James Lileks, as a Minnesotan, is an honorary homie. Today, he mentions Green Goddess salad dressing. That’s one of those telling details of the upper Midwest. You don’t think about it for a number of years, and then suddenly you remember salads drenched in cucumber ichor.
Green Goddess is not quite the phenomenon here in Missouri as in Wisconsin. Hence, I haven’t seen it for decades. I assume you could buy it in the grocery store, but amid the ranks of other dressings and smiling visages of Paul Newman, I’ve not seen it. Of course, I don’t use salad dressing, so I wander down that aisle typically with my eyes ahead, counting aisles until the beer aisle.
But during my boyhood in Wisconsin, every family gathering proffered Green Goddess. Right next to the cannibal sandwiches.
