The Funniest Things to Me are when People Aren't Trying to Be Funny... *
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He'd never make it in Minnesota:
Me: I don't like grapes in salad My Mom: You don't eat salad Me: Not the point Mom: ?? Me: Independent of my dislike of salad, I don't think grapes belong in salads. Mom: If I picked out all the grapes would you eat the salad? Me: .. Mom: I don't know how you turned out like this
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*Exhibit A : (I'm sorry, but this STILL makes me laugh...)
I was not raised in Minnesota, but I earned my stripes there during 10 winters as a resident, scraping my windshield through a fog of existential despair. Not every portrayal of the Midwest is based in reality, but this still speaks to a profound piece of my soul. I have been this person. I have been Jerry Lundegaard before murder enters his life, but after it enters his heart, if by "murder" you mean "beating the bejeezus out of a car with a plastic scraper."
I have never in my life heard of a "grape salad." Not at Thanksgiving, not at Christmas, not during a Vikings game, not during the Winter Carnival, not during the State Fair, and not during the greatest state holiday: the annual hockey tournament of the Minnesota State High School League.
But today, when The New York Times decided to come up with Thanksgiving recipes that "evoke each of the 50 states," Minnesota got "Grape Salad."
Now: "Grape Salad." Doesn't that sound like the only thing you were allowed to make in your plastic kitchen when you were 2 years old, not allowed to use knives, and only allowed grapes when they were cut in half?...
And in the I Dunno (Let's Punt) category, you will find Grape Salad, the basic ingredients of which are (1) grapes, left whole, (2) two cups of sour cream, and (3) a cup of brown sugar. (You can add optional pecans, but hey, what is this, Paris, France?)
So please understand: The New York Times has examined the entire state of Minnesota and said, "You know what evokes your state? A bowl of grapes mixed with sour cream, covered with sugar, and heated up, and then chilled again. That's you. That's how you are." After this, I imagine them laughing, high-fiving, and refilling a glass of chardonnay. We all have our preconceptions, after all...
They could have done something with morel mushrooms. Or wild rice, if they hadn't brazenly given it to Wisconsin (the unkindest cut of all — their thing is cheese!). If Maine can have Lobster Mac and Cheese, how about something with walleye? Heck, I would have preferred Spam, which may not be gourmet cuisine but at least does have a connection to the state, unlike grapes, which do not.
Look, I'm not saying nobody in the state has ever eaten a grape salad. It's heated up grapes and sour cream with sugar on it; somebody has eaten that in any state where there are families coming up with simple dishes — in fact, somebody has eaten that in any state where there are mostly empty refrigerators and college students. Somebody has also, at some point, dipped Doritos in peanut butter and washed them down with Yoo-Hoo, in spite of the fact that recreational marijuana use is still illegal by federal law. But that does not mean Dorito Peanut Butter Crunch is a dish, and it definitely does not mean it is a Thanksgiving classic.
I am aware that the Times says it got this recipe from a "Minnesota-born heiress" (note that she's not Minnesotan, but "Minnesota-born," which could very well mean she was born during a family's brief layover at the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport, not an outlandish possibility since there is a lot of snow and we are a hub). But they speak of it as if it is consumed only by baffling zoo animals: "Other versions, I hear, call for softened cream cheese and nondairy 'whipped topping'; I can't say I'll be trying that."
A little advice for anyone making a 50-state map that touches on regional culture: Read every entry you have and think to yourself, "Am I basing this on actual information, or am I basing this on something droll I read in The New Yorker?" Because, yes, Minnesotans eat hotdish (not casserole, please), and there are church picnics, and we can say things like that about ourselves. But it already often feels like the entire middle of the country is swept aside as little more than a collection of Readers Digest anecdotes. Please don't accuse us of being best represented by a tradition (?) of heating up grapes for Thanksgiving.
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