After the Emily Dickinson house in Massachusetts, Meg and Jenn and I headed up into what you call the ‘sticks’ in search of a Rachel Maddow sighting. Rachel Maddow, the newscaster is huge with American lesbians, but there’s always a bit of a Rachel Maddow/Ellen Degeneres divide. Ellen is like the shallow rock star on the west coast:
While Maddow is what they call in New England, “wicked smart.”
Brains V bimbos. That tricky choice. Meg had bumped into Maddow by accident a couple of weeks previously in a cafe called the Creamery in Cummington (henceforth known as Cum-ville) when she was signing her new book, Drift, which is surprisingly not a tale of how Maddow conquered her traumatic childhood, had a sex change and then ended up in rehab. Or something. According to the back cover, it’s about how American has become “a nation weirdly at peace with perpetual war.”
The way up to the Creamery felt like driving through Scooby Doo territory. Loads of shadowy woodland and clap board houses that remind you of the evil janitor saying, “I’d have gotten away with it if it hadn’t been for you pesky kids!” Suddenly Jenn said, “here’s the end of the rainbow!” and there we were, outside the Creamery:
Inside, it was just like all the other co-ops I’d seen in rural Massachusetts: lot of vats filled with different organic grains, smiley check-out people with tattoos relating to Greek mythology – although the eco washing powder dispenser was a new one on me:
I talked to soup supervisor, Antoinette Reed for the lowdown on Maddow. Antoinette, or Toni as she’s known to Maddow, was great. A true pro. On the day I met her, she was worrying if the chef had put too much wine in the cheese and broccoli soup. He hadn’t.
Toni said that if I wanted to get a sighting of Maddow, I’d need to come in on a Sunday morning which is when she touches down with her girlfriend, Susan a photographer. Who is very, “down to earth,” apparently. That’s one of those descriptions about as useful as “nice” for knowing what someone’s really like. Alas, it wasn’t Sunday and I wanted some tangible Maddow-ness. Luckily, Toni, pointed to the “Spicy Maddow” sandwich that she herself had devised on the terrace of the Creamery only a few weeks previously. Here it is:
I don’t want to be rude or anything, but a sandwich with three kinds of meat suggests a person who can’t make their mind up. And all that hot stuff in it? Is someone trying to show off? And mushrooms with jalapenos? Not sure what Escoffier would have made of taste buds like that. But then who knows what Ellen Degeneres would have in her sandwich? It would probably be very LA, so lettuce instead of bread. Maybe some skinless chicken. The Sex Drive sandwich would come with conditions. The first one would be that you had to have a hang-over first so you’d enjoy it more. The sandwich would be ciabatta bread filled with fried chorizo picante. And you’d have to order a chilled Corona to go with it. Toni confided that the Spicy Maddow was a complicated sandwich to make and it has the most ingredients of any other sandwich in the store. Typical news journalist. (PS Rachel Maddow, you need to check the spelling of “Chipotte”).
Meg was disappointed that she couldn’t show me Maddow in the flesh so she decided to reconstruct the tumultuous scene of two weeks previously when the newscaster had been in the Creamery selling her new book. Meg said she’d looked nothing like the photo on her book cover. She was wearing her famous glasses. So with Jenn in her specs playing Maddow and Meg playing an gob-smacked Meg here we go: