A sign that survival instincts have kicked in across Hot Dish Territory [Photo: Amy Allender]
Hot Commodity in Times of Trouble
We’ve got to talk about the blizzards one more time. Just once more. Then I’m done. Unless, of course we get another blizzard. If we get a blizzard in May, all bets are off and you betcha I’ll write about it.
But for today, let’s confidently hope that blizzard warnings are in the rearview mirror and we won’t need to lace up our snow boots again until — at earliest — September.
Now that the snow is melting and we are getting glimpses curbs along the streets (who knew curbs could be so dearly missed?), things are starting to look a little more normal. People are running errands. Dogs are being walked. Mail is being delivered. Store shelves are restocked.
It’s the store shelves I want to draw attention to today. The grocery-buying frenzy prompted by an imminent storm has come to a close. So, I’ll take this moment for a little commentary on the one item that flies off NoDak grocery store shelves when a blizzard is in the forecast.
Cream of… what?
Cream of mushroom soup.
Okay, really any “cream of” soup. However, I have it on good authority that cream of mushroom is often the preferred “cream of” because of its versatility. Apparently cream of celery is a close second. Surprisingly, cream of chicken ranks low on the list.
Around here, stocking up on cream of mushroom soup before heavy snowfall or sub-zero temperatures is a survival technique. Before our recent blizzards the “cream of” soups seemed to disappear from shelves as though they were rolls of toilet paper in March 2020. As I did my pre-storm shopping to stock up on my own version of necessities: coffee, coffee creamer, milk, and diapers, I couldn’t help but notice the vacant can slots in the soup aisle.
I can’t liken it to anything else I’ve ever seen anywhere else. Cream of mushroom soup just may be the most singularly unifying North Dakotan item there is.
The need to be well stocked with cream soups separates the native North Dakotans from those of us who aren’t from around here. The weight you place on your cream soup inventory draws a distinct line between the casserolers and the hot-dishers.
Why cream of mushroom? Why cream soups? What do they need them for?
I have two words for you: Hot. Dish.
The True Meaning of “Hot Dish Territory”
There’s a reason I call this “Hot Dish Territory” and this is it. It’s not just that folks here refer to casseroles as “hot dishes.” It’s the prominent place a hot dish has in society. If one is well stocked with cream of mushroom soup, the hot dish possibilities are nearly endless. You could make hamburger hot dish, taco hot dish, chicken and rice hot dish — or, the most popular of all, tater tot hot dish. You could also go the pot-pie route, which I’ve been told is a close cousin to the hot dish.
Tater Tot Hot Dish, in case you are not familiar [Photo: Amy Allender]
When cold and snow encroach, the natives turn to cream of soup and tried and true hot dish recipes just as much as shovels and snow throwers. It’s comfort, familiarity, warmth and faith that this storm will pass and summer will arrive. It’s the beauty of a humble can of soup becoming a mascot for weathering the storm. It’s all of that and more, served out of a 9×13 pan, held together with cream of mushroom soup.
It’s something those of us who aren’t from around here should stop and notice. How do they do it? How do they get through a lifetime of brutal winters and unpredictable springs? Hot dishes. And cream of mushroom soup.
There have been two instances in which something of mine was stolen. They are as follows:
Once, at a pumpkin patch in Delaware, I painted a small pumpkin that came complimentary with each corn maze admission. I brushed on minimalistic black and white stripes, then let it dry on a picnic table while my group went through the maze.
Upon exiting the maze I discovered my pumpkin was gone — seemingly purposefully taken while all the others on the table were left untouched. I was both annoyed and flattered.
The other time was a bit more serious. While spending a long weekend in Galveston, TX, my husband and I parked the car in the driveway of our vacation rental just long enough to change for dinner. When we returned fifteen minutes later our GPS and camera had been taken. Yes, this was in the days of dash-mounted, cigarette-lighter-charging GPS devices and taking photos on something besides a phone.
Upon further search, I noticed another item missing: a Lego pilot mini figure we had mounted near the gearshift. He was a bit of a mascot, and he’d been snatched.
The stolen technologies were inconvenient. They’d been wedding gifts, and we couldn’t afford to replace them immediately. The stolen Lego pilot was a personal affront.
What does this have to do with Hot Dish Territory? Happily, very little.
Is there crime in Minot? Oh, I s’pose.
But when I hear complaints about high crime rates or talk of lurking danger, I can’t help but roll my eyes a bit. I’ve lived in places where walking alone through a park gave me the creeps. I have friends from towns where bars on windows are commonplace. I’ve vacationed in places where Lego mini figures are abducted from parked cars.
Say what you will about the extreme cold. I think it does a pretty good job of keeping the GPS-and-Lego-stealing riffraff at bay. I love Minot for lots of reasons, but near the top of that list is that I feel safe here. I’m never afraid to take my boys to the park, go walking in the evening, or run errands after sunset.
Last week while at the library, I went to the restroom. When I came out of the stall to wash my hands the sink counter was cluttered. Sitting near the edge was a purse — the top bulging open and a phone nearly falling out of a side pocket — and another bag filled with notebooks and a laptop.
I thought nothing of it as I washed my hands. Moments later a toilet flushed. “Ope, sorry about that. I’m hogging the whole counter,” a woman said as she came to join me at the sink.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got plenty of room,” I replied.
“Only in North Dakota, right?” she said, gesturing to her belongings on full display. “Can’t leave your stuff around like this just anywhere.”
It’s true.
The first time I saw a car left running a parking lot — keys still in the ignition — my brow wrinkled. Surely they forgot. This cannot be commonplace.
But it was. It is.
There’s a kindness, an honor code that seems to prevail here. Cars left running will be there when you come back out of the gas station. Your stroller and diaper bag will be exactly where you left them when you’re finished on the playground. A purse and laptop will be okay on the bathroom counter.
It’s just another aspect of life here that has spoiled me. Perhaps even spoiled me toward living anywhere else. The rest of the world isn’t like this. This is special.
I’m not saying crime doesn’t happen. And I’m definitely not implying you shouldn’t keep an eye on your stuff. It’s just that we’ve got a really good thing going here. Let’s not take the beauty of prevailing honesty for granted.
There may be no perfect answer, but I have found the perfect bar recipe
Midwest Bar Culture
“Are you willing to bring a pan of bars for the after-funeral luncheon?”
This sentence was written in a now nearly-decade-old email.
As I read and reread that first request for bars, I could surmise the term was referring to dessert. What on earth was a pan of bars?
I tried to imagine what a funeral luncheon dessert would include where I’m from. Cookies. Volunteers would be asked for cookies. Or maybe the email would just say, “Please bring a dessert to share at the luncheon.”
The fact that the email before me specifically said, “bars,” seemed significant. I searched my mental rolodex for bar recipes, but I came up wanting.
“A pan of bars.” It seemed like some kind of code. Obviously, this was significant. Bars are what you serve the bereaved. Bars are the dessert of choice when celebrating a life well lived. Bars were important to these people, and If I was going to fit in, I’d need to decipher their language. I’d need to become a bar-maker.
All these years later, and I’m still not a confident bar-maker. This is because the exact definition of “bar” is still hazy to me, and locals have a hard time explaining it. Just as they know a hot dish from a casserole when they see it—they can easily identify a bar from a not-bar on a crowded potluck table. A true Dakotan will defend their own definition of “bar” with polite vigor, passive passion, and a bit of nervous giggling.
Bars are part of hot dish culture. And if you want to run with the locals, you’ll need to understand the world of bars, and have at least one go-to bar recipe in your arsenal.
I’ve got you covered on both fronts. First, let me tell you what I’ve learned from locals this week about bars, then I’ll share my favorite bar recipe with you.
My favorite bars to make are these chocolate zucchini bars. It’s the perfect way to use extra summer produce. (Photo, Amy Allender/The Dakotan)
So, what is a bar?
At the very core, a “bar” is a dessert made in a pan, that can be cut into squares, and retains its shape when cut.
However, there are vehement exceptions and additions to be made. Let’s start with the pan. One local was insistent that a true bar is made in a metal 9×13 pan. Another told me the pan material didn’t matter, but if you’re making bars in a pan smaller than 9×13, you’ve completely missed the point of bars. Another said real bars on made on a sheet cake or jelly roll pan—meaning they are on the thin side.
Everyone agreed that brownies count as bars, but they blur the line since brownies can often be very gooey. One local explained it this way, “Brownies are bars, but they are also their own dessert category. If you bring gooey brownies when bars were requested others will probably be thinking, ‘Well that’s an interesting choice.’”
Another mark of a good bar is its ability to be eaten without utensils. As one person pointed out, this trait stops other desserts like cake from encroaching on bar territory. Traditional bars should be able to be served on napkins, for ease of serving. This also allows the eater to hold coffee, probably black and in a Styrofoam cup, in one hand and a bar in the other. Priorities.
If you are asked to bring bars to an event, locals agree that Scotcheroos will always be a safe, and winning addition to any function. There is hot debate over less-solid “bars.” One person said he believes there are neo-bar people out there who would consider layered puddings, or Jell-o desserts “bars,” but it’s up to you if you’re willing to risk your reputation.
With a holiday weekend ahead, you may be heading to an event that will have you mingling with locals. Wow them with your knowledge of bar culture by whipping up a batch of my favorite bars (recipe below). Then join me on Instagram (@amy_allender) and Facebook (@amyallenderblog) to continue the bar conversation. I’m eager to hear your take on the subject!
These bars are easy to make, come together in minutes, and hit all the marks of a traditional bar. Fork optional! (Photo: Amy Allender/The Dakotan)
Perfect Bar Recipe
Chocolate Zucchini Bars:
½ cup vegetable oil + a little extra
1 ½ cup white sugar
2 tsp vanilla
2 cups all-purpose flour
½ cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 ½ tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
2 cups shredded zucchini
Frosting:
6 Tbsp unsweetened cocoa powder
¼ cup butter at room temperature
2 cups powdered sugar
¼ cup milk
1 tsp vanilla
½ tsp salt
To make the bars:
Preheat your oven to 350˚ and prepare a 9×13 pan by greasing and flouring it.
In the bowl of a stand mixer (or large bowl) combine ½ cup oil, sugar, and vanilla. In a second bowl combine the remaining ingredients, except zucchini. Once dry ingredients are combined, add them to the bowl of your stand mixer. Mix well—it will be very dry and crumbly, you aren’t doing it wrong.
Add zucchini and mix again. The mixture will still be very thick. If it looks un-spreadable, add a bit more oil. Spread into prepared pan and bake for 25-30 minutes. They’re done when center of the bars should spring back when slightly depressed.
For frosting:
Combine all ingredients and spread on cooled bars. Allow the frosting to set up before cutting.
Photo at the Peace Garden: Sitting with my oldest son at the International Peace Gardens. Until moving to North Dakota, I didn’t know it was called “The Peace Garden State.” I didn’t even know what the Peace Garden was
The Question
Today, I’m going to tell you a secret.
To understand the secret, you’ll need to know the question I’m asked most often:
Why, Minot? As in, “Why do you insist on liking Minot so much?”
I get this question all the time.
Until the moment my husband told me he’d been assigned to Minot, Air Force Base I didn’t even know a place called Minot existed. Sure, I could point to North Dakota on a map, but I knew absolutely nothing about life in the Peace Garden State. In fact, I didn’t know it was called the “Peace Garden State.” I’d never even heard of the Peace Garden.
That was in the summer of 2012. I had no idea how much different NoDak life would be when compared to anywhere else we’d been. I didn’t know a hot dish from a casserole, or how to distinguish between Scandinavian and Nordic.
That was ten years ago, now.
We moved away for a few years, but Minot, ND—the place I’d never heard of—has somehow become the place I call “home.” In our “Air Force life” my husband and I moved six times in ten years. Of all the moves, and all the places, Minot is where we’ve spent the most time. It’s a place that has given us space and grace to grow. It’s a place we felt so connected to that we asked to return.
This last bit always triggers the question, again. “Why, Minot?” Why come back? Why ask to stay? Why not go somewhere else?
After living in a revolving door of towns and duty stations, our hometown stopped feeling like “home base.” We weren’t from the places we lived, but we weren’t connected to the place we were from, either. It’s a weird dynamic; not being from around here—anywhere.
The Secret
So, how did I learn to adore a place so many others find easy to ignore, abase, and avoid at all costs? That’s the secret. It’s the secret everyone seems to want to know. It’s the secret I’ll tell you today.
It was the people.
This isn’t what you think. Please, don’t write this off as a cliché. Yes, the people are lovely—but lovely people are not the secret I’m telling you today. When I was new in town, I never expected the locals to notice me, invest in me, and prod me into a place of belonging. I never thought the born-and-raised hot-dishers would take me by the hand and insist that I appreciate their quirky culture. They didn’t need to do those things; it wasn’t their job. I found it easy to fall in love with this place because I took time to study and consider the people living around me.
That’s the secret.
Finding appreciation for a place doesn’t need to come through a long list of attractions or ideal weather year-round. Instead, pause, look around, and consider the people.
What’s Your Focus?
When we first arrived, I stopped to consider all the people who chose to call Minot home. Yes, we were sent by order of the U.S. military—but there were literally thousands of others who opted to live in Minot, ND—even though they could have lived elsewhere. I began studying those people, discovering what held them in Hot Dish land.
Each time I was tempted to complain, or jump on the popular-opinion-wagon with all the others hurling negativity at an assignment to Minot—I chose to focus on those around me who wanted to be here. I chose to remain curious about the good instead of arrogantly adamant about the bad. I thought about how rude it would be to complain about living in the place they’ve chosen to call their home. I thought if I could understand their reasons, for coming here, or staying here, I’d discover a sense of belonging, too.
And it worked.
That’s the secret.
It’s true for Minot. It’s true for everywhere. People are always the secret. Instead of expecting someone to convince you that a place is worthwhile—spend time trying to understand their point of view. Never forget: wherever you go there are people who have chosen that place over many, many others. When discontentment threatens to sneak into your heart, focus on the content people. Then, consider what they’re seeing that you may have overlooked.
There are very few things I enjoy hearing less than the words, “There’s nothing to do in Minot.” I’ve spent the last three years intentionally combating this phrase, and the negativity that comes with it.
Before a new transplant arrives in Minot, they have often already been conditioned to believe they are relocating to a desolate and boring expanse of treeless, snow-covered land. This is heart wrenching. Although it’s far from the truth, this notion that there’s nothing to do in Minot can be difficult to unlearn.
I have an unusual knack for finding fun. If I can’t find any, I make some.
A comment I get a lot is, “You make Minot look so fun!” Or “How do you find so much to do?”
Glad you asked. I’m thrilled to be partnering with The Dakotan to bring you ideas and inspiration for enjoying the Hot Dish lifestyle. In these articles I’ll share upcoming events, recipes I’ve developed (think bars, hot dishes, and Midwest fare), or some other tangible tidbits that will elevate your enjoyment of NoDak living.
Today, I’m bringing you a roundup of fun happenings. When I write a list of things to do, I’ll give you one big idea—something that will require a bit of driving or investment to enjoy—followed by easily accessible local activities.
September is a beautiful time at the Peace Garden, but you’ve got to hurry. Full bloom doesn’t last once nights become frosty.
International outdoor fun
This week’s big idea will take you north to the International Peace Garden. As summer turns to fall, time to enjoy the International Peace Garden in full bloom is running out. If you haven’t made the trip yet, now is your chance. The café is still serving a full menu, the newly opened Children’s Natural Play Area is ready for the kiddos, and the mosquitos have backed off—making hiking the trails and traveling via kayak or canoe blissful.
From Minot, it’ll take you about two hours to get to the Garden. If you really want to play tourist, you can stop in Rugby to say you’ve been to the geographical center of North America. Food in the IPG Café is delightful, but if you’d like to eat off-site, I highly recommend stopping at Pride Dairy in Bottineau for the best grilled cheese of your life.
Locally sourced opportunities
Locally, we have an amazing week ahead. Here are a few ideas of things to do around the Magic City.
Thursday, September 15, 9 am-8:30 pm—Friends of the Library Book Sale. Come shop shelves of used books, games, DVDs, CD, magazines, and cookbooks. This is my favorite place to add to our collection of children’s books at home. Take what you want, leave a donation at the door on your way out. If you’ve got books you’re finished with, you can donate them at any time to the library to contribute to future sales. All proceeds benefit the library and its programs.
September 15-18—Mouse River Players Theater Production
This weekend MRP is opening Church Basement Ladies: A Second Helping. If you haven’t been to MRP, the theater is small and intimate. An adorable, small-town spread of cookies and coffee are available during intermission, along with traditional soda and popcorn concessions. Shows may not be Broadway quality, but they are always fun to take in.
Sept. 16-17—Logger Fest
Head to Oak Park for two days of lumberjack inspired fun. The festival will include chainsaw carving, family friendly games and activities, a small-dog race, movie in the park — it’s the Goonies!, music, and vendors. See their website for details and the full schedule.
Sept. 17, 10 a.m.-5 p.m.—Fall Festival on Main
Main Street will be closed on Saturday to host classic cars, food trucks, inflatables, and sidewalk sales.
Sept.19 All Day—Fall Clean Up
Don’t forget to mark your calendar for Fall Clean Up, or as I affectionately call it: Trash Christmas. It’s that magical time of year when all of Minot becomes one, big Curb Alert. Check the city website atminotnd.org for details on what items you can place on the curb and what your location’s pick-up date is.
To find more events happening around town check the calendar of events at VisitMinot.org.
For more inspiration for positive living and embracing life in Minot, join me on Instagram (@amy_allender) and Facebook (@amyallenderblog)
Small Magic can be found in things often overlooked.
When describing why I find life in North Dakota so enjoyable, I usually site a combination of local culture, quirks, and my stubborn insistence on finding beauty in things often overlooked. Giving a singular and concise answer to why Minot, ND has become something of a muse to me, is a tricky task.
No, it’s not the winters. Or the wind.
Truthfully, there is not just one thing that sums it up. But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying to put the amiability of this place into words any time soon.
Much of what makes it so lovable boils down to qualities that can only be expressed through anecdotes or first-hand experience. The appeal is not found in wildly popular attractions I can easily point to, or obvious bustle. No, the things I find most appealing are those found in small, quickly passing moments. These moments can be easily missed. But catch enough of them, and you’ll find intricate charm that rivals holiday rosette cookies, or a rosemaled serving tray.
These moments are better “felt” than described and accumulate especially quickly if we pour a little effort into seeing the good in this place and this time. I’ve found meeting people is easy and organic simply by being present, interested, and eager to understand our town. By being interested, I got to know one person. Then another. And another. Soon, I found myself not only connected to the people of Hot Dish Land, but also the community and culture as well.
Then the magic really unfurls.
Small Magic can be found in the familiar.
I felt this magic as I bumped into familiar, friendly faces at the Midsummer Festival earlier this month. I saw the magic as I waved to acquaintances across the vibrant, green lawn while music from the City Band or accordions wafted across the breeze. It generates a feeling of awe and comfort, knowing you’ll likely see someone you know at these kind of events—because at the end of the day this is a community, and we show up when something special is happening.
These small, but beautiful moments are found in the way others care about my children. It’s how the librarian greets my kids and patiently waits while they sloppily stack books on the counter to check out. It’s how Ms. Kristi—of Main Street Books renown—welcomes every child to story time and calls them by name. We are met with grace and patience when I have a meeting over coffee and my littlest is anything but tidy with his scone. Families are not tolerated here, they are embraced and loved.
I see magic in the way the summer theater audience (me included) flocks to the folding tables serving $1 root beer floats during intermission, and how the sassy teenage lifeguard at the pool uses his megaphone to “score” his friends when they dive. I see magic in the level of excitement generated by the library book sale, and how I almost always run into friends at the pool on a hot day.
Safety in those moments.
I try to absorb the goodness of this place when an elderly man with calloused hands holds the door for me and the boys and tells me, “These are good days,” or I’m told that zoo readmission works on an “honor system,” or I realize how utterly safe I feel in my home, our parks, and at community events. The kind of safety and security a “home” generates. Safe to wonder, safe to be kind, safe to make mistakes and apologize, safe to stockpile the sweetness of mundane moments in my heart.
Small-moment-magic is out there. Not only here in Hot Dish Land, but elsewhere too. We just have to notice it. As our world experiences strife and disagreements—as our world always will—let’s remember to watch for these humble instants and capture them. Maybe today you and I can be the ones who create a moment of good magic for someone else. Let’s try.
To connect with me further and see how I find small, magical moments in everyday life—join me on Instagram @amy_allender or on Facebook @amyallenderblog.
That’s right, I’m talking about Trash Christmas. Formally, I suppose it’s called Minot Fall Clean Up Week.
I know a lot of new folks have moved into Minot since the last Trash Christmas, so I thought it only fair to write about it again. (Read my first article on Spring Trash Christmas, here.) Isn’t letting all these newcomers know about one of our dearest city traditions the right thing to do? Yes. Yes, it is.
Ahhhh, Trash Christmas. That magical time of year when Minot’s curbs fill with cast off items, and we all rubberneck stacks of refuse as we drive by. If you want to get technical, it’s really called, “Clean Up Week.” However, I think “Trash Christmas’ is a bit catchier—and I’m hoping the name will stick.
Every Year There is a Fall and Spring Clean Up
Clean Up Week happens twice each year: spring and fall. Clean Up Week is a time when the sanitation department (read: garbage saints) will come and collect large or bulk items at no cost. It’s a service to residents in that it saves on landfill fees, and eliminates the hassle of getting things to the landfill for dumping. This is especially handy for those odd items that don’t fit into your traditional trash bin—like the ottoman your cat scratched to bits, the garage fridge that went kaput, or that area rug that has seen one too many juice spills or puppy accidents.
According to the city website, items that can go to the curb include, “Household quantities of bulky and household items – items at the end of their useful life, such as appliances, furniture, junk, etc.” The reality of Trash Christmas is much looser, though. In addition to items that have run their course, you’ll find lots (and I do mean LOTS) of things on the curb with plenty of use left.
This leads to the best part about the Trash Christmas holidays: a week of slow-moving cars, trucks, SUV, and even vehicles towing trailers—all trolling neighborhoods looking for items they didn’t know they needed, but can’t live without. Trash Christmas just may be the closest thing Minot has to an actual recycling program. No, there isn’t a convenient way to recycle your plastics, or soup cans—but twice a year, you can put your child’s faded, play kitchen on the curb, knowing it will likely be given a second life. We may not be making milk jugs into park benches, but we sure know how to clean up someone else’s old lawn chair and dub it “patio furniture.”
If you’re new here brace yourself
During Trash Christmas, picking through each other’s cast offs isn’t just “okay,” it’s expected. This is part of our culture—and if you’re new here, brace yourself. There are basically three options:
Decide that this is too awkward and uncomfortable; call your family back home to tell them about the weird place you moved to.
Understand that it’s weird, quietly move your junk to the curb, and ignore the pickers combing the streets.
Accept that it’s weird, but overcome that awkward feeling inside, and pull over to pick up that only-gently-used grill you find on the side of the road next week.
I can almost guarantee you’ll feel uncomfortable every time you stop. I’ve been partaking in Trash Christmas for years, and still get a gooey stomach feeling when I stop to pick something up. Am I stealing? Is this wrong? I should be embarrassed about this, right?
Those thoughts may never leave you, but they shouldn’t prevent you from taking a deep [dumpster] dive into your new culture. You’re a Minotian, now. Finding Trash Christmas treasures is your right as a resident. This is your place, and we—the Clean Up Week picking folks of the Magic City—are your people.
Join me for more
Best of luck next week. Please, oh please tag me in your Clean Up Week shenanigans on social media. You can catch my Trash Christmas adventures, and more inspiration for positive living on Instagram (@amy_allender) or Facebook (@amyallenderblog).
The Minot, ND Library Sale is an ideal place to observe North Dakotans being North Dakotan.
A local friend once told me the library sale is an ideal place to observe North Dakotans being North Dakotan. It’s a place to see Dakotaness on display. Like a lot of things, I didn’t understand until I saw it first hand. Let me explain the Minot, ND Library Sale.
First of all, the fact that a Library Sale generates so much hype is one of the things that endears Minot to me. North Dakotans love books. I’ve lived a lot of places—but book love around here is at another level.
Whether North Dakotans love books more than the average American will never be scientifically proven. What could probably be proven is the above average zeal these fine people have for the Library Sale.
For me, a Sale goes one of two ways.
A) I see an announcement during my weekly trip to the library. Then I text my friends, post it to my Instagram, and probably get a few texts from friends asking if I know there’s a Sale coming up.
B) I may be lucky enough to stumble upon the Sale—or a pop up sale— when I’m at the library.
Then, I revert back to point A and make sure all my friends know it’s happening. Outsiders may say this buzz over a book sale is proof that there’s nothing going on here. I beg to differ. There’s plenty going on in Minot. The fact that so many of us get jazzed about the Sale is proof that we are living a different existence than those outside of Hot Dish Land. To others, it may sound weird—but to me, it’s one of the little things that make life here utterly delicious. You’ll never fully understand it until you’ve lived it.
Second, once inside the Sale you can really get a close up look at local manners, mannerisms, jargon and passivity.
If you arrive at the Sale early, you’re likely to share the space with the most eager thrifters. These folks will bring boxes to carry their books out. Boxes. You can tell some of these go-getters mean business. There could be venom behind every benign “‘Scuse me” and “Ope, just gonna squeeze through,” as book hunters politely vie for the best second hand books on the shelves.
The Library Sale is a great place to practice local etiquette
The Sale is a great place to hone your local manners. For instance, if you reach for the same book at the same time as someone else, it is customary to enter a circular discussion of who should take it. The exchange may go something like this:
Person 1: Ope, sorry. Go ahead.
Person 2. No, it’s fine. You take it.
Person 1: Oh, I’ve already got plenty of books. No worries, you take it.
Person 2: I’ve got plenty of books too. Really. No worries. It’s yours.
Person 1: Welp, okay—but really, if you change your mind just tell me.
As the day goes on the crowd dwindles, as do the number of sideways glances. A new type of shopper comes in. These are the more casual book thrifters. During this portion of the sale you are almost guaranteed to run into someone you know.
Once you do, acceptable conversation topics include: the wind, what books you’ve read lately, what books you’re looking for, and what treasures you’ve found at the Sale (past and present.) Then it’s polite to keep your eyes out for books that may interest your acquaintance.
During these slower moments of the Sale, it’s also customary to justify your books—both choice of titles and number of titles in your arms—and support others in their choices. A good North Dakotan will always spur another on toward adding more books to their collection.
The Library Sale is a great place to practice local etiquette
It’s also a perfect time to practice your Hot Dish jargon. Never tried using “uffda” or “oh, I s’pose” in conversation? Now is your chance.
The Library Sale is one of the most local things I do. It’s one of the things I say proves I’ve gone “full Minot.” If you don’t understand the hype or haven’t knowingly nodded your head while reading this—you might not be from around here.
If you want to understand the heart pounding passive excitement that is the Sale—you’re in luck. The next sale is scheduled for October 20 and runs on freewill donation—so just give what you can.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go figure out how to justify the books I brought home from the Sale to my husband.
For more antics and anecdotes and tips for positive living join me on Instagram and Facebook.
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