I’m kind of “meh” about things most people are probably excited about, and I get excited about the “meh.”
I wanted the Superbowl to end so I could watch The Voice, have found The Hodo’s food to be only “o.k.” (though I like the atmosphere) and would rather elope than entertain thoughts of planning a fluffy, white wedding, which I consider horrifying.
Even while I have been in long-term relationship, I have found Valentine’s day to be stupid and yet another occurrence where I have to buy more stuff.
This changed when Jake gave me a potato ricer.
A potato ricer!
I have wanted a potato ricer for the past couple of years but have been too lazy to actually buy one, myself. Behold, my beautiful potato ricer. I am jumping out of my pants to make a huge batch of lefse, a food I love dearly and have wanted to make for years.
Yesterday, I found myself in Bernie’s Wines and Liquors, searching for a last minute Valentine’s Day gift. As I reached for a cheap bottle of champagne, I noticed a small mound of Hopslam sitting undisturbed and untouched.
I quickly ditched the champagne and walked up to the small pile of cases for closer examination. Sure enough, it was Hopslam. I grabbed a six-pack, and felt thankful I had found Jake the perfect Valentine’s day present, thus ending my search.
As I checked out, I mentioned that I could not believe Bernie’s had Hopslam and that Jake would probably soil himself with excitement. I had not entertained the possibility of finding Hopslam, except for a glass at the Hodo. Especially since Twin Cities stores seemed to have sold out hours earlier.
Unable to wait until Valentine’s Day, I unveiled the Hopslam when Jake got home from work. What was supposed to be a laid-back evening of rest turned into Jake’s crazed Hopslam quest.
Fortunately, it wasn’t too hard to find more Hopslam and we easily secured two cases at Bridgeview Liquors. We can add “Hopslam is easy to find” to my list of things I like about Fargo.
This past weekend, I went back to the Twin Cities for family celebrations. As I mentioned in previous posts, my mom passed away in 2008. My dad and his wife just moved into a new home and brought me a box of kitchen gadgets to sort through.
I just as elated to find my mother’s rolling pin, as I was to receive a sparkly, new potato ricer. There’s something beautiful about passing down a rolling pin from mother to daughter.
Forget about Hopslam. I nearly soiled myself when I found an old booklet of recipes from Korean Culture Camp. If the booklet hadn’t included a recipe for the mandu I cherished by the bagful each summer, I might have been slightly offended by the ridiculous font.
No other mandu has ever tasted the same and I am so excited to make these dumplings.
Finally, I snatched a ridiculously heavy, cast iron Santa Bear sandwich cookie pan circa 1986. Dear employer, until this weekend, I will be distracted by thoughts of orange-scented Santa Bear sandwich cookies filled with butter cream frosting.