'It's the little differences'

As Vincent Vega said in “Pulp Fiction:” “It's the little differences. I mean they got the same shit over there that they got here, but it's just, just there it's a little different.”
It’s time to discuss the Runza sandwich.
And the Dorothy Lynch salad dressing.
Both wildly Midwestern entities.
OK, I know my 43 Things say “never eat fast food again, ever.” Runza Hut is a fast food place. Kinda-sorta.
A Runza (also called a bierock), is a yeast roll stuffed to the bajezus with hamburger meat, cabbage and onions and various spices.
It’s a German/Russian import (Germans and Russians being foolhardy enough – uh, I mean of strong character – to want to settle on the prairie) that is part of growing up a Nebraskan.
The first Runza restaurant opened in Lincoln in 1949. When I went to the University of Nebraska-Lincoln (1981-1986), you could buy a Runza for $1.25 at the Cornhusker football games.
Today, a cheese Runza (my preferred way to eat it, it’s got a couple of slices of processed American Cheese tucked into the bread) will set you back $2.99.
It’s all worth it (even though the cabbage will give you the winds something fierce).
Just as crazy is Dorothy Lynch salad dressing. I think there’s a bottle in every refrigerator in Nebraska.
And I am not kidding.
There was a real Dorothy Lynch, who invented the “pseudo-French dressing” recipe for folks at the Legion Club in St. Paul, Nebraska in the 1940s. Dorothy sold the recipe in the 1960s, and the stuff is made by Tasty-Toppings in Columbus, Nebraska.
It’s like French dressing, but it’s not. It’s just good. You have to taste it to see.
And when the idea of a salad in the Midwest gets as daring as chopped iceberg lettuce with shredded carrots, you need a little goodness. You need a little orange-hued Dorothy Lynch, speckled with poppy seeds.
And yes, I have had Nebraska transplants in California ask if I’ll bring a couple of bottles back in my suitcase.
Yes, I will bring bottles back.