Land of 10,000 Plates: Stories and Recipes from Minnesota

by Patrice M. Johnson

Overview

Woven into a northland year are food rituals that sustain us and connect us to our region, our climate, and one another. Meat raffles. Fish frys. Pizza farms. Booya. As surely as winter changes to spring to summer to autumn in Minnesota, highly anticipated seasonal events bring folks together for fortifying fare and good company. Still other dishes appearing on the quintessential northland table know no season: Tater Tot Hotdish, Jell-O Salad, SPAM Lefse Pizza, Apple Cider Muffins.

Minnesotans make the most of the changing calendar by ice fishing on lakes big and small, foraging for ramps and tapping trees for maple syrup, marveling at farmers markets’ late-summer bounty, and picking apples and pumpkins in the deliciously crisp fall air. In Land of 10,000 Plates, Patrice M. Johnson highlights food rituals from her own life and explores Minnesota fare far and wide, experiencing the festivals, speaking with revelers, and celebrating the foodways that define the northland. Inventive recipes that mark the seasons$mdash; like Blåbärsoppa (Bilberry soup), Caraway Rye Pretzels, Savory Pudding with Roasted Cherry Tomatoes and Radish, and Coconut Ginger Pumpkin Pie—accompany stories about people who thrive in the North.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781681341682
Publisher:	Minnesota Historical Society Press
Publication date:	10/01/2020
Pages:	224
Product dimensions:	7.90(w) x 9.90(h) x 0.50(d)

About the Author

Patrice M. Johnson, a cultural communicator specializing in Nordic foodways, is the author of Jul: Swedish American Holiday Traditions. She teaches Nordic food classes and presents interactive cooking demonstrations at sites throughout the Twin Cities and beyond.

Read an Excerpt

Diary of a Minnesota Congressional Delegation Hotdish Competition Judge
It was as hot as August in DC, but back in Minnesota folks were bracing for a blizzard. We were an assortment of travelers standing in what we hoped was the Upper Level Door 3 of the Washington National Airport, where our Lyft, shuttles, and Uber apps directed us to meet them to save us from the sweaty April heat and take us to our hotels and Airbnbs.

My driver reprimanded me for selecting the Upper Level because he’d circled for a few minutes below, but he was friendly enough as we sped past the National Mall, where ten years earlier I was a grad student and peripheral member of the Universityof Minnesota ICON Solar House team at the US Department of Energy competition. Twenty little modular homes were set up right on the Mall, and I was our team’s cook. We had two dinner parties in the houses with team members from other houses as guests. It was surreal and amazing, and for a week I felt like I lived right there between the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument, which I could see out the kitchen window as I washed up each night. How cool is that? A few years before ICON, I’d marched with my teen daughter for reproductive choice on the same spot. The National Mall represents America’s opportunity as well as responsibility, and for me it is personal.

I returned, again, to embark on a really cool adventure. I was in DC to judge the Minnesota Congressional Delegation Hotdish Competition. It was the ninth annual, having its roots with Senator Al Franken thanks to input from his press secretary, Maggie Rousseau. Maggie continues the tradition, which brings together both sides of the aisle in an increasingly combative political world. Minnesotans show everyone else what it takes to have a meaningful discussion, even if the topic is how best to showcase tater tots; the best conversations often begin in the kitchen.

That night, driving past the glowing monuments, the beauty of the Capitol made me breathless. For a moment I forgot that politics continue to divide us.

In the morning, my nephew Oliver found me, and we took the Metro from Dupont Circle to Dirksen Senate Office Building. Oliver went to college in DC and had acted as Minnesota senator Amy Klobuchar’s intern the year prior. His good company and knowledge of the map made him an excellent companion. As we stood in the security line, a parade of assistants marched behind a man I didn’t recognize. The man held a foil-covered hotdish with the reverence of Rafiki presenting Simba on Pride Rock. The ensemble left the building with much fanfare, and I wondered if they were non-midwesterners attempting to make casserole cook-offs a thing.

We made our way to the hotdish room, where dozens of reporters were already vying to be closest to the display table, jostling cameras of every shape and size and positioning furry microphones. Senator Tina Smith’s press secretary Molly Morrissey greeted us and got me settled on the judge’s side of the large hearing room. I familiarized myself with the judging sheet. Along the left column were boxes for Hotdish 1 through 10, and the top row designated the point scale: up to 10 points for taste, 5 for originality, and 5 for presentation (meaning the inclusion of starch, dairy product, protein, and Minnesota ingredients). A disclaimer on the bottom of the sheet stated that in the event of a tie the master of ceremonies would cast the winning vote. Contrary to public opinion, politicians can be proactive when it comes to making decisions.

We three judges introduced ourselves, and as the room continued to fill with reporters, the Minnesota congressional members and their interns arrived with hotdishes and varied components of flair: a Minnesota-shaped baking dish cradled something covered in foil, hotdish towels and a matching hot pad blinged out a tater tot number, while Representative Angie Craig and her interns added a basketball hoop, foam finger, and cheeseball basketballs to create a hotdish basketball court honoring Minnesota’s WNBA champion Lynx. The packed room filled with conversation, laughter, and delicious smells. I heard a story about Minnesota governor Tim Walz’s reign as hotdish champion: “He won three times, and he and his staff made quite a production. They formed a parade with his trophies and the hotdish.”

We judges sat at a table while, one by one, samples of hotdish were placed before us. We tasted, we assessed, we scored. Finally, we conferred and realized that we agreed on the top three dishes. “If the Lynx hotdish came with the cheeseball garnish it would have been a contender,” I offered. “And if the curry hotdish was a little spicier it would be my winner.” The other two judges nodded, and our tallied sheets were confirmed before the winner was announced.

Across America there was a rise in anti-immigrant sentiment and racist rhetoric, and it was not lost on me that our three favorite hotdishes represented the flavors of new immigrants: Representative Betty McCollum’s Hotdish A-Hmong Friends, Representative Ilhan Omar’s Little Moga-hot-dishu, and Representative Dean Phillips’s From Monrovia with Love: Liberian Inspired Hotdish. Diversity doesn’t only make us stronger; diversity also gives us amazing flavors. I was reminded of a Minnesota State Fair a few years earlier when I met chef Yia Vang, who introduced me to Hmong hotdish. His tater tot creation tells his story of food, place, and belonging.

You learn a lot about a person when you eat their hotdish. To sit down together at the table has always symbolized an understanding and even a certain intimacy. The food we serve represents our culture, values, likes, and dislikes—and our history. That means that I appreciate your tuna noodle regardless of whether your peas are canned or frozen (but if you really want to get my admiration, you’d better top it with a thick layer of potato chips before baking). The heart of hotdish is its humble wisdom. Hotdish is not grandiose. It is a good Minnesotan who refrains from discussing their disappointment in your voting record before you’ve finished dessert.

Minnesota is not a melting pot. We are a hotdish.

Table of Contents

Introduction 2

Life Beneath the Snow 9

New Year's Eve Fondue 12

Snow Days 15

Hotdish Culture: Tater Tot Nation 17

Diary of a Minnesota Congressional Delegation Hotdish Competition Judge 24

Meat Raffle 30

A Swede in Minnesota Makes Sunday Gravy 38

Ice Fishing 46

Vasaloppet 51

Competitive Souping 53

Consider the Radish, & Other Signs of Renewal 63

Fish Fry 69

Finding the Warmth 77

Maple 80

Jell-O Salad 84

Jell-Epilogue 88

Field Day 91

Graduation 92

Lazy Heat 97

Taking'er Easy for All Us Sinners 100

Rainy Days & Front Stoop Food 105

The Fourth of July 109

Up North, aka To the Lake 116

Farmers Market 120

Crayfish Boils 126

The Main 130

Pizza Farms: Which Came First, the Pizza or the Farm? 137

Corn Creeping 142

It Ain't Over Til the State Fair 145

Butter Head 156

Jerry's Kids 160

Apples 162

Back to School Biscuits 166

Diwali 168

Honey 172

Booya 176

Commercials 181

Friends Thanksgiving 184

Wild Rice 190

Hope 192

Passing Seasons 196

Acknowledgments 198

Index 200