Introduction:
            Let me begin with a confession: I have a love/hate relationship with casseroles. When I cook I almost never make them. I hate them for seeming to be the province of the too-busy or the too-lazy; plopping a steaming casserole dish on the dinner table announces that you are the culinarily challenged opting for a soft option.  As I am the product of a single mom, I had too many dinners of potatoes au gratin, mac and cheese, and tuna surprise.  In short, the problem with casseroles is they are almost always cheesy.
           
            That said, I have a love, a secret love for casseroles.  It’s not something I like to tell many people, so let’s keep it our little secret. The secret that has no name.  What is that I love? It’s that they have to have layers and the layers have edges.  And let’s face it, they have to have cheese. Far from being the province of the lazy, a good casserole takes time to prepare.  It’s the bad ones where the layers all moosh together indistinguishably: that’s the surprise in the tuna surprise: it’s the same all the way down. Surprise! What makes a good casserole is how due to a good layering effect, the flavors are both kept separate and have occasion to productively mingle. The layers are clearly discernable; The edges are edgy. What’s more, the edges often get burnt a bit (which is the best part) and they go crunch in the mouth. They are delicious despite the cheese or is it perhaps because they are cheesy. After all, cheese is the glue that binds the layers and crisps the edges. With The Composters’ “Haul the Motherload,” we get the layers, the edges, and the cheese.  This Casserole is yummy.

Layers:
            So what are the layers?  Clearly the layers are Feminism, Motherhood, and Environmentalism (with sub-layers of sustainability and composting). And like any good casserole, whatever is left over in the fridge can be thrown in to good effect, so there’s some micro-layers of Derridean theory, a few dollops of body image, and a smattering of pop culture. And all these layers drip and blend, separate and mingle. Just when you think you’ve reached the bottom, oops there’s another layer and that layer complements the others while being equally rich and stimulating.

Edges: 
            And as I said, this casserole has edges.  The edges that go crunch in the mouth every so often include a little bit of feminist subversion (both to patriarchy and to other feminisms), a jab or two at religion, and a hefty scraping of activism bolstered by a variety of social critique: feminist critique, cultural critique, political critique.  And these edges collide and push at the roof of your mouth and sometimes they’re hot; sometimes they’re so hot you think you just might get burned.  You might find yourself asking, oh no, am I about to swallow a guilt trip? But this is where the cheese comes in.

Cheese:
            As I said, it really is the Cheese that holds all these layers together and gives the edges their particular snappy and savory perimeter. These two performers are cheesy.  Cheese personified.  We are never guilt tripped by them.  We might guilt trip ourselves as they call attention to all that we could be doing and should be doing. But guilt is not an ingredient in this casserole.  The sheer good naturedness of Mary Mercury and Glenda Greenhouse reassure us. They are the girls-next door, part infomercial spokespersons, part, not quite June Cleaver, let’s say June Cleavage.  This performance casserole is spiced with a hefty dose of the rhetoric of assent.  We like them; who couldn’t? They like us; they never judge us!  Since we all like each other, how could we (the audience) possibly disagree with what they (the performers) ask of us.  It’s as simple, overt, and effective style of compliance gaining as one could hope for.  It makes me want to rush out and compost all those tired feminist ideas that haven’t been working for me for a while anyway. 
            That said, kudos to the chefs.