A real example of life imitating crab

Help line operators don’t always save lives; sometimes they enable people to save face. Because no matter what conventional wisdom tells us, there really is such a thing as a stupid question.

Talk about a question you wouldn’t want to ask in person: A friend, who works for culinary help line, told me she had a woman inquire whether it was safe to eat imitation crab if it “glowed green in the dark.” Seems the woman’s son was trying to introduce new foods to his son “without prejudice,” so he took him into a dark room to feed him the imitation crab. To his horror, the crab glowed in the dark. When he told this to his mother, the woman took her share of the imitation crab (she had bought it at Sam’s Club so she had plenty to divvy up with her immediate family and friends) into the closet to see if it, too, glowed. It did.

I was so caught up in visualizing the glowing green imitation crustacean that I never heard what the answer was. So, if you want to know if it’s safe to eat something that glows in the dark, you’ll have to call a culinary help line.


Things Minnesotans can be proud of

1. We’re nice
2. Our state is the No. 1 consumer of Mountain Dew.
Another fact I found interesting is the Mall of America is Coke-free. According to Jack Doyle, the manager of Kokomo’s in the Mall, only Pepsi products can be sold there.


Weighing in on obesity

It’s not fair McDonald’s is being made the scapegoat for the country’s obesity problem when the states have a tool that could mandate millions of people watch their weight.

I came up with this idea in June, when I renewed my driver’s license. While I was required to take an eye test, whatever weight I wrote down was accepted without even a snicker. Since I plan on losing 10 pounds sometime soon, I deducted it from my current weight. Why not? I, like most of America, have been lying about my weight on my license for years.

But what if the Department of Motor Vehicles made us step on a scale after we had our picture taken? (If we had to step on the scale before we had our picture taken, we’d all look crestfallen in license pics, instead of just unattractive.)

Enforcement would be cake. In the course of routine traffic stops, police officers could whip out a common bathroom scale and make the speeder or non-seatbelt wearer prove they really weigh what their license says. Now that’s a sobering thought. A ticket with a fine for every 5 pounds over the recorded weight would be great incentive for ordering the salad at McDonald’s instead of the Big Mac with cheese and fries. Initially, it could increase high-speed chases, as some of us would try to avoid stepping on the scales, but I think my idea has merit. After all, what could it hurt to have more government involved in our business?


Closed for lunch

Meeting FSN columnist Jonathan Locke for lunch isn’t easy.

I let him pick the restaurant when I’m lucky enough to get a couple of hours of his time. For the last outing, he had to make several suggestions, because every time we agreed on a restaurant, it was closed for lunch. The Modern, Town Talk, Aura—all closed. We decided on The Sample Room, which was no sacrifice. Fortunately I hadn’t invited him on the day he was testing McDonald’s spicy chicken sandwiches for his column.

I got there first and was seated on the patio—one thing I’ve learned about Minnesotans in my time here is that they love to dine outdoors. I waited and waited; no Jonathan. Since we had just talked on the phone about the new venue, I was fairly certain he wasn’t going to stand me up. I had a friend do that to me at A Rebours a month ago and it was fairly painful. The server was extremely nice, partially because she assumed I had been stood up by a man and might cry at any moment. What really ticked me off was that it cost me $50 to read a book—once you’re there, you might as well eat.

This time the server assumed I was being stood up by a woman, so when she saw a man waiting in the foyer, she never put one and one together. I had to take the initiative to seat Jon.

But the food was great, especially the scallops, and I got another behind-the-scenes tour of the culinary world and the scoop on Jonathan’s family vacation when the van broke down.

I’d like to thank all the restaurateurs who are open for lunch. You’re performing a great public service. Without you, McDonald’s spicy chicken sandwich might have to be our midday meal replacement.


Fishing for compliments

When I first moved here, I couldn’t understand why anyone would want a cabin at the lake. All I could think of was having to clean two houses. I had started to change my mind after a weekend at Publisher Mary Jo Larson’s cabin, but after having a fish fry at Colleen Miner’s cabin in Star Prairie, Wis., I’m looking for property (not really, but it sounds more dramatic stated like that).

As the president of the local chapter of Les Dames d’Escoffier, Colleen organized a meeting at the Star Prairie Trout Farm, where we toured the lush grounds before catching our dinner. Even as I signed up for the meeting, I worried about being the only Dame who would go hungry because I’ve never fished. Colleen reassured me that the only person lame enough not to catch a fish at a trout farm would be someone who couldn’t even follow a simple recipe. She meant that to be reassuring.

It’s bad enough to have to bring a dish to share to a Les Dames function, now I had to worry about failing as hunter-gatherer. Not to worry, I caught a fish—and I was among the few, the proud, who actually pinched a worm in half and threaded it on the hook. (While fishing was fun, I was shaken by the fact that the fish made eye contact with me right as it took its last breath. I just hope no one in Les Dames organizes a catch-your own-steak meeting. I don’t think I could handle that.)

Owner Marcy Graham gutted the fish with a practiced hand, before releasing us to go to the cabin with our trout.

Colleen’s husband, a psychiatrist, grilled the fish (I personally would have preferred he spent his time talking about my life-death experience with the fish or my phobia of being the worst cook in the room when I’m competitive by nature). I once again had over compensated. I stopped at Kowalski’s on the way and spent over $100 on cheese, bread, crackers, raspberries, an unripe peach (what was I thinking?), a cute kitchen towel, silver cheese knives, two Diet Dr. Peppers for the long drive and fresh basil and tomatoes for bruschetta—which I ended up not making because it seemed like too much trouble after a long day—OK, make that 10 minutes—of fishing.

Another member—someone who is secure in her culinaryhood—brought fresh asparagus which she handed to Colleen’s husband to place on the grill. It was delicious, got lots of compliments—and I tried not to hate her.

The only thing that could have made the day more perfect would have been if we could have put our names on the trout we caught, so we’d know we were eating the one we actually caught. I think, my fish, Rainy, would have liked that.


Why I love women at conferences

I love helping put together the annual Women’s Summit, even if I sometimes grouse about not having enough time for one more project.

Women have gotten a bum rap over the years. We’re not backstabbing, husband-stealing witches who secretly enjoy when one of us fails. I have always found women to be supportive, generous and great company. Some of my best friends are women, and I was pleased some of the many women I admire were able to be presenters at our 4th annual event.

I also like men, so it was fun to have Klecko kick things off. And since he wrote about the experience in the Midwest Wine Connection, I also got to write about my favorite wine pairings. Don’t miss his connection of wine with the conference.