Arnie and Vera's Minnesota Feast

This week's feature was supposed to be a French fête with the Casual-Observer's long-time food writer, Chef Maxine DeFenetre, but those plans went out the window. Our office deity, Bernice, made it clear that any new salaries would come out of my suspenders fund. (Suspenders are currency among the mogul set. A tycoon without an up-to-date suspenders vault is no tycoon at all.) Then, just before print, we were obliged to change cuisines, but more on that later. We've rolled with the changes, and here we are. Joining me in the kitchen at C-O Central, stepping in to fill Chef Maxine's elephantine shoes, are the C-O's intrepid outdoorsman, Arnie Tackleman, and our Grenadier of Fashion, Vera Marachino.

Publisher: Welcome, Vera. Welcome, Arnie. As I think I mentioned in my email, you're on kitchen duty this afternoon. Are you two ready to get cookin'?

Vera: List.

Publisher: What?

Vera: You said "cookin'." That goes on your list.

Publisher: Lots of people say "cookin'."

Vera: They're licensed for it. You write it there on your list, and never say it again.

Arnie: Can I make a suggestion, before we get started? I was thinking, instead of Boeuf Borg-Onion and that stuff, what if we did a campfire thing? I have a trout in the fridge. I could rustle up some yukon golds? Make a day of it? Maybe me and Vera could take the canoe.

Vera: You forget, I used to work at Eddie Bauer. Threats of hell won't work on me.

Publisher: Why can he say "rustle up," but I can't say "cookin'?"

Vera: Eyes on your own paper, chap. And why am I here? I don't cook. I dine. I can barely open a tin can.

Publisher: Funny you should mention that. And yes, Arnie, you're excused from haute cuisine. We're doing something else instead.

Vera: Why does that make me feel like a daschund in a sausage factory?

Publisher: So, we got a letter this week, a rather terse one, from a reader in Minnesota, who felt I mis-located her in a comment I made, and seems to think our paper undervalues the North Star State.

Vera: And we're in the kitchen about it because?

Publisher: Because this letter came from a loyal reader. Who happens to be an attorney.

Vera: Ah. Si claro. Fair play.

Publisher: So you'll be cooking three dishes from the 'Best of the Best from Minnesota' Cookbook. Here are the recipes.

Vera: Wait. Really, wait. I mean—no. Seriously. You're joking, right?

Arnie: Hey, my mom has this cookbook! Have you tried the "No-Flop Flounder."

Publisher: Do I ever joke?

Vera: This is a safety violation. A workplace hazard! I'll get OSHA on the phone and blow my whistle so hard, you'll feel it all the way up your...

Publisher: Have fun, you two! You've got two hours to cook. I'll be back when dinner's ready.

Publisher: (Two hours later) How's it going, kids? Smells dee-lish in here.

Vera: List.

Publisher: Sorry. Got it. So, are you two ready with your vittles?

Vera: List!

Arnie: We're ready. Get your bib on.

Vera: Choke him with it, will you Arn?

Course One: Taffy Apple Salad

Cookbook quote: "This tastes like caramel apples!"

Publisher: Well? Does it taste like caramel apples?

Arnie: I wouldn't say so. It should; it's apples in caramel, but I'm not so sure that's what it tastes like. I'd say more like...

Vera: Apples in marshmallow throw-up sauce?

Arnie: Yeah.

Publisher: And this is a salad?

Arnie: Yes, but you have to remember, salad means something different in the Midwest.

Publisher: It doesn't mean salad?

Arnie: It means the opposite of salad. Like cleave and sanction. Care for a taste?

Publisher: I like the peanuts, I guess. And those are definitely apples. Is that vinegar I'm tasting? Did they not think the pineapple was enough?

Vera: I don't think "enough" ever enters the minds of these people. I don't think Minnesota has that concept.

Course Two: Cheez Whiz-Corned Beef Casserole

Cookbook quote: (None supplied; these are God-fearing people)

Publisher: Thoughts about this one?

Vera: Picture a novel where every sentence starts with "Cream of," and you've got your shopping list.

Arnie: Vera made this one all by herself! Well, I chopped half an onion.

Vera: And you buttered the bread crumbs.

Arnie: That's right. Had to be done.

Vera: I want to insult this casserole. I mean, I want to, but I literally can't think of anything as mean as, "It tastes like canned corned beef and hot Cheez Whiz." This recipe has no dignity. It's absolutely shameless.

Arnie: Salty, though.

Publisher: (putting fork down) That is... Wow.

Vera: Exactly what you'd expect?

Publisher: Exactly what you'd expect.

Course Three: Aggression Cookies

Cookbook quote: "The more you knead, mash, squeeze, and beat the general bejunior out of the dough, the better you feel and the better the cookies taste!"

Arnie: Do you guys know—what's the general bejunior?

Publisher: Younger brother of Admiral Bejeezus?

Vera: I swear to God, when I print my memoir—

Publisher: Sorry. How'd the cookies turn out?

Vera: Actually, great.

Arnie: I'm not so sure. They gave me a little stomach ache.

Vera: Well, yeah. They aren't baked with love, are they. By the way, this table—is it yours, or is it, like, rented?

Publisher: Captain Crunch, you cracked the countertop?

Arnie: The recipe might have underestimated Vera, just a bit.

Vera: Don't blame me, it's right there in the instructions.

Publisher: Is this how Midwest ladies keep their smiles pinned on?

Arnie: That and a bootlegger in the afternoon.

Vera: All I know is, these cookies taste like oats and brown sugar and a lifetime of carefully-masked contempt.

Arnie: And butter.

Publisher: (with his mouth full) The aggression really does add something.

Vera: Like it says in my Tinder profile, what, what!

Arnie: You're on Tinder?

Vera: Don't you dare.

Publisher: 'Cause he can't handle such a...hot dish?

Vera: You know what? Burn the list. No more list. Vow of silence, the rest of your life.