When my friend Tori moved to Indianapolis, she came from San Francisco. I know y’all think San Francisco must be HUGE compared to Indianapolis, but um, no. In terms of largest US cities, San Francisco is ranked 13 and Indy is ranked 14.
Tori did not know this, because Indiana is always depicted like this:
Yes, we have plenty of that — obviously — those are my photos.
“There’s more than corn in Indiana,” as they sing. This is also my photo:
Tori didn’t know that.
Her husband gave her a real estate book and told her check out houses for sale. Now, if you came from San Francisco, you’d be WOWED at our housing market. What does a nice two-story, three-bedroom home on a quarter acre cost in Indianapolis? About a hundred thousand dollars, depending on the neighborhood.
“What’s wrong with all these houses?” she asked.
“They’re in Indiana.”
She was relieved not all the houses were on farmland.
At the Indianapolis International Airport, Tori shouted, “Oh my God, it’s a thriving metropolis!” She had expected it to be in the middle of a cornfield, of course.
Some of those green patches are crops, surely, but mostly, no.
Tori thought we were all farmers and we all churned our own butter. We laughed about this a lot. Alawt-alawt.
In the club, drinkin martinis til 2am, “Oh, no, we can’t go home with you. Gotta be home to milk the cows!”
Waitin in line, number 18 when the license branch opens, “You’d think these people would have more butter to churn.”
Oh how we laughed!
Indianapolis, Indiana is likely not what you think it is. I’m just sayin.
But there are times… Times when you think your Midwestern breeding really might be a culture other people do not understand.
On Monday, Ms Holingue wrote a post which included a section on dairy products. I commented, “I note that as a person who cooks, the cream issues are very hard to understand until you actually MAKE some of them, then it all gets clearer. Mostly. Don’t get me started on the bad math of half & half.”
Then she responded, “Okay, now I want to learn how to make cream. Really? You make yours?”
I bout died.
One, she’s such a foodie.
Two, she grew up in rural FRANCE.
Seigneur! Mon Dieu!
I had to pretend I didn’t read that.
Not twenty minutes later, we saw bits of some show we don’t watch — A woman had come to sell a glass butter churn and the clerk seemed to not believe she could make butter from cream.
And I bout died again.
I was in a tizzy. I began shouting.
“OH MY FUCKING GOD! IS THIS A THING? DO PEOPLE REALLY NOT KNOW HOW BUTTER IS MADE?!? IS THIS THE REAL LIFE? Is this because we live in Indiana? Is this because we all go out to Connor Prairie and churn butter in grade school? Tori would be crackin up so hard right now! Do people know milk comes from cows? People know that, right?”
On the show, a guy brought in four pints of cream and they put it in to churn, and they did indeed make butter.
The woman said somethin about fresh butter on every table in the heartland. The Mister and I nodded.
The clerk was stunned.
I bout died.
Dude. You wouldn’t believe all the shit they can make with a cow these days.
My brain couldn’t reconcile this.
I asked my kids, “Do you know where cream comes from?”
I quick messaged some dwellers of other urban areas.
My friend Lola said, “The unemployed make cream and prisoners make butter. It’s a work release program, and they work their way up to margarine. Once you get on the margarine making line, it’s time to countdown to release and a full pardon.”
I bout died of LOLZ.
There’s supposed to be this sorta education in childhood. I recall many episodes with my own kids.
“No, Baby, hot dogs do not grow in the marsh.”
Bubba took a moment of silence when he found out eggs were unhatched chickens. Sissy never liked honey and once she found out where it came from, she judged us all for eating it. Sassy gave up pancakes for months because maple syrup oozes from trees. The amazed look on Moo’s face the first time she whipped cream… We name the birds we eat, ffs.
It’s not nice to poke fun at people because you know something they don’t. I get that. I do.
Two instances in one evening, though? The heartland questions your upbringing.
I learn things ALL the time, and before I learned them, I didn’t know. Remember having kittens?!?
People know all kindsa things I don’t know, and they’re welcome to laugh, so long as I learn.
I felt odd pedantically writing to Ms Holingue, “There’s no making to it; When the milk comes out of the cow, the cream rises to the top.”
You cannot know how relieved I was when she wrote back, “I realize that my comment implied that I didn’t know where cream came from. Which for someone born in Normandy would be a paradox! But few people do their own from home. Since you write in the preterit, I assume you don’t anymore?”
Oh Thank Elsie! She knew! She knew!
You can watch videos on how to collect your own cream and make your own cheese, sour cream, creme fraiche, etc, but I’m not sharing any of that, because I don’t wanna be responsible for your chic urbanite food poisoning, okay?
HOWEVER, if you don’t know any stuff about dairy stuff, here’s an old video none of us are going to watch.
Happy Friday Everyone!