I never promised you a hash-brown casserole

I think we all know what time it almost is. It's almost casserole season. Let's get pumped. Oh wait...I'm in New York now? Well crap.

Le sigh. Sometimes I forget what a novelty casserole type foods are. For in the Midwest they are a staple, like collegiate state T-shirts or making sure your offspring knows the catchphrase to monitor corn's growing progress ("How tall must the corn be to be a marketable crop, Jimmy?" "Knee high by the forth of July?" "Good job son, here's a butter cookie.")

Ah casseroles. Hearty. Filling. Full of many different foods combined to bake well at high temperatures. Expect one if your husband broke his foot or your dog died. Your neighbor will bring it over and tell you he/she made you some tuna noodle casserole because it reheats like a dream. They will then express sympathy for your hardship and remind you of the proper cooking duration and temperature. They will make sure to mention this several times in conversation, passive-aggressively make a dig at you decor, and leave.

It seems there are many differences between the two regions I now identify with, especially when it comes to food. To clarify, I now present to you, a summary of a typical Midwestern Family Dinner or MFD. We begin:

My sisters and I indulge in some idle gossip while my mother bemoans such talk and then proceeds to tell us all about the lesbian neighbors' latest row. She then tells us to set the table. We down our old-fashioneds, and, obnoxiously quoting "Little Women", obey. Because that's what we do in the middle of the country. What we're told.

We say a before-meal prayer, made awkward by the fact that two out of the three of us daughters are at least agnostic; we might live in the Heartland, but times are still a'changing. But like our love of the word "pop" our Midwestern moral compasses endure, don't you worry. 

We spend a moment inquiring about the origin of the potatoes comprising the three to four starch-filled dishes that come standard with any dinner in the Land of Heart. We settle on Idaho and Wisconsin and bemoan those states for not being Illinois. The Mars Cheese Castle at the Illinois/Wisconsin boarder is the next topic, and my sisters and I mock it while we are secretly heartbroken that we have never actually stopped there on our way to the Wisconsin wilderness. 

Wait they serve cocktails?? Why have we never stopped here???

My mother will talk about distant family that we don't know being dead or close to death as my sisters and I get seconds. My father will get frustrated at the dogs as they climb on chairs and tables in an effort to eat some chicken and rice bake. He will swear and go get a beer. One brewed in either St. Louis or Milwaukee because other beer simply doesn't exist. He will be taciturn and morose the rest of the evening until he falls asleep in a chair by 7:30.

Dessert follows and is either a banana pudding, or a Duncan Hines cake mix with too much frosting. As "Wheel of Fortune  comes on the TV, we know it's time to leave, and after making sure we help clear the table, we depart, with tupperware full of leftovers in our arms. Because after all, in case you weren't aware, casserole is easily reheated. But god help you if you stick it in an oven set higher than 350. God. Help. You.

 Ahh yes, I miss it already.