America: 50☆Stars (Vol. 3)

Episode 47: Spice and Milk

In the spirit of the Christmas holidays, Minnesota got together with Wisconsin and the Dakotas to make lefse—a traditional soft Norwegian flatbread made of potatoes, flour, butter, and milk.

"Yum! Nothing beats a freshly-made lefse!" South Dakota hummed, munching on rolled-up lefse.

"You betcha," Wisconsin smiled as she cooked them on a large griddle.

"Remember to save some room for dinner," Minnesota reminded them. "The lutefisk will be ready in an hour when it's done baking in the oven."

"Oh, I can't wait..." South Dakota chuckled awkwardly, not too enthused to eat the exotic delicacy for dinner. She turned to her brother and noticed his half-eaten rolled-up lefse. "Do you have rona or what?"

"Huh?" He gave her a baffled look. "No. I wouldn't be here if I had it."

She pursed her lips. "Well, if it's not rona, something must be wrong with you if you can't finish a single lefse."

"There's nothing wrong with me."

"Do you not like the lefse?" Minnesota questioned.

"No. The lefse is fine—just fine..." North Dakota sighed. "Have you guys ever felt like missing out on something people say is so good it forces you to check it out, only to feel confused by the hype because you feel differently about it? I know it sounds complicated."

"No worries, bud. I've been in that situation plenty of times," Wisconsin chuckled. "Like the Dune movie that came out months ago, I only heard about it from social media. A lot of people were praising the heck out of it, and they convinced me to go check it out. I thought it would be an amazing sci-fi movie as they said. When I came out of the theater, however, I was honestly disappointed. The whole movie felt slow and boring."

"Anyway, how does that relate to your lack of appetite?" South Dakota questioned.

"There's this Thai restaurant in my home," he recounted. "I heard people rave about how tasty their food was, so I decided to check it out. On my first visit, I ordered what I think was called a Tom Yum. It sounded delicious, and it didn't look bad either. The only problem was the dish being spicy. I thought I could handle it. I had a gallon of water in front of me." He let out a disappointed groan. "I nearly died after a couple of sips. It was so embarrassing. People in the restaurant were staring at me. I went out of my way to apologize to the cook because I felt so bad not being able to finish it."

"That sucks. But hey," she patted him on the shoulder, "you shouldn't feel too bad about it. Thai food isn't for everyone."

"But that's the thing troubling me," North Dakota grimaced. "Despite the terrible feeling of my tongue getting set on fire, I can see why people like Thai food. Their cuisine is fresh, colorful, and flavorful. I truly want to appreciate how good their food is, but..." He hung his head. "When I went to the Thai restaurant for a second visit, they turned me away, saying it was for my safety," he whined. "Why? Why can't I enjoy spicy food?"

"Calm down. It's not the end of the world if we pretend Omicron sounds like the name of a Decepticon. I mean, you're not the only person unable to handle spicy food. I can't stand spicy food either."

"Me, too," Minnesota agreed. "The only spice I can tolerate is black pepper."

"Same with me," Wisconsin grinned. "I gotta have milk with buffalo wings, or I'll have liquids coming out of my eyes and nose. It ain't a pretty sight."

"You see," South Dakota smirked. "There's no shame in not liking spice. It's not a bad thing."

"No! You don't get it!" North Dakota grabbed and shook her shoulders. "Spicy food is the hottest trend in the food world. Folks are going crazy for Thai noodles, Indian curry, and Chinese kung pao chicken. There's even clamor for authentic Mexican food."