That's a Hard Split

For its second season on Comedy Central, the locally based crew of Let’s Bowl shot 10 episodes in just four days. They did it on Lane 27 at Wells Lanes. This South St. Paul bowling alley offers food, adult beverages, and several oversized TVs. The other day, we met Steve “Chopper” Sedahl there. The co-host of the game show promptly ordered a bedwetter-sized MGD to wash down a sampling of batter-fried appetizers.

“The first season, I think we were a little stifled,” Sedahl said, visibly excited about the new episodes. “I think we did a good job last year, I think it worked. But this is season two. It’s a make-or-break kind of thing.” In addition to feeling more comfortable with the show’s swift, segmented format, he studied up on the finer points of bowling. He wanted to sharpen his skills as a commentator.

Judging by the buffalo wings, the cook at Wells has some overdue homework of his own. The so-called Inferno Wings suggested a hellish snacking thrill, but our batch was a dry and uneven assortment of deep-fried drummies with only occasional pockets of heat. The classic onion rings were to be preferred, and the mozzarella sticks were plump, with thick innards flavorful and chewy. Meanwhile, the oddly tasty fish sticks presented a dual mystery. How can breading this thin taste so rich and buttery? And what exactly is this flaky stuff in the middle? (Sedahl: “I don’t think that’s walleye.”)

A few days later, Sedahl and his cohort Rich Kronfeld greeted fans and colleagues at the season-premiere of Let’s Bowl. The screening was held at the recently reinvented Suburban World theater in Uptown. Laughter snowballed throughout the show, which featured a Burnsville man and his 18-year-old son. In keeping with the parameters of the show, they bowled 10 frames to determine whether or not the boy would be allowed to get a tattoo while living under dad’s roof. (The kid bowled over 200—a Let’s Bowl first.) Looking ahead, the new season will feature disputes involving a woman in her “dirty 30s” who used her boss’s computer to access gay porn, deer hunters vying for the best turf, and a married couple with differing views on vasectomy.

As Sedahl raffled mounds of bowling-related junk he bought on eBay, the Suburban World’s servers distributed appetizers such as avocado grapefruit salad with a red chili vinaigrette and macaroni croquettes with a cayenne-brandy dipping sauce. These offerings went nicely with a glass of Pallodino Dolcetto, though the salad—in contrast to the crowd—was a bit overdressed. It felt incongruous to consider the delicate canapes of white anchovy while Kronfeld, between South Park ads on the big screen overhead, exposed his butt to his admirers and colleagues.