Each February, Scott and I host a party called the Super Bowl of Snacks. It started so innocently back in 2013 as an ACTUAL, LITERAL Super Bowl Party; the kind where the TV screams into an empty living room while friends huddle tightly in the kitchen, forming a human wall around the Cheetos™ and chicken wings. The next year we threw the same party, but quietly eliminated the football. Like slipping the binky* out of a sleeping baby’s mouth, nobody noticed. Just the snacks, ma’am.
However, this being America, we couldn’t simply share snacks in a quiet, cooperative and mutually beneficial manner. This isn’t Sweden. We have to compete. There must be winners and losers.
So we made the Snack Party a contest, with five categories of Snack Achievement. Last year, the coveted prize was “Most Orange Snack.” But given the seriousness of our political situation, this year we replaced it with “Snack Most Resembling Donald Trump.”
As you may have guessed, the easiest way to represent the new Leader of the Free World is with Orange Cheese. Don’t assume this is an act of disrespect.** Some of our most inspiring leaders have been immortalized in cheese form:
I mean, there’s even a brand of Brie called “President.” Though I’m certain Donald Trump wouldn’t care to be associated with a cheese that is soft, French, spreadable, and popular among people who drink wine from boxes and eat meals sitting on a blanket with bugs really nearby.
In terms of raw materials, my launching point was the Classic American Cheeseball,*** which is based on a two-to-one ratio of cream cheese to “regular” cheese. Regular like Cheddar. Not hard like parmesan or soft like Camembert. You know, NORMAL.
While you wait for the cream cheese to soften to room temperature, Make America Grate Again by shredding the “regular” cheese. A perfect job for little hands:
Blend the cream cheese and shredded “regular” cheese in a food processor until smooth, dropping some paprika in for extra color.
Your cheese blend will be fairly bland. Spice things up with a couple tablespoons each of lemon juice, diced green onions and Worcestershire sauce. Wait, you don’t own any W-shire sauce because it took you four years to finish the last bottle. Send that cheese-grating kid to the neighbors to borrow some.
If things are getting crowded in the food processor, finish the job in the mixer.
Drop the whole blob onto a sheet of plastic wrap, roll into a ball and chill for several hours (you AND the ball).
Full disclosure: We did not chill the blob nearly long enough. Your ball should have the consistency of Play-Doh, not toothpaste. But the party starts in one hour, and the Real Donald Trump’s face is goopy anyway, so let’s get on with it.
Dip your hands in ice water – they should be wet and cold to avoid sticking to and warming the Ball as you sculpt. Shape the ball into an oval, and then push your thumbs into the middle to make eye holes. Then sort of pull and push until you get a nose. Is it sufficiently terrifying? Then you’re on the right track!
Squeeze some leftover cream cheese into the eye sockets to give the illusion of humanity. Next, slice a small stick of beef jerky in half to make pouty, whiny lips. Save a couple of bits of jerky for the eyes, although raisins, chocolate chips, Xanax, red hots or cranberries could work well–use your imagination!
At this point you’re probably thinking, “This could be any Orange Man—John Boehner, or even Silvio Berlusconi.” Don’t panic. The secret’s in the hair, my proprietary blend of potato chips.
Arrange several sweet potato chips whimsically, allowing the chips to fly fancifully off the head. Next, fill in the “highlights” with salt-and-vinegar chips:
Once the hair has been properly vetted, use a wet finger to smooth over any bumps in the skin. Actually, just leave those on. It’s more realistic.
It’s party time! Garnish the Cheese-Ball-in-Chief with choice crudité, like wilted celery and watery baby carrots that nobody will actually eat.
Despite its lack of resemblance to any sort of human being (even the terrible kind) and despite the fact that nobody actually ate it, our Donald Trump Cheeseball won first place in the “Snack Resembling Donald Trump” category. Estelle proudly shows off the prize: A Certificate of Achievement to a Tremendous American signed by The Donald, along with a bottle of “Zero to Sexy” Brand self-tanning oil.
It’s easy to win the game when you write the rules!
* Binky is a American/Canadian term for pacifier, but I have a bad feeling it means something else in other cultures. Please accept my apologies for any distress this may have caused.
** But if you did assume that, you’d be 100% correct.
*** The First Known Cheese Ball was created by Elder John Leland of Cheshire, Massachusetts in the early 1800s, to express his patriotism and support of religious liberty (of course). This inaugural Ball weighed in at 1,235 pounds/560 kilograms, draining the milk of 900 cows, who presumably also shared Elder Leland’s passion for freedom. Leland transported his ball down the east coast via horse-drawn wagon, then rolled it across the White House lawn to serve it to President Thomas Jefferson. This “Freedom Ball” (my term) was displayed at the White House for two(!) years and continuously served at Republican party functions before being tossed into the Potomac River. I’m hoping this scene makes it into the all-dairy version of Hamilton the Musical.
I’d have made the hair from Cheetos, just for textural verisimilitude. Or perhaps Shredded Wheat bricks, though I accept they’re not nearly orange enough… Otherwise a fabulous effort!
I’m not 100% certain of the sequence of events that landed me on your blog, but I love it! Your writing is hilarious. Since I’m under the delusion that I’ll be “fixing up” the kitchen and entryway in our sardine can-sized home to make it work better as a family of five during my maternity leave, I’m sure I’ll be back for ideas. Thank you!