M.C. RibEye – Musician, philanthropist, politician, lives in Lake Elmo, Minnesota.
Killdozer –University of Minnesota student, badminton champion, lives in Minneapolis.
Edmund Callipeaux – artist, college instructor, lives in St. Louis Park.
Merle Higgins – curmudgeonly outdoorsman, lives in Minneapolis.
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M.C. RibEye – 17 March 2009, Sunset – St. Patrick’s Day!
It gives me great pleasure to announce that Edmund and LeTigre Callipeaux have decided to reestablish their long dormant Strange Food Collection. Regular readers may remember Chili Pie’s description of The Strange Food Collection as it thrived in LeTigre and Eddie’s Rochester apartment (23 January 2009, Part 4 of the ongoing Accounts of the Life of Edmund Callipeaux). Upon moving from Rochester to St. Louis Park, Minnesota, the Callipeaux’s decided to dissolve the collection and devote their energies to a variety of charitable and relaxing endeavors.
Two days ago - the Ides of March, no less - I was asked to join a board of directors that will oversee a foundation that will work to curate, catalogue, document, and annotate the new collection. Other board members will include Guy Cheblo and Leadership 5. We will also be joined by Killdozer, a student at the University of Minnesota whose paper - The Strange Food Collection: America, the World, and a 4oz Can of Potted Food Meat Product – interrogates the social, cultural, and aesthetic relevance of the collection within the context of the History of Graphic Design. – MR
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Killdozer – 17 March 2009, 4:00 p.m.
To put forth a mere itemized list of the contents of the Rochester Strange Food Collection would malign the spirit of the collection itself. Indeed, the Rochester collection was comprised of such non-perishable items as Vienna Wieners, Panburger Partner, and Kewpi Mayonnaise. However, the importance of the collection resided not within the list of its contents, but moreover in a gestalt concerning the gastronomical, aesthetic design, and vernacular denotations of the collected products themselves. After all, doesn’t the expression state that we eat with our eyes? If this sentiment has any merit, then the Rochester Strange Food Collection was an exhaustive study of local, national, and international foodways and drinkpaths.
With this said, the joyful experience of viewing the Rochester Strange Food Collection can be put forth by a visualization of the following metaphor:
Imagine yourself at your favorite neighborhood bistro. The service is excellent and the prices are friendly. Imagine that this particular café also has an excellent happy hour with two-for-one drink and appetizer specials consisting of oysters, shrimp, and Mahi Mahi tuna caught fresh daily and flown in from Key West, Florida. Now, imagine that it is sunset and the worries of your day are slowly melting from your mind as cool ocean breezes mix the warm salty air with soothing island melodies emanating from the café’s house band.
Now, take all of that, and, in your mind, transport yourself, the café, the sunset, and the island rhythms from Earth to the surface of the planet Saturn. You’re no longer on Earth; you’re sitting on Saturn, and its planetary rings are filling the sky overhead. Furthermore, imagine that our solar system has two suns instead of just one – it’s now a binary system. So, you’re on Saturn, at an excellent seaside restaurant, enjoying cheap drinks, Oysters Rockefeller and Blackened Mahi Mahi, and because there are two suns, your watching as the first sets to your left while the other rises over your right-hand shoulder. Above, the rings of the planet are aglow in the most brilliant display of sunrise/sunset colors imaginable.
Hold that mental image as I continue to describe how it was to gaze upon the Rochester Strange Food Collection: You’re struck speechless as one day ends while a new dawn arrives. The Universe shocks your senses with cool ocean breezes and a masterfully mixed Margarita. Now, add to this scene - Boz Scaggs – he sings at a microphone while wearing a Moon/Saturn suit and long white pants. He’s the house band at our space-bistro, and he’s on stage with his white pants, his backup band, and several phones that he talks into between songs. He plays “Georgia” as our imaginary cosmic ballet whirls around and your waiter delivers a second round of Margaritas and a delicious plate of Oyster’s Bienville (as a half price happy hour special).
Take the sum of this mental image, multiply it by a million, and you’ll have a close approximation of what it was like to stand before, gaze upon, and revel in the glory that was The Rochester Strange Food Collection. – KD
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Edmund Callipeaux – 17 March 2009, 10:30am
When LeTigre and I moved from Rochester to St. Louis Park we decided to discontinue a few traditions we had developed at our former apartment. The reason for this resided in prior knowledge gained from having changed residences several times over the years. Simply put, elements from one place do not always fit into the vibe of a new living space. Each place has its own spirit that needs to be developed with care over time. With this in mind, we decided not to transport The Strange Food Collection from Rochester to St. Louis Park.
Two and a half years have now passed since we departed Rochester and we have found ourselves missing the collection. Strolling through grocery stores, we’ve often stopped to pondering a can of this, or a box of that, while discussing its well designed label.
Given the amount of time that has passed between here and Rochester, and the fact that memories of the collection persistently sneak back into our minds, we have decided to begin again, and build a new Strange Food Collection – it will be installed prominently in our St. Louis Park home. Any foreshadowing of future events notwithstanding, on the Ides of March, we purchased four items that officially mark the rebirth of The Strange Food Collection. – EC
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Ranch Style Beans: Yellow band with starburst reads Appetite Pleasin' - Real Western Flavor
Lemon Scent Crystal White Octagon
A small keg of sliced green olives!
Hobo Soup: the words running around little man read - A JUNGLE RECIPE FIT FOR A KING
Yellow starburst reads: Send in 3 labels with $16.50 for your own Hobo Soup t-shirt, Sizes S, M, L and XL
Cooking instructions read: HEAT N' EAT (DO NOT BOIL)
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Merle Higgins – 15 March 2009, 11:30pm
Got a flat on Hennepin Avenue earlier today. I steered my truck into the nearest parking lot and got out to take a look at the damage. Tire’s shot…picked up a roofing nail that some liberal bicyclist probably left in the road to mess with traffic!
I cracked open a bottle of homebrew that a buddy and me make and began to get my spare unhooked from under the truck. Looking over my shoulder, I saw what parking lot I was in. You’ve got to be kidding me! This is a co-op grocery store parking lot.
Two seconds later I saw Edmund and LeTigre Callipeaux walking not thirty feet from me.
I yelled, “What are we now, a bunch of Communists?”
Walking over to my truck, Edmund said, “Hello Merle. What a surprise to see you here. We’re just stopping by the co-op to pick up a few things.”
“Hand me that jack,” I said as I threw my empty into the bed of the truck. “It makes sense that you two shop here. I suppose the next time I see you, you’ll be coming out of a dumpster telling me that you’ve turned Freegan.”
Holding up the hubcap so that Edmund could throw lug nuts in as he loosened them from the flat, LeTigre said, “Do you want us to pick you up anything while we’re shopping, Merle?”
I told her that once Edmund was finished tightening all the lugs on the spare, I’d might as well go in there with them to see for myself what this whole co-op business is about.
After inspecting Edmund’s adequate work on the spare, the three of us ventured into the store. They grabbed a basket and we walked into the fresh produce area. I looked around and this is what I saw: people with tattoos; people with radical haircuts and piercings; people wearing bicycle helmets; hippies; freaks; good-for-nothings; liberals and more freaks – all standing around talking about what wonderful organic produce they had!
Organic?
What the hell is that suppose to mean? Organic. Stuff that grows from the ground is organic, right? You can’t tell me that these people think that a head of lettuce is machine fabricated or something. Their brains are all probably all mush from all the pesticides that are sprayed on their precious vegetables. As an outdoorsman, I’ve never eaten any produce that I haven’t either grown myself or bought from a farmer buddy of mine who doesn’t use that crap.
Those damn Callipeaux’s – how did they talk me into this?
I made my way quickly through the produce area. Everyone I walked past was touching five or six things for every one item they placed into these little plastic bags. Don’t these people know how diseases are spread? Those little plastic bags aren’t going to protect them from the woman I watched wipe drool from her baby’s cheek and then proceed to squeeze fifteen or so avocados. Damn.
At the end of the produce area, I found the meat counter. You’ve heard of snow blindness, right? Well, I’m prone to liberal blindness. (It happens every time I bring my cardboard boxes and beer cans over to the recycling center near my house.) It started to happen again as I stood next to the glass display cabinet of butchered meats and a sign that read Organic Beef. There’s that word again – organic – where do these people think beef comes from? A beef machine? What the hell?
Personally, I get all my beef once a year when I go in with a few buddies and buy an entire cow from a farmer up north. The farmer’s son is a butcher who has his own shop, so we can get our cow cut into steaks exactly as we like them. I’ve known their family for years. We hunt on their land, and as an outdoorsman, I’ve rightly advised the old man that the best cattle are free range and corn and grass fed - AND not pumped full of antibiotics and crap. (I was also the one who told him to put up a windmill on his farm, and now he’s off the grid and selling his extra electricity back to the same power company that was robbing him for years with their rising fees and taxes!)
Some guy bumped into me. I stepped to the side as he nudged me again while he tried to get a better view of the meat counter. He was talking on a Bluetooth thing stuck in his ear, he had a bicycle helmet on his head, and he was wearing a full business suit! The liberal blindness was taking hold and my right eye began to completely close down. Adding to my mounting anxiety, it seemed that everywhere I went in the store, someone would try to get in front of me, or look over my shoulder wherever I stood. And the store wasn’t even that crowded!
Even though I was quickly losing my eyesight, I decided to test my new theory. Dairy isle – someone went right for the cheese I was next to. Canned vegetables – someone needed a can of peas so badly they couldn’t wait for me to move past them. Pasta area, same thing happened. Hot dog area, same thing. Laundry detergent. Hair products. Deli area. Bread isle – all the same thing. I began to seek out the most vacant parts of the store, and every time I found a place, someone would come right over to me and practically push me to the ground to get at whatever random item I was nearest. The frozen food isle – that proved my theory once and for all – walking into the frozen food isle, I saw that I was completely alone. I was the only shopper in the entire section. I randomly opened a freezer door and sure enough, some hippy kid appeared at my side and began to reach into the cooler door before I even had a chance to see what sort of crappy microwave dinners were in there.
Dizzily, I found Edmund way down at the end of one isle. I said to him, “Edmund, what are you trying to do to me?”
He replied, “Look Merle! Isn’t this great.”
He then proceeded to show me a can of beans, a can of sliced green olives, a can of soup, and a bottle of dish soap.
Controlling my anger as much as I could, I said, “Edmund, don’t tell me that you’ve never seen canned food before…or a bottle of dish soap. What kind of yuppie freaking world do you live in that you’ve never had to eat food out of a can?”
I was now about 50% in my left eye and completely blind in the other.
Walking with Edmund and LeTigre up to the checkout counter, Edmund set his basket down and walked over to the bagging area. Personally, I never use those cheap grocery store bags…I bring my own canvas bags to the store each time I shop and then I don’t have to worry about some idiot putting my food in some bag made in China or somewhere.
The girl behind the checkout counter turned to Edmund and said, “Sir, could you take your items out of the basket for me?”
I squinted at the blurry basket as it sat right in front of the teller. What in Sam Hill is she talking about? The stuff’s right there! Ring it up so we can get the hell out of here! I can barely see…and the last time this happened, I stayed blind for three days!
Edmund began to remove the three cans and the bottle of dish soap from his basket. My vision dropped to 25% as the teller explained, “Everyone has to take their own items out of their baskets so that we don’t get repetitive stress injury.”
Repetitive stress injury? Repetitive stress injury! Try walking for an hour in the shoes of the guy who picked half the crap you’re selling in this place! Then you can talk to me about repetitive stress injury!
I could barely see six inches in front of my face as we made our way for the door and out into the parking lot. But it was too late, just as we were clear of the doors, a guy wheeled by on one of those recumbent, lay down bicycles and everything went dark – Total Liberal Blindness.
I had to let Edmund drive me back to their place. And it was a tight fit for the two of us. I had the cab of the truck packed pretty full with a couple of cases of homebrew and a stock of material and a new sewing machine. As an outdoorsman, I learned long ago from some friends up north that I can repair the clothes I currently own and make pants and shirts stronger and more durable with my own two hands. And then I don’t have to spend my hard-earned money on any of that cheap crap they make in China or somewhere.
When my vision finally returned, I was sitting in the Callipeaux home. Edmund was placing his cans of beans, olives, soup, and the bottle of dish soap on a shelf near the kitchen ceiling.
“What are you doing now, Edmund?” I asked.
“I’m adding these items to The Strange Food Collection,” he replied.
“You mean to tell me that I lost my eyesight so that you could buy food that you’re not even going to eat?!”
I got the hell out of that house before another attack of blindness could overtake me. That’s the last time I let the Callipeaux’s drag me anywhere with them. The whole afternoon was shot and I completely missed the carpenter I was driving to meet when I got that flat tire. I’m looking at having solar panels installed across the entire south-facing roof of my house. That way, when Armageddon comes and society collapses, I’ll be able to keep the lights on. – MH
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