I am a bad, bad blogger. I’ve been so busy setting up blogs for other Strib folks that I haven’t had a chance to work on my own damn blog. (New bloggers are all so eager and enthusiastic. Soon they will experience the frustrations of blogging under deadline and managing an onslaught of blog spam — Whee!)

Our hostess, June and Barb (left) serve up a delicious chocolate cake.

It has been a busy two weeks outside of the office, too. The Minnesota State Fair, Bob Dylan, and Snakes on a Plane, the highlight of all this extra-curricular activity was bumping into Barb Schaller at a dinner party.

Excuse me, Barb Who?

Barb “State-Fair-Canning-Queen” Schaller is the Samuel L. Jackson of the Creative Arts Building. Make no mistake, this sassy dame ain’t Susie Homemaker. Her spicy cherry chipotle jam will spank you in your seat faster than you can say, “Enough is enough!”

Chances are you’ve tasted the fruits of her labor, too. Ever try Gedney’s peach-raspberry jam? That’s Barb’s blue ribbon winning recipe. She gets half a cent for every jar sold.

The Gedney pickle hat and state fair medals should’ve tipped me off, but instead, I talked her ear off about my heirloom tomatoes (I brought along a salad fresh from my garden and got a little too big from my britches).

“I really want to learn how to can. I got a little lesson from my friend Danika, but…”

Barb smiled wide. I suddenly put two and two together, shut my mouth and opened my ears. Jar sterilization, botulism, food safety classes, heirloom plums, and more botulism — Guests got up for seconds, but I was glued to the edge of my seat.

At the end of the evening, Barb gave me her card. Barb’s avatar looked nothing like her, but her slogan said it all: If you’re ever in a jam, here I am.

“Give me a call if you need some jars. My husband is dying for more storage space.”

Before Danika renamed herself Ivana Marzipan, this pickling pro was known as The Taco Belle.

At age sixteen with no job experience, we were lucky to work outside the bun. (Until the late 90’s, Maple Grove was just a gravel pit on the way to St. Cloud — A new Taco Bell was a really big deal.)

We schlepped burritos, cheeseritos, and cinnamon sticks with a smile. We cheerfully changed stinky tex-mex garbage that leaked diet Mountain Dew and refried beans on our teal striped uniforms. When we worked the late-nite drive-thru, we happily helped drunken Minnesotans pronounce our most popular menu items.

“Sir, we sell Chicken ‘Fa-hee-Tahs’ not chicken ‘Fa-Gyn-Ahs’.”

Through it all, Danika was radiant — a blushing belle in Border Sauce. (I had horrible acne and always managed to get sour cream stuck in my hair.)

Several career changes later, The Taco Belle… er… Ms. Ivana Marzipan has traded fast food for slow food. She can whip up a delicious veggie soup and bake a batch of buns on the side. Warm out of the oven, they are heaven with butter and perfect for soaking up the broth at the bottom of the bowl.

Danika also makes the tastiest of pickles. I was flattered and a little bit nervous when she offered me a tutorial. It’s one thing to screw up a stranger’s chicken ‘Fa-hee-Tahs’, it’s another thing to scald your friend with boiling water and rush to urgent care with third degreen burns.

When I arrived, Danika had finished most of the prep work and a batch of pickles was already cooling on the counter. Though she was sweating, Danika was (still) radiant and moved through her hot kitchen with grace and authority.

As she lowered more jars into the boiling water, Ms. Ivana Marzipan explained her process. She was forthcoming with her canning tips and tricks but tight-lipped about her secret recipe. I got some of the ingredients out of her, but I gladly traded my silence for a jar of pickles.