A pinata sways from a tree against the backdrop of the Central Park Bandshell. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
WHENEVER I ATTEND a culturally-focused community event, like the recent Cinco de Mayo celebration in Faribault, I feel joy. Joy because I’m learning, meeting my neighbors, growing my appreciation for the cultural diversity which defines Faribault and neighboring communities.
Nasra Noor, an author and teacher from Minneapolis, participated in a recent event at the Paradise Center for the Arts. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
The week prior, I attended an event celebrating our Somali population. There, too, I engaged with my new neighbors and learned more about them. I’ve always found gatherings that involve food and music to be a good way to connect. Both are universal, even if different.
While I arrived too late for the dancers, I heard Latino music at Faribault’s Cinco de Mayo celebration in Central Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Even when I don’t understand lyrics, I understand the rhythm of music.
Somali food was served at a past International Festival Faribault, where this sign was photographed, and at a recent event. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Even when I haven’t tasted an ethnic food, I’m willing to try. And let me tell you, Somali tea tastes of ginger and cinnamon and other spices that appeal both to my sense of taste and of smell. Likewise, sambusa, which I was introduced to many years back, are delicious. I love the savory, spicy flavor of these meat-filled triangular pastries.
Among the Latino food vendors in the park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Latino food is a bit more familiar. But, because I don’t speak or read Spanish, I struggle with choices. I asked for help interpreting and translating, choosing a dish that featured shrimp. I love shrimp. Still, I didn’t realize I had just ordered soup laced with shrimp and corn. It was not my favorite. But, hey, at least I tried something new.
Sign on a food truck. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
That’s the thing. We have to be willing to step outside our familiar foods, music, language and more. Then, and only then, do we begin to feel connected in our community. We are no longer “them” and “us.” Rather, we are all one, living together in this place. It takes effort. It takes a willingness to stretch ourselves, to strike up conversations, to appreciate both differences and similarities.
Together in the bounce house at Cinco de Mayo. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
It is the kids who give me the most hope. Kids are kids. When I see kids running, playing, dancing, singing, I see any kid. Not white, black, brown… Simply a kid.
Gathering around the pinata. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Taking aim at the pinata while others await their turn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Scrambling for candy after a pinata breaks. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
Watching a cluster of kids gathered on Cinco de Mayo to strike a pinata, I saw smiles, focus, determination, joy. They each had a singular goal: to get to the candy. They worked together. One kid took a swing, then another and another and another until it was time to pass the stick to the next kid. It took teamwork—a community of kids—to achieve the end goal. And when they scrambled for the falling candy, it was happy chaos. They’d done it. Together.
Children are our future, including this sweet little one photographed at the Cinco de Mayo celebration. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2024)
We adults can learn a lot from the little ones. We are all in this world together. We live. We love. We struggle. We celebrate. We have hopes and dreams. More connects, than divides, us. That is what we need to remember no matter our backgrounds, our language, our food, our music…
UNTIL RECENTLY, I didn’t realize trapping mischievous leprechauns on St. Patrick’s Day was a thing. But apparently it has been and this grandma needs to catch up with that trend.
The grandkids’ leprechaun trap. (Edited photo by Amber Schmidt)
On Saturday, my eldest daughter texted a photo of the leprechaun trap my grandchildren, Izzy and Isaac, created from Magna-Tiles, an empty tissue box, a plastic pot and something else I may have missed. They drew fake coins on paper to decorate the tiles, put fake coins in the pot and were good to go. Isaac is expecting the leprechaun to give them gold. Good luck with that one, grandson.
Lucky Charms cereal, complete with leprechaun trap. (Minnesota Prairie Roots photo March 2024)
All of this leprechaun talk got me thinking about Lucky Charms cereal. So I hit the cereal aisle of a local grocery store. There it was. On sale. Lucky me. Buy three 26.1-ounce General Mills Lucky Charms Giant Size boxes for $14.97, a savings of $2. All I could think was, “I’m sure glad I don’t have to buy cereal for kids.”
Marshmallow magic explained on the back of a Lucky Charms cereal box. (Minnesota Prairie Roots photo March 2024)
I looked at the boxes and, to my surprise, found all the trappings of constructing a leprechaun trap on the back of the large size box. I also found information about the magic held within each mini marshmallow shape. I noted that the shapes have changed since I was a kid. No unicorns back in the 1960s. Shapes have been updated, too. I wonder if the marshmallows taste the same. Chalky. Not all that good in my opinion, but none-the-less magical.
A snippet of the Leprechauns book cover.
Leprechauns are, after all, magical, sans the name “Lucky” for the Lucky Charms cereal rep. I learned more about these two-foot tall men from the book, Leprechauns in the “Curious About” series by Mankato, Minnesota-based publisher Amicus Publishing. It was a quick read with charming illustrations and photos.
In the storefront window of Under Haaland’s Hat Salon in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)
The book confirmed that leprechauns are, indeed, shoemakers, mischief makers and introverts who prefer to avoid human contact. And, yes, they are wealthy, preferring gold to 401Ks; wear green, including their signature hats; and hail from Ireland.
So my suggestion to any would-be leprechaun trappers: Book a flight to the Emerald Isle. Or buy some Lucky Charms cereal to bait your traps.
Only in Minnesota…a Vikings St. Patrick’s Day hat inside the display window of Under Haaland’s Hat Salon in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2024)
Chicken wild rice soup in a hand-thrown pottery bowl at the 2013 Souper Bowl. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo January 2013)
AS AN ART LOVER who also loves soup, the opportunity to buy a handcrafted bowl filled with soup proved a win-win in 2013. Today the annual Souper Bowl is still going strong at the Arts Center of Saint Peter.
Lots of handcrafted bowls to choose from in 2013. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo January 2013)
This Sunday from 3-6 pm, the Arts Center fundraiser takes place at The Capitol Room, an event venue at 419 South Minnesota Avenue in the heart of downtown St. Peter. Here attendees can choose from an array of artisan bowls hand-thrown by local potters and then filled with a serving of soup from local vendors. Cost for the soup and bowl, yours to keep, is $20.
My chosen bowl and soup. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo January 2013)
When I attended 11 years ago, I chose a simple green-with-traces-of-brown bowl for no other reason than I favor simplicity and green, nature’s hue. And I selected chicken wild rice soup because it, too, is a favorite.
Joel Moline and Thalia Taylor kneading clay during my visit to the arts center’s Clay Studio in March 2012. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2012)
In the years that have passed since that pottery purchase, I have used my Saint Peter soup bowl hundreds of times. I love the shape, the feel, the heft of this original piece of usable art. This isn’t just any soup bowl, but rather one made and shaped by the hands of an artist. And that means something to me. I appreciate the work of creatives.
Diners line up for soup or chili at the 2013 Souper Bowl. The event is first-come, first-serve. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo January 2013)
And I value events like the Souper Bowl, which expose people to the arts, bring people together, build community. Sunday will be a busy day in St. Peter as this southern Minnesota city celebrates St. Patrick’s Day in a big way with a parade at 3 pm.
The Arts Center of Saint Peter, 315 South Minnesota Avenue, photographed on a visit there in March 2012. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2012)
With a cooldown expected on Sunday along with gusty winds, afternoon temps in the 30s will feel like the 20s, according to local forecasters. Seems an ideal day to warm up with a bowl of soup served in an artisan bowl.
THIS TIME OF YEAR, throughout the long stretch of winter months in Minnesota, I crave comfort foods. Food that warms me from the inside out. Food that fuels me with energy. Food that makes me feel better simply because it tastes so darn good. Basic, often carb-packed, foods that are staples of generations of Minnesotans.
Topping the list of comfort foods for me is tomato soup served with a grilled cheese sandwich. Both are easy to prepare. Nearly every Saturday from November to March, Randy opens and mixes a can of condensed tomato soup with milk before preparing accompanying sandwiches. He smears butter onto slices of bread, layers processed cheese between and toasts the bread to golden perfection in a frying pan. There’s nothing better for lunch on a cold Minnesota winter day than a bowl of steaming tomato soup with a sandwich oozing melting cheese.
A perfect comfort food lunch: homemade chicken wild rice soup with homemade bread. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Soup and chili are the ultimate comfort foods. There’s comfort in the scent of soup simmering on the stove, in the taste, in the act of wrapping hands around a bowl warmed by hot soup or chili. And then that first spoonful of chicken noodle soup or chicken white chili or tomato-based beef chili loaded with beans or chicken wild rice soup, all homemade. Ah. Every bite tastes of comfort. With the exception of tomato soup, all soups served in my house are homemade by me.
The same goes for macaroni and cheese, another ultimate comfort food. Years ago as a busy mom of three, I occasionally resorted to boxed mac and cheese in my hurry to get a meal on the table. But the unnatural yellow powdered cheese stirred into the cooked pasta was visually unappealing and didn’t taste any better than it looked. Today I make mac and cheese from scratch using evaporated milk, butter and shredded cheddar cheese. I love mac and cheese as much as any kid, unless, of course, theirs comes from a box.
A sandwich board outside the Belview Bar & Grill in southwestern Minnesota advertises some comfort food lunch offerings. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I also love tator tots. We joke about Tator Tot Hotdish here in Minnesota. I haven’t made it in years. But I still like tots. Plain or, even better, topped with shredded cheddar cheese, a dollop of sour cream and bacon bits. Yes, it’s calorie-laden and likely not at all good for me. But, gosh, that combo pleases my palate like no casserole ever could except homemade Chicken Wild Rice Hotdish (not casserole), which I absolutely love.
A plate filled with comfort foods, including mashed potatoes and gravy, served at the annual harvest dinner at Trinity Lutheran Church, North Morristown. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Potatoes are a comfort food. Whether shaped into a tot, mashed, baked or scalloped, potatoes are, for me, a comforting link to my childhood. I grew up eating meat, boiled potatoes with gravy and a side vegetable every night for supper, with rare exceptions. Our food came from our land, from our animals. It was good and wholesome, filling our stomachs, fueling our bodies to labor on the farm.
I recently tried a new banana bread recipe with a whole banana split length-wise and laid across the top of the batter. Delicious. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)
I also find myself craving sweets during the winter. Banana bread and chocolate chip cookies fall into the comfort food category by my definition. A just-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip cookie with melty chocolate or a slice of day-old banana bread satisfy my craving for something sugary. I try not to bake often, though, unless I’m shipping a care package to my son in Boston, the grandkids are coming or there’s a birthday to celebrate. Or the bananas on the counter are getting overripe.
Soon I will crave salads like this raspberry chicken salad from the Amboy Cottage Cafe in Amboy. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
In a few months, comfort food will hold less appeal as winter transitions into spring. Then my food focus will turn to fresh asparagus, rhubarb and spinach salad topped with sliced cucumbers, portabella mushrooms, tomatoes and blue cheese made and aged in sandstone caves blocks from my house. I’ll eat healthier, feel less laden by heavy food. But when the seasons shift again to shorter and colder days, I’ll once again crave grilled cheese and tomato soup, mac and cheese, tator tots…all the foods that comfort during a long Minnesota winter.
Chocolate chip cookies baked by a friend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
WEEKS OUT FROM THE SPRING EQUINOX,The Little DQ of Faribault opened for the season with its usual opening weekend special of Peanut Buster Parfaits.
Randy and I, if we remember, stop by for ours each February. We not only like the ice cream treat layered with peanuts and hot fudge, but we also celebrate unshuttering of the small walk-up/drive-up Dairy Queen as the unofficial start of spring in our southern Minnesota community of some 24,400.
We also appreciate a bargain, the parfaits discounted to $2.49 this past weekend as they are for the DQ’s October closing. Last autumn we missed out on final weekend parfaits by two vehicles. At the drive-up window, after we’d patiently waited in line, the DQ employee told us they’d just run out of ice cream. Argh. The early bird gets the worm. Or, in this case, the ice cream.
But on Sunday afternoon, there was ice cream aplenty at the DQ along Faribault’s Lyndale Avenue. And only two vehicles crept ahead of our van to the drive-up window. We would get our pre-spring equinox parfaits.
Just as we placed our treats in cup holders, the sun broke through a previously mostly cloudy day. We considered momentarily sitting outside at a DQ patio table to eat our treats. But the noisy location at the intersection of two busy state highways is not particularly enjoyable. So we headed to a park near our house, settling onto a picnic table next to the playground and soccer field.
Picnic tabletop message. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)
Before I even sat, I noticed words printed upon the tabletop: You all are Beautiful. Now I don’t condone graffiti, but I do value positive and uplifting messages in public places. Those words tasted as sweet as my ice cream treat.
As I settled in, the sun warming my back, a slight breeze cooled the afternoon temp of 49 degrees. I reminded myself this was only February 25 and atypical weather in Minnesota. We have had an unusually warm and nearly snow-less winter here. Despite a bit of a chill, it was a beautiful day to be outdoors, under the blue sky.
River Bend offers a diverse landscape of woods and prairie. As a prairie native, I especially love the dried prairie grasses, like this singular stem photographed two years ago. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2022)
Prior to picking up our parfaits, Randy and I hiked at River Bend Nature Center to offset the calories we were about to consume. Or so we told ourselves. Now here we were, spooning way too many calories and too much sodium into our bodies. But sometimes you gotta forget the 710-calorie count, the too much sugar and salt, and indulge. We did.
As Randy held his parfait cup with his winter-gloved hand, I braved the cold against my skin and then worked through an ice cream headache. The faint beat of drums and of music carried across the park, presumably from a gathering down and across the street. We’d watched party-goers arrive and I momentarily considered crashing the house party of these acquaintances.
But I had my Peanut Buster Parfait. I had blue sky. I had sunshine. I had Randy beside me. I had people to watch. Young families arrived to play on the playground and soccer field. Ball and bike. And smiles to match that message: You all are Beautiful.
Beautiful. That word fit the moment on a beautiful February Sunday afternoon in southern Minnesota when I tasted, savored, almost-spring.
Books on Central is housed in the former Dandelet Jewelry, 227 Central Avenue North in downtown Faribault. This photo was taken before the bookshop opened in early October. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo January 2023)
THIS SEEMS THE SEASON for creatives. At least in my community. Wednesday evening I listened to local writer Larry Gavin read poems and tell stories at Faribault’s new used bookstore, Books on Central. It’s always a delight to listen to this creative and especially so in the former Dandelet Jewelry Store. This cozy space features a grand vintage chandelier, built-in shelves and drawers, and other historic details that make it inviting, charming and unlike any bookshop I’ve ever shopped. Plus, this volunteer-run Rice County Area United Way bookstore boasts an inventory of 8,000 used books for all ages and in all genres.
Among artists selling their art at Holly Days is Julie Fakler, Paradise Center for the Arts executive director. Fakler is known for her animal portraits, these showcased in a previous exhibit. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2022)
Shopping. This is the season to shop the goods of local creatives. The Paradise Center for the Arts kicks off its Holly Days Sale with an artists’ reception from 5-7 pm this evening, November 16. Twenty artists are selling their art, from pottery to needle felting to stained glass and much more. The sale runs until December 22.
Tis the season of holiday craft sales/bazaars/boutiques. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2022)
On Saturday, November 18, creatives will vend Christmas items (including porch pots), quilts, wood and metal works, baked goods and more in the Trinity Lutheran Church auditorium along Fourth Street in Faribault. My friend Mandy has been baking up a storm, creating cupcakes, pumpkin-shaped centerpiece cakes and more for the 9 am – 3 pm Holiday Boutique Sale. Trinity youth will sell lunch, snacks and treats.
Also on Saturday, the Faribo West Mall hosts its Fall Bazaar from 10 am-4 pm with crafts, flea market finds and baked goods. A bonus feature is kids’ free craft making from noon to 2 pm.
Now, even before all those one-day shopping options open on Saturday, there are non-shopping creative opportunities. The Faribault High School play, “A Trip to the Moon,” is on stage at 7:30 pm Thursday – Saturday and at 2 pm Sunday. It’s been a while since I attended a FHS play. This one intrigues me since its set in 1969, my coming of age teen years.
Promo courtesy of Jeff Jarvis of Cedar Lake Studio/ The Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour.
And then there are Irish musicians, coming from the Twin Cities to perform at 7 pm Friday, November 17, at the Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour across from Central Park near downtown Faribault. Bonnie Drunken Lad, an Irish folk band, is performing as part of the free Merner Concert Series. If you’ve never attended a concert in the historic cathedral, I highly-recommend doing so. The acoustics are outstanding. And you can’t help but feel the history here while sitting on pews once graced by the Dakota people of the region and by early settlers.
An ice cream sundae at Berners’ Ice Cream Parlor in Two Rivers, Wisconsin, home of the ice cream sundae. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2011)
Finally, but certainly not last in level of creativity—and perhaps most creative—is an event from 1-2 pm Saturday, November 18, at the Cannon Falls Public Library. “Baking Yesteryear” is a free buffet style sampler feast featuring foods of yesteryear. Library staff worked with the Cannon Falls Historical Society to develop a collection of recipes from 1880-1989. People could peruse the recipes and choose a food (s) to make at home for Saturday’s sampler feast. I absolutely love this idea. Teen and Adult Services Librarian Matthew Stelter said his history buff teenage son will be there dressed as a 1930s soda jerk creating flavored sodas and ice cream floats with flavorings and ice cream donated by local CannonBelles Coffee and Ice Cream. Now, if I still fit into my 1970s lime green pants, perhaps I could come bearing banana-laced red Jell-O. Period-fitting dress is encouraged.
All in all, creativity defines the next several days. Food. Art. Music. I am grateful for all the creatives who share their talents with the greater community.
A box of food left inside the band shell at Central Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)
A SHARP OCTOBER WIND cut across Central Park, chilling me as I walked. For several months now, Randy and I have power walked here and in the surrounding neighborhood as part of a new exercise routine. But these daily outings have proven to be more, much more, than an effort to raise our heart rates, build strong bones and stay in shape. They have opened our eyes to sides and peoples and challenges previously unseen by us in Faribault.
Left on a park bench, bedding and a bag. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)
That includes homelessness. I’ve come to recognize those without housing security. And although I’ve never stopped to ask their stories, I’ve wondered. I wonder if they have enough food, where they sleep, why they are homeless. And I wonder, what are we as a community doing to help them find housing and more?
In the darkness of early evening, I found this box of food sitting next to a tree. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)
On the evening I noticed a cardboard box aside a tree and investigated, I had even more questions. Food filled the box. Unopened boxes of Raisin Bran and baked goods mostly. Why was this box of food placed there, next to a tree near the band shell?
Bread simply dropped on the grass. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)
The next morning the box sat inside the band shell, a single loaf of French bread lying on the grass. And three days later, when I noticed a cardboard box edging over a trash can, I investigated again. To my dismay, I found the food dumped, a head of cabbage, hazelnuts, baked goods and more inside the garbage barrel. I didn’t dig deeper. Why this unnecessary dumping of food?
A whole lot of food packed these abandoned boxes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)
A variety of foods fill two of the boxes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)
Several weeks later I spotted boxes of food again, this time three boxes left by a picnic table on the band shell’s north side. Inside were half-gallons of milk, eggs, dried lentils, cereal, baked goods, crackers, salad and, at the bottom, rotten pears. The temperature hovered at 60 degrees, not nearly cold enough to keep perishables. I expect someone had good intentions in leaving the food there.
St. Vincent de Paul, a charitable nonprofit located across from Central Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)
I’ve observed people waiting in line for food, clothing and more across the street at The Society of St. Vincent de Paul Center for Charitable Services. I’ve observed, too, volunteers’ vehicles parked outside The Cathedral of Our Merciful Saviour, home to the Community Cafe, which every Tuesday evening serves a free meal. The church sits across from the park, next to a bank, a block from St. Vincent.
Signage posted outside the entrance to St. Vincent de Paul. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)
An acquaintance, whom I suspect is homeless and whom I haven’t seen in the park since I asked if he has a home (I did so respectfully), told me he got food from St. Vincent, ate at the Community Cafe and at Buckham West Senior Center. So I know these outreaches are working.
Central Park, band shell in the background, during the light of early evening. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)
Then there was the evening Randy and I witnessed a drug deal, or more accurately, a suspected drug deal. A motorbike drove into the center of the park and an exchange occurred between two young men. There was a bit of yelling before one of the guys (the one who’d been waiting on a park bench) dashed toward an empty parked car that we’d noticed idling upon our arrival. We’d been warned about drug deals at Central Park. But to be warned differs from witnessing.
And the day I found a small pack lying on the sidewalk, then opened it to check for identification, I discovered a stash of marijuana secured in plastic wrap, along with prescription eyeglasses and a large print Sudoku book. Randy reminded me that pot is now legal in Minnesota when I suggested turning the drugs in to police. So we left the bag, hanging it on a low lying park fence. Days later it was gone.
A empty bottle of alcohol discarded on a picnic table. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)
There’s plenty of drinking happening at Central Park, too, even if consumption is banned, allowed by permit only. I’m no teetotaler. But I am a rule follower. And it troubles me to see this drinking and then alcohol bottles and cans and boxes strewn about. A liquor store sits right across the street. I once saw a young homeless man charging his cellphone in an exterior outlet of the liquor/grocery store. And I recently witnessed a woman, seated at a picnic table, chugging a Hamms beer too early in the day.
Food dumped in the trash at Central Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)
All of this—the suspected drug deal, the abandoned food boxes and trashed food, the homelessness (including the person sleeping on a picnic table inside the band shell, bike nearby), and substance abuse—leaves me feeling melancholy. I don’t know the circumstances, the stories, the situations behind anything or anyone I’ve observed. I only know how I feel. And that is helpless, sad and with a whole lot of questions.
Left inside the band shell, a twin-sized mattress. We’ve also seen a flat screen TV left here. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2023)
I recognize, though, that we each are likely only a financial, health or other crisis away from hunger, homelessness, addiction, despair. And that is, perhaps, what imprints upon me most. We are human. And to be human is to face challenges that can lead into the darkest of places. To be human is also to take an eye-opening walk through a city park to see that previously unseen and in the seeing to recognize the need is great among us.
Across the cornfield stands Vang Lutheran Church north of Kenyon and home to an annual lutefisk supper. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2011)
IN THIS SEASON of church dinners, I am reminded of an event I covered decades ago as a young reporter fresh out of Minnesota State University, Mankato, with a journalism degree. My editor assigned me to write about and photograph the annual Lutefisk Dinner (or maybe it was supper) at Bernadotte Lutheran in Bernadotte, an unincorporated community northeast of New Ulm.
Having heard a few things about lutefisk—cod soaked in lye—I was in no hurry to undertake this assignment. But work is work and I eventually headed to this rural church to get the story. I don’t recall all the details from that late 1970s introduction to lutefisk. But I do remember a hardworking crew of volunteers, enthusiastic diners packing the church basement and my first taste of this Scandinavian seafood. A generous dose of melted butter made lutefisk, which reminded me of warm Jell-O, palatable. Sorry, Norwegians.
Lutefisk dinners remain popular in Minnesota’s Scandinavian enclaves. Like Vang Lutheran, rural Dennison, hosting a Lutefisk and Meatball Dinner on Wednesday, October 11, starring lutefisk and Norwegian meatballs with gravy plus fruit soup, lefse and Norwegian pastries. On Saturday, October 14, First Lutheran in Blooming Prairie is also serving a Lutefisk and Meatball Dinner. Except their meatballs are Swedish (what’s the difference?). Sorry, folks, all three dine-in seatings at First Lutheran are sold out, proving just how popular lutefisk dinners are in these parts. The Blooming Prairie lutefisk dinners have been around since 1934.
This got me thinking about ethnic and unusual foods some of us love and others of us don’t. For example, this past July while vacationing in the central Minnesota lakes area, I came across turkey gizzards and pickled eggs prominently displayed on an end cap at a Crosslake grocery store. You couldn’t pay me to try the gizzards, priced at $12.49 for 16 ounces. But I’d give pickled eggs a try. Apparently there’s a market in Paul Bunyan country for these delicacies. And in some Minnesota bars, not to be confused with the bars we Minnesotans eat.
Ah, bars. They hold two definitions. I recall my native-born California son-in-law’s confusion about bars. It took a bit of explaining for him to understand that bars, besides a place to imbibe, are also, in Minnesota, a sweet treat that is not a cookie, cake or brownie. But similar, made in a cake pan and cut into squares.
Prune kolacky ready to bake at Franke’s Bakery. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2013)
KOLACKY OR SAUERKRAUT
Then there are kolacky, a Czech pastry unknown to me until I moved to this region. It was at Franke’s Bakery in nearby Montgomery, self-proclaimed “Kolacky Capital of the World,” that I first tasted this dough into which prunes, apples, raspberries, blueberries and other fruit or a poppy seed filling are folded. Kolacky are so popular in this Czech stronghold that Franke’s baked nearly 1,800 dozen of the treats for the annual town celebration, Kolacky Days, in July. That’s a whole lot of kolacky, like nearly 22,000.
Me? I prefer a Bismarck oozing with custard. And, yes, I am German, which might also explain my love of sauerkraut. Henderson, where my paternal great grandparents settled upon arriving in America, celebrates Sauerkraut Days annually. And, yes, there’s a sauerkraut eating contest. I grew up eating homemade sauerkraut fermented from cabbage grown in our large garden. My grandma made kraut and my dad thereafter.
Homemade horseradish in jars. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2012)
And once upon a time I also ate SPAM, a canned meat made in Austin, Minnesota, and wildly popular in Hawaii. I liked it in Pizza Burgers—SPAM, onion and American cheese ground in a hand-cranked meat grinder and then canned chili (without beans) stirred in. I haven’t quite figured out the “without beans” in chili. Mom made and spread the mix on homemade bun halves, broiled until the cheese bubbled. Yum. I no longer eat SPAM. Or Jell-O. Make that red Jell-O with bananas, a staple of extended family gatherings many decades ago.
On the shelves at Reed’s Market in Crosslake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
Food, in many ways, connects to memories, traditions, heritage. You won’t find me eating peanut butter on pancakes or Cottage Cheese Pie, food oddities my husband brought into our marriage. I don’t much like pancakes and I’ve never made the Helbling signature pie. Nor have I made my mom’s favorite pie, Sour Cream Raisin. But I love cottage cheese and I eat Raisin Bran cereal. Just don’t ask me to eat turkey gizzards. Or lutefisk. Once was enough for this writer.
Outside Pawn Minnesota, a pirate mannequin standing next to a generator generates interest in a block party. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
PIRATES WERE, AND ARE, by profession plunderers, thieves who attack and rob ships at sea. Even though violent criminals, they have often been romanticized. We’re fascinated by the lore of these daring marauders while simultaneously frightened.
But at least one pirate, spotted recently in historic downtown Faribault far far from any sea, was on the good side of the law. Admittedly he was not real, but rather a well-dressed mannequin wearing an eye patch and sporting a hook hand. On his realistic-appearing right hand, the pirate wore bejeweled gold rings upon his thick fingers.
And he held a sign promoting a Customer Appreciation Block Party from 11 am – 5 pm Saturday, August 26, at Pawn Minnesota, 230 Central Avenue. The party includes free food while supplies last and music by Nacho Y Su Herencia Musical.
A block party in itself is not unusual as a way to celebrate and market a business. But a pirate used as a promotional tool is, well, interesting. It achieved its purpose by catching my eye, enough for me to pause, photograph and feature.
This pirate, unlike real pirates, aims to serve a greater good via Saturday’s block party. Attendees are encouraged to bring cash and canned food donations for the local St. Vincent de Paul Food Shelf. St. Vincent, according to its website, provides “a wide variety of food and grocery items to help out our brothers and sisters in need. Our goal is to be a reliable source of free food that can help nourish those we assist.”
There are income guidelines to qualify for assistance.
Beyond food, the Faribault nonprofit provides household items, clothing, shoes, bedding and kitchenware to those in need. With ever-rising prices, the need remains high. I’m thankful to live in a caring community with places like St. Vincent, the Community Action Center, church food pantries and more. Free dinners are also available every Tuesday at the Community Cafe, housed in the Cathedral of Our Merciful Savior.
And for the pirate holding that block party sign while standing next to a portable generator, I have some kind words. I now believe pirates can change their ways. And generate goodness.
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
I FOLDED THE PILE of pea pods into the front of my Minnesota-themed tee, the one with two grain bin graphics. It seemed appropriate for the vegetable gathered from the Friends of Buckham Memorial Library Organic Learning Garden. Harvest of grain. Harvest of vegetables.
In the library window by the garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2020)
I hadn’t expected to pick peas when Randy and I stopped at our local library Saturday afternoon en route to the grocery store for meat to grill. But when we pulled into the parking lot, I decided to check out the garden while Randy looked for videos.
To my surprise, I found pea plants heavy with plump pea pods. I felt giddy. Garden fresh peas have always been a favorite. But it’s been a long time since I’ve had them.
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)
I hold fond memories of picking and shelling peas from my childhood garden. I loved running my thumb down the seam of the pod, opening the shell to reveal a row of tiny green orbs. So perfect. And then I slid my thumb down that tidy row, peas dropping one by one into a metal pan. Plunk, plunk, plunk, plunk, plunk. There’s a certain satisfaction in the rhythmic process of shelling peas.
Once home, as I shelled those peas carried in my t-shirt to the van, I thought of all those summers back on the farm. I never realized then how lucky I was to eat mostly food grown or raised on our acreage. It was simply what everyone did in rural Minnesota. Planted a garden. Raised beef cattle, pigs and/or chickens.
That evening as we sat down to a grilled pork chop supper (not dinner) with sides of potatoes and peas, I dipped my spoon into those fresh peas covered with butter. I tasted the sun and sky and earth. But mostly, I tasted memories. Garden memories.
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
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