An Unsolved Mystery: What Became Of Dottie?

When the weather turns sub-zero, my thoughts turn to carbohydrates.  All kinds of carbohydrates.  Some of which are meant to be eaten with delicious stews and soups.

Carbohydrates like corn bread.

Homemade.  Using Dottie Dorsel’s Corn Meal, a regional favorite.  A product packaged in a rectangular shape made of thick paper.  Traditional.  Easy to find on the shelf.

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So I went to ye olde K. Roger to a buy some of Dottie Dorsel’s Corn Meal and instead what I found was Dorsel’s Corn Meal.  Packaged in a slick corporate plastic bag with a zip top and large writing that excluded Dottie’s name.

This, I said to myself, is an outrage.

I mean, Betty is still with Crocker.  Duncan is still with Hines.  Aunt is still with Jemima.  [Okay, the last one’s not the same, but go with me here.  I’m on a rant.]

SO WHAT HAPPENED TO DOTTIE DORSEL?

The heroine of our story.

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{ Image courtesy of dannwoellertthefoodetymologist }

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Naturally I started researching this mystery because it’s fricking cold outside and I ain’t going anywhere on foot or car [if I can help it] I had the time and I was curious to see how the current owners of Dottie Dorsel’s Corn Meal would explain themselves.

I discovered that:

  • Dottie Dorsel, aka Dorathea Dorsel, was a real person from northern Kentucky whose father owned The Dorsel Milling Company in the late 1800s.
  • I learned from a recipe in a 1999 cookbook that the company was at that time called the Dottie Dorsel Company.
  • I know that today Prairie Mills owns, what it refers to as, Dorsels Brands.
  • I cannot find any corporate PR releases or newspaper articles that talk about the change in packaging– or why Dottie’s delightfully alliterative name was left off the new package.
  • I can find some recipes online [here and here] from the early 2000s that mention using Dottie Dorsel Pinhead Oat Meal (another regional favorite), but Corn Meal recipes, specifically mentioning Dottie, do not seem to exist.

• • •

Clearly, there’s a conspiracy going on here.  A cover-up.  You can’t go around messing with people’s names on food packaging, can you?  I realize that Fig Newton dropped the Fig from its name, but Fig wasn’t a real live person who I related to on so many levels.

Fig was a fruit.  Duh.

All I can guess is that Dottie must have overheard something so sinister or stumbled upon a secret so dark that there was a need to rub her out.  Which lead to some mysterious someone axing her first name from the packaging of her own regionally famous corn meal.

BUT WHY MUST IT END THIS WAY?

That’s what I can’t figure out.

[Hello FTC!  I forgot to add this disclaimer when I wrote this post, so I’ll add it now… a few weeks later.  I’d love to tell you that this company was savvy enough to respond to my concerns, but no such luck.  Meaning that there was no compensation for what I said here.]

A Mid-Winter Walk Through A Remarkable Cemetery

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On Sunday afternoon there was no snow around, so Zen-Den & I decided to go to Spring Grove Cemetery to see what it looked like in the weak winter light.  [And yes, it’s the place where I got thrown off the Segway last fall.]

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Spring Grove Cemetery, established in 1845, is one of five National Historic Landmark cemeteries in the USA.  There are people buried there who were born in the 1700s as well as born last week.

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The cemetery is a fascinating place that lends itself to going for a long healthy walk or, if you prefer, a casual ramble.  It’s huge: 733 hilly acres, with 15 lakes and 44 miles of roadway.  We wandered around on foot for about 2 hours.

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No matter what time of year I’ve been to Spring Grove Cemetery, I’ve found something unique, inspiring and/or downright trippy to photograph.  In my opinion, it’s worth the time and effort it takes to get there, if history, architecture and contemplation interest you.

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Two Impressions About SNL Turning 40

I stayed up to watch most of the SNL 40th anniversary special last night.  I doubt that I know anyone who didn’t watch at least part of it, even if we don’t watch the show on a regular basis anymore.

I roll with those who laugh.

My first impression after watching the show was that while the skits on Saturday Night Live have had their ups and downs over the years, the players who performed the skits have been consistently amazing, if for no other reason than that they showed up.

It’s easy to forget how difficult it is to be involved in a live performance and make it work to the best of your ability.  There’s a lesson there: just because you aren’t a brilliant success in one place, doesn’t mean that you’re a failure.

Just look at what some of these players went on to do.

And my second impression is that SNL used to have some funny, universally recognized catchphrases [“Jane, you ignorant slut.”“Well, isn’t that special?”] but that’s no longer the case, is it?  If it is, I never hear or read them.

I miss those snarky SNL characters, with their enduring catchphrases and spot on observations, who made me laugh at the foibles of human nature while bringing skits to life.  Those hilarious characters, who permeated our real world, were nothing if not memorable.

Like the ones from long ago who we saw last night.

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In Which I Become A Cliché & Make Myself Laugh

I ate dessert first last night.

I wasn’t certain if I was hungry so I had a snack of yogurt and homemade granola, which I sometimes have for my dessert.

After I ate it I was sure that I was hungry so I made myself a lovely dinner of chicken and mashed potatoes and broccoli and cranberry sauce.

Zen-Den was traveling for business so it was just me dining at the kitchen counter.

• • •

It wasn’t until I started cleaning up the kitchen that I realized that I’d eaten my meal in reverse order.

I started laughing at myself.

I mean, no one thinks that they’ll be the real life embodiment of a pop culture cliché gleaned allegedly from a woman born in 1892, yet I managed to do it.

By accident, of course.

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