About 8 weeks ago I started seeing all these ads on my Instagram for Tim Walz. They said if I donated to the campaign I could get his hot dish recipe. I spent a few weeks scrolling past, but smiling every time at the wholesomeness of the ad. I mean, look at this guy in his flannel shirt that matches the table cloth we know and love from Pizza Hut or any family function:

Every time I saw the ad I got a little more curious. I mean, it’s a great marketing ploy, appealing to all of us regular folk who love a good casserole. I guess after a few times of seeing the above ad, I lingered a little too long because then I started seeing a new ad, this time with actual food in it:

It took only a few days of seeing the tater tots and melting cheese every couple of posts before I finally mashed my finger against that screen and sent them a couple bucks. I just had to see this recipe. You understand.

It’s been about three weeks since I cooked this “hot dish,” and since then, I saw an ad for Gwen Walz’s Ginger Snap cookies (which don’t interest me) and then I saw this:

I find it all incredibly charming. And they knew I would; that’s why I was targeted. They got me and some of my money.

As I was working on this and talking to Chef Gaby about my plans, she pointed me to an article in Bon Appetit that discusses Kamala’s connection with food and that connection to her campaign. It’s a little dive into her ancestry and touches on the politics of women in power being associated with food and cooking. And briefly discusses other presidential candidates past and present and their attempt at connecting with people through food. Apparently, Gerald Ford bit into a tamal, husk and all, while campaigning in Texas and some speculate this cost him the presidency. And that reminded me of the time Trump tucked into a taco salad and said, “I love Hispanics!”

Which is why I’m here writing about this casserole. There’s no way Trump could pull of an ad campaign like this, centered around food and sharing. Try to picture it. You can’t. That’s how you know. I bet he’s never cooked anything in his life. He’s too rich to have ever eaten a casserole. To have ever needed to.

And that’s why I can’t understand why my family and hometown and blue collar workers are going to support him. Trump is not an Everyman. He is rich, dishonest, and disconnected from the plebeians. He’s been convicted and impeached, and yet, he’s still here. Why? Racism. Transphobia. Fear that white men have finally lost their foothold on power in this country after 248 years.

I wanted to cook this hot dish, sure, but I also wanted to write to you about it, my fellow lovers of casseroles. Sometimes a casserole means so much more. If you’re a woman, queer, an immigrant, differently abled, or a person of color, elections are actually about you. Your personhood and autonomy are always being decided by the people in power. Debates are about your body and your right to exist. Do you remember just less than 10 years ago when I couldn’t marry legally and people debated about it? I do. And remember, because of that, I had to adopt my own child, spending thousands of dollars in the process? I do. I’ve only been Cyrus’s legal parent for 9 years now. Cyrus is 14. Remember when most of my family continue to vote for people who don’t see me as a full person? I do. Missouri has one of the nation’s strictest abortion bans right now. And though I have never been pregnant, and never plan to be, I have a functioning uterus. If some act of violence caused me to get pregnant, I couldn’t have an abortion. Not in Missouri. If I didn’t have the financial means to travel across state lines, I would be, at the age of 45, forced to carry and birth a child. It’s fucking bananas. Children who are raped or victims of incest have no exceptions in this state. How can anyone possibly vote for someone who wants to keep these laws in place?

I’ve given up trying to convince my family that they shouldn’t vote for Trump or any of his cronies. I’ve given up explaining myself, and I’m exhausted from trying to make them comfortable or trying to prove I’m a regular person, just like them. I’m absolutely heartbroken that after 44 years of knowing me, they refuse to understand anything I’ve ever said about how most republicans are detrimental to queer people. And Trump? Well, he’s just a rotten garbage person who has, as if I needed to list it, sexually assaulted women, incited an insurrection (and continues to encourage violence against those who don’t agree with him), has been charged with state and federal crimes, hates trans people, hates poor people, and spreads lies including, but not limited to, immigrants eating American pets in Ohio.

No one has come up with a cogent argument about how he is fit to lead a country. When I’ve asked family members to explain their position, they refuse. I can only surmise it’s because they also hate queers and immigrants and women. And they somehow think that Trump is like them. Or that he even cares about them. But, like I said, Trump is no casserole eater.

I hear the arguments that Kamala doesn’t really say anything. Fine. Maybe she doesn’t. But she’s not a disgusting misogynistic fascist. I don’t see how this is so difficult.

I started this project last summer as a way to connect back to the people and feelings of my hometown. A place full of God-fearing Republicans. A place that I sometimes yearn for and at the same time am scared to visit.

This will be the sixth presidential election I have voted in. Not once have I had the privilege of voting about government spending or taxes or whatever Republicans and Democrats are supposed to disagree on. Every election I’ve voted for the candidate who is least hateful toward minorities. I have to vote for the candidate who agrees I have the right to exist in the same way as straight cis white men in this country. And I will continue to vote that way until everyone has those same rights, too. It really is that easy. I WISH I could argue with people about how money should be spent. But at this rate, I’m sure I’ll never see that in my lifetime. Especially if Trump is reelected.

I’m scared. I’m terrified, actually. I’ve been anxious for a few weeks now and was unable to pinpoint it until yesterday. It’s the election. What happens if he’s elected? A fascist regime. His followers become more empowered and violent than they already are. What happens if he isn’t? He’ll claim fraud and again, more violence. Am I overreacting? No way. It’s happened before. I’m sure this time it will be worse.

But you came here for a casserole recipe, didn’t you? Just like me, you are seeking connection through one of the most basic of human needs: food.

Just a few nights ago our republican neighbors brought us the soup bones from the cow they bought because they know Chef Gaby can do something with them. They’ve done this several years in a row. We’ve shared things from our garden with them, too. That’s how it’s supposed to be. America, I mean. Sharing and also leaving each other alone at the same time. I used to think that if people were close in proximity to those they disagreed with, gays, for example, it would humanize them. But, look at my family-still secretly voting for Trump and never even defending their stance. And looking me and my immigrant partner straight in the eye and saying they love us.

* * * * *

I’m not going to share Tim’s actual recipe here because, you know, it’s a family secret and maybe some sort of copyright infringement, so I’ll tell you what I did when I made his award winning “hot dish.”

Here’s what you’ll need:

1 package of bratwursts

1 bottle of beer

1 large onion (reserve about 1/4 cup for mixture)

1 teaspoon garlic powder or more. Or cloves of garlic

1/2 teaspoon of black pepper

1/2 teaspoon of paprika or any other fun seasonings

1 cup chopped celery

1 can cream of cheddar soup

1 can cream of mushroom soup

1/2 cup milk

1 cup sharp cheddar cheese

Enough frozen tater tots to cover the top of whatever size pan you use. I used a 9×13 casserole dish.

Directions:

Preheat the over to 350 degrees.

Boil a pot of water. Add the beer, most of the onion, garlic, and brats.

Reduce heat to medium and cook for 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, butter your casserole dish.

Add the rest of the ingredients (but not the tater tots!) into a separate bowl.

Drain the beer water, keeping the onions and brats.

Once the brats and onions are cool, chop them into bite-sized pieces and add them to the mixture in the bowl. Stir well to combine.

Pour the mixture into the casserole dish.

Top with frozen tots, neatly arranged on top.

Bake for about 45 minutes at 350.

If you want, add some extra cheese on top of the tots for the last 10 minutes of baking.

*This recipe is pretty salty without adding extra salt (like I did). Use at your discretion.

I’d never made a casserole with brats in it before. I thought it was pretty good, but maybe too cheesy. Chef Gaby didn’t love it, but once again, we ate half the pan without looking back.

* * * * *

I was raised as a patriotic kid, like most Americans. I was taught that we are free and we welcome anyone else who wants to be free. That one of our greatest assets is that we’re a melting pot of cultures and peoples and ideas. But the America I want to love is not a melting pot; it’s a potluck.

I want us all to bring something to share. And when I sit down at that red and white checkered table, I want to talk to those whose plates are piled dangerously high with a sampling of everything from the spread, not those who only go for their own dish, plain mashed potatoes, and a dry roll.

You can fit so much more on those big plates without dividers, you know.