

Church potlucks were the absolute worst. Everything was some kind of hotdish that involved one or more of the things I didn't like held together with cream of mushroom soup. And don't even get me started on Midwestern "salads."

School lunch could be a challenge, as well. My least favorite meal was tuna gravy and biscuit day, which was a frequent flyer on Fridays during Lent. Not only was there tuna in the gravy, but there were peas as well. Woof.

I assumed I didn't like Mexican food because the only kind I had ever been exposed to was school lunch Mexican - hard shell tacos with ground beef. 

I assumed I wouldn't like Chinese food because I had never had it.

I knew I liked Italian food because it's mostly pasta and cheese. 

I don't remember when I started trying more food - I know it was well into college, because James (who I have now known for 18 years) remembers thinking of me as a picky eater. 

Turns out? I'm actually not a picky eater at all.

I just hadn't been exposed to many different types of food.

It helped to be dating James, who likes almost everything. When we'd go somewhere, he'd always offer to let me try his food. And I always did. That was the turning point for me. Doors were opened.

I thought I didn't like fish until we had salmon at a friend's house. 

I thought I didn't like Mexican until we went to an actual Mexican restaurant.

And so on.

I love Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese, and Thai food. I've had limited experience with Indian food, but I like what I've had so far. I would eat Mexican all day, every day. I still like Italian food, but now I get way more stuff in it.

I can't think of a single cuisine that I would group into an "I don't like this" category. There are certain things I'll avoid, but there's always something for me. 

Funny story: I was in Berlin a few years back for a grad school class. Our professor had lived there a few years back, and he was excited to take us to some of his favorite restaurants. He asked what we would like - there were 12 of us - and one student said, "I don't like Asian." Our professor hesitated for a second and said, "...any Asian? That's a big cuisine." The student replied: "I don't like how it smells."

(That trip to Berlin involved stops in Iceland and Denmark and introduced me to such delights as currywurst, döner kebab, Aperol, smørrebrød, and pears on pizza. Chef's kiss.)

Vacations are when I find the best food. I was in weird fruit heaven when we went to Jamaica: lychee, Jamaican apples, passionfruit, guava, soursop. 

One of my all-time favorite meals was in Massachusetts, and it was squid-ink pasta. I dream about that dish. 

That same trip, I tried my first lobster outside of a single bite at Red Lobster decades ago. I also dream about lobster.

I will admit I do have a hard time trying weird meat. I've tried plenty of unusual (to me) seafood (shark, octopus, squid, eel, crawfish), but I'd be hard-pressed to try a Rocky Mountain Oyster. I have had alligator and rabbit, but they were in sausage and pasta, respectively. I did try James's ostrich hot dog last year, and I have regrets.

Shark. 0/10 recommend.

But the good discoveries just keep coming! Until about a year ago, I thought I didn't like sushi - not because of the raw fish aspect, but because I couldn't handle the seaweed taste. A friend introduced me to the incredible concept of soy paper, and my life was changed. Now I love sushi.

Now that James and I have a tiny person of our own, we're doing our best to expose him to all kinds of food. People have commented that they wouldn't have thought to give whatever kind of food to a kid, but we want him to have a broad culinary experience. Phineas is super into seafood: he loves shrimp more than anyone I know, and he'll dig into salmon and catfish. He likes food pretty spicy, like andouille sausage. He loves Chinese food. He eats whole bell peppers like apples. 

Moral of the story: I was never actually picky - I just didn't (and don't) like traditionally Midwestern-style food. Sorry to all the hotdish aficionados out there.

the church cookbook

We have been in our house for more than three years now, and the process of decluttering is never-ending. I've been thinning out my book collection steadily over the years because - duh - I'm a librarian and can find whatever book I want for free. The books I'm keeping are those that are particularly special or that I know I'll read again and again.

Anyway, the latest victim of my book weed was the 100th Anniversary Trinity Lutheran Church cookbook.

I believe it was published in 2004 or 2005, and I don't think I've looked at it since then for two reasons.

The big one: I don't cook.

The secondary one: the recipes are so adorably Midwestern. So much ground beef, so little flavor.

I did read it cover to cover last night, though, in search of some familiar names. And I found SO much more than that.

My mom, who also is not a fan of cooking, did indeed submit one recipe - and it's something she still makes today. It's also one of the only soups/chowders that I like.

I also found quite a few recipes from my grandma Sheila, who LOVED to cook. She is best known for her baked goods, of which she shared several:

I do have a bone to pick with Grandma: anything with that many ingredients doesn't seem "easy" to me. I do love the exclamations she includes, though ("very yummy!" "outstanding!").

Funny story: I don't remember having any of these desserts. I was probably more focused in her cinnamon bread.

Grandma also included a couple of meat-based recipes, which absolutely sum up Midwestern flavor.

I love my grandma, and I love the Midwest... but typical Midwestern food is something else.

As you can see from these excellent examples, the base of a typical small town Midwestern diet is ground beef. I don't like ground beef in any form except a burger. I never have. That immediately got me labeled as "picky." 

As a kid, I accepted the label. I didn't enjoy 95% of the food at potlucks, and I didn't go for everything on the dinner table at home. Ground beef, broccoli, cream of mushroom soup, any Jello-based "salad"... not for me. I survived on a diet of cereal and hot dogs.

But as I got older, I found out there is a TON of food out there I enjoy. I love seafood. I love all fruit (except melons. melons are a bullshit fruit). I love sushi. I haven't met a cuisine (Japanese, Mexican, Thai, Vietnamese, Argentinian, etc) that I don't like. One of my all-time favorite meals was made with squid ink pasta. 

So I'll let you decide if I'm truly picky.

Besides the endless ground beef-based dishes, there were more treasures to behold - many of which left me shaking my head. I present: the cheesecake with no traditional cheesecake filling.

(I have removed the submitter's name to protect the less-than-innocent.)

I read this a couple of times to make sure I didn't miss anything. I'm no purist, but I feel like a cheesecake with no cream cheese isn't a cheesecake. Or mascarpone. Or sour cream. Or Greek yogurt. Or ricotta. Or any of the endless things you can use as a substitute to get the "cheese" in "cheesecake." This is just pudding with coffee in it.

Ketchup is a huge part of the Midwestern diet. Or, as the Kingsbury County Pork Producers would say, catsup. 

When was the last time you heard someone refer to ketchup as catsup? I forgot that was even a word.

Of course, you can't have a small town church cookbook without some mild racism:

Oof. You can say "they grew up in a different time" and "this was 20 years ago" all you want, but I would bet a large sum of money the old ladies who submitted these back in 2004 would see no problem with the names of the dishes today.

My absolute favorite recipes are those submitted by the wedding committee. According to the cookbook, which gave helpful definitions as to what committees did what, the wedding committee was responsible for serving refreshments in the fellowship hall after a wedding. I don't know how many people head to the fellowship hall after their weddings any more, so I don't know if the wedding committee still exists. But their recipes live on.

Meat salads. My nightmare.

The absolute best, though, was the punch section. There is a LITERAL two-page spread about red punch.

I had no idea of the possibilities.

It's even funnier when you look at the index:

After reading this cookbook, I don't think I can get rid of it any more. It's too hilarious. I feel like this would be a great party theme: everyone pick a section and a dish from said section, except make it good. 

If you are in the need for some bland Midwestern recipes, you let me know - I've got you covered. Especially if it's red punch.

kids YouTube: a diatribe.

Remember a couple of months ago when I complained a bunch about Paw Patrol?

I take it all back.

I thought that was as close to the bottom of the barrel in the children's entertainment universe I was going to get.

HOO BOY was I wrong.

I'm talking YouTube.

We've all ventured into YouTube. There is some truly amazing stuff on there - you can watch long-lost TV shows, learn how to do almost anything, listen to music... it's pretty great.

Every video platform has its problems, though - people have been known to post some pretty horrific things. The stuff of nightmares.

I am not what you'd call an avid YouTube user. I'll go on it every now and again, but I'm definitely visiting YouTube just a couple of times a month. James, on the other hand, is a YouTube addict. He watches the most boring videos I have ever come across - watch repair, old toy restoration, trumpets... snore. 

Unfortunately, James passed his love of YouTube onto Phineas.

It started off innocent enough. There are all sorts of videos aiming to help kids with colors, numbers, and shapes, so James showed Phineas a few of those. 

Once you find something on YouTube you like, you'll get suggestions for other videos in the same vein. That's how you fall down the rabbit hole.

Phineas's color videos came to my attention one day when James pulled up YouTube on the TV and started one of Phineas's favorite videos. This particular video is a part of a massive YouTube channel called Genevieve's Playhouse, which is basically a grown-ass man playing with children's toys and providing narration in his creepy grown-ass man voice.

This particular video is said grown-ass man feeding gumballs to one of those PlayDoh heads where you make his teeth out of PlayDoh. The premise of the video is this guy eating too many gumballs (his teeth turn a different color for each gumball) and having to have his teeth replaced. This video is like 20 minutes long.

It's been a downward spiral since then. 

I have watched one too many of these types of video, and as I'm watching them, I feel like I'm having an out-of-body experience. Like - is this it? Did I finally lose my mind? Am I accidentally on drugs?

Phineas's current favorite is a super long one where various objects get dipped in colors. Eventually, a rather disturbing animated baby shows up and dances.

Soccer ball ice cream scoops. Makes perfect sense.

Phineas is super into videos with unsettling animated children. They all have gigantic eyes and talk like they are aliens trying to trick us into believing they’re human. 

At first, James was reluctant to heed my pleas to end this kids YouTube garbage. "It's educational!" he said. "So are books!" I said. But even James was driven over the edge by the dancing baby, so we are redirecting Phineas to basically anything but YouTube.

So... Paw Patrol, here I come. And I will be grateful. 

the perfect last bite.

I'm here today to talk about something dear to my culinary heart. Something that shapes every dining experience I've ever had.

The perfect last bite. 

It's when you are enjoying a particularly good meal and you make sure your very last bite of said meal is nothing short of flawless. It could be just the right amount of sauce on a french fry or the perfect bun-to-meat ratio on a burger. It's that last bite you take that makes you close your eyes with pleasure. The last bite that leaves you absolutely satisfied.

It's essential you don't eat anything else after the perfect last bite. You might have the perfect last bite of your steak and then be tempted to pick at those last few mashed potatoes, but this invalidates the perfect bite. The perfect last bite must be just that: last. It's the last bite of your favorite thing in the meal.

The last perfect bite I had was at Crawford's in Sioux Falls.

Every January, downtown Sioux Falls businesses compete in the Burger Battle, which is a freaking delight. The burger at Crawford's had a pretzel bun, tomato pepper jam, jalapeno bacon, and black truffle cheese. It was phenomenal. And the last bite? Nothing but perfection.

I'm wondering if this is something just I do, or is it a universal thing? James hadn't thought of a perfect last bite before I told him it was something I do, and now he is a sworn believer.

Clearly, I am of the "live to eat" variety versus "eat to live." Eating delicious food is pretty much my favorite thing to do - the best part about going on vacation is all the new and exciting food options. 

As the great Sophia Loren once said: "I'd rather eat pasta and drink wine than be a size zero."