When I got back from Mexico, I told some Nash-friends about the trip – including the stop in Minneapolis. I mentioned how the airport smelled like mayo macaroni salad, and the waitress at the airport Chili’s talked like she was from Fargo, dontcha know? And told them about Chatterbox, the bar where Jenn and I met up with Minneapolis-friend Emily and how it was like nothing I’ve ever seen.
It had dark with wood paneling with framed 80′s movie posters, the bartender men were all wearing fish scale iridescent, short-sleeved button down shirts (and it was not a uniform), y0u could rent old school video games like Atari’s or classic board games, if you prefer and they had little lamps on the tables and we were actually asked to crawl under the table to plug one in. All it was missing was goldenrod shag carpeting.
But the most memorable thing was the smell. It was overwhelmingly fried cheese curd scented. And it made my clothes stink like fried cheese curd. They all got this disgusted, confused look on their faces that simply meant “What in the world is a cheese curd? And why would anyone want to eat one?” I briefly explained “You know, like from curds and whey? The little pieces that squeak when you eat them?” Blank stares.
But now, a Culver’s has just opened up in Middle Tennessee, so all I’d like to say is “Dear Cheese Curds, Welcome to The South!” And they’re not disgusting, they’re delicious. Eat That.
