Friday, November 5th, 2010
21

Prank Disgusting Southern Casserole

Three years ago, my friend Stephanie and I were both invited to celebrate Thanksgiving at a mutual friend's house. Most of the people coming, including the mutual friend, were crazy insane foodies. Just complete and total insufferable food snobs from hell (but were great otherwise!). So Stephanie and I, who are not foodies, and who are both from northern Florida, decided to bring a fake, disgusting casserole and pass it off as a Northern Florida/Southern Thanksgiving tradition that both of our families, who didn't even know each other, made every year. (The other people at this Thanksgiving celebration, in addition to being foodies, were also Northerners.)

The idea was to make a huge deal about how excited we were about the casserole and to talk about it for weeks before the holiday and present it proudly and to laugh while recounting the little quarrel we had about our differing family traditions on a recipe ingredient and how it almost derailed the cooking project entirely before we finally reached a compromise. We also wanted to make sure every single person tried some of the casserole. We wanted to watch each person eat some and note their reactions and say things like "Right? Isn't it delicious! We'll email you the recipe if you promise not to share it!" We hoped to do all this with totally straight faces.

We also hoped that in the course of the evening, the other members of the party would get the chance to talk about our revolting casserole behind our backs while we were out of the room. We planned to go out for several long smoke breaks in order to facilitate this shit-talking.

At the end of the night, we would do our big reveal: "The casserole was a joke! What kind of trash did you guys think we were? We know how to cook normal food in Northern Florida! There is absolutely no culinary tradition that involves Cheerios as a topping on a casserole!! Hahahahaha! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

We got as far as co-authoring the recipe, adding ingredients back and forth over IM and making a shopping list. Then, when Thanksgiving Day actually arrived, we said fuck it and made a pumpkin pie. (You know, starving people and all.) But here's What Could Have Been the Best Foodie-Shaming Practical Joke Ever Though In Retrospect We Would Have Been Found Out Because Our Friends Are Not Stupid:

Prank Casserole

Three boxes Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, prepared
2 cans of peas
2 cups mayonnaise
2 packages Oscar Meyer baloney
3 jars of tapioca pudding
1 bag of Cheetos
2 cups Apple Cinnamon Cheerios
Ketchup, to taste

Mix everything except the baloney, Cheerios, and ketchup in a bowl.

Line a large casserole dish with the baloney, taking care to make sure it sticks out and hangs over the sides in an attractive manner.

Dump everything in the casserole dish.

Sprinkle the Cheerios evenly.

Cook at 350 for however long, until it looks on purpose.

Serves as many as you can get to try it.



Lindsay Robertson makes more evil plans than she executes.

21 Comments / Post A Comment

Dave Bry (#422)

Ahh. That's excellent! The tapioca pudding really made me laugh a lot.

Rollo (#3,202)

I still think this is real.

This is actually on the menu at every Cracker Barrel between Valdosta and Jacksonville.

Tulletilsynet (#333)

No, think funeral-home or pot-luck dinner food. (Maybe you are not familiar with the expression, "Ugly as homemade sin?")

jaimealyse (#647)

I think the cooked bologna frill would have looked lovely. Points for aesthetics!

hockeymom (#143)

Hand to god, my mother in law serves this exact thing every Thanksgiving. Except I believe she adds mushroom soup.

iantenna (#5,160)

cream of mushroom soup is the key ingredient in like 90% of my grandmother's cooking. i've had it in every dish imaginable save one: soup.

Bittersweet (#765)

Cream of mushroom seems really New Englandy to me, as my WASPy Connecticut grandmother swore by it. I always thought Coke was an essential southern ingredient…maybe, Lindsay, it might up the disgusting factor in this recipe?

iantenna (#5,160)

take out the tapioca and make 'em regular cheerios and this is entirely believable.

Rollo (#3,202)

For baloney, may substitute squirrel.

laurel (#4,035)

Or squirrelbaloney.

I have a '70s Sunset one-pot-meal cookbook that has a recipe for a casserole calling for, among other things, mayonnaise and 7-Up. I also have, among my most prized possessions, a copy of the Amarillo Junior League Cookbook, given to me by a member at an Easter dinner that I crashed with her goth-y stepdaughter. If y'awl ever need a recipe for brisket for 85 people, let me know.

Rebecca (#3,032)

I have one of those community organization \'70s cookbooks that has a recipe for asbestos clay, a play dough analogue, made with actual asbestos powder. The cookbook is also great for learning about can sizing that no longer exists.

Tulletilsynet (#333)

I like how "in addition to being foodies, were also Northerners" = "would believe whatever shit we told them about food in northern Florida."

Tuna Surprise (#573)

You need to line the bottom of the casserole dish with buttered graham crackers then the baloney. Otherwise it sounds about right.

erikonymous (#3,231)

Lindsay, this rules.
Also, will I see you around Waterworks in a few weeks? We can talk about the actually delicious, totally normal food we had in our Southern homes?

Christmas night at Waterworks, as always!

goodiesfirst (#3,448)

This reminds me of the year that I saved up all the hair culled from my brush and shower drain to bake into a hair pie. I had a plastic bag full of gross clumps, but never had the heart to actually follow through with the thing. I had no particular recipient in mind, but kept imagining the horrified expression on someone, anyone\'s face while cutting into the golden brown crust.

raincoaster (#628)

You…choked?

alorsenfants (#139)

This is terrorism — will be alerting Homeland Security, once I stop laughing

HiredGoons (#603)

'until it looks on purpose' had me in stitches.

DandyKoufax (#6,590)

Can someone please post a vegan version?

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