The last time actor Nick Offerman was in Ames, he was met with meat. Lots and lots of meat.

But not in his green room, where lore says the provided meat tray was less than Ron Swanson-approved, the carnivorous character Offerman played on the much-ballyhooed “Parks and Recreation.”

No, the meat was in the parking lot, grilled up behind open truck beds for the palates of hungry, charred-flesh-lovin' Iowans who would later attend Offerman’s show.

Tailgating isn’t odd outside Jack Trice Stadium before a sporting event, of course. But in the Stephens Auditorium parking lot? Before a stand-up show/Prairie Home Companion-like doppelganger/humorist essay reading/folksy guitar show/human-to-human chat normally reserved for a dusty garage or a quiet fishing boat, but is, for some reason, taking place as a large, live touring show?

Now, that’s weird. Just weird enough for Offerman, who, according to multipleretellings, was tempted to those truck beds after an open stage door wafted the scent of jalapeno-bacon-cheddar burgers past his whiffer.

“Somebody was making, like, meat tornado burritos and burgers out behind their truck,” Offerman says during a phone call as he drove through a mountain pass known for views scenic enough to make Bob Ross envious. “I said, ‘Well, I think I had better get myself one of those burgers.’ So I just went out there because that sounded delicious, and I was right.”

Before he even finished his first bite, Offerman said to himself, “I'm coming back to Iowa.”

A promise made by Offerman — raconteur, logophile, woodworker, circumlocutious speaker, rib-tickling writer and Midwesterner through and through — is a promise kept.

Indeed, Offerman is returning on Sept. 26 for his “All Rise” tour, his third such ramble through historic theaters and college campuses.

Exactly what you’ll see in Offerman's show is as hard to pin down as one of those poor sheep that kids get strapped to in the name of mutton bustin’.

What I could get from the enigmatic Offerman was that it's “a very medicinal sort of general checkup on the state of human nature,” as told through recounted essays, songs — he boasts to have erstwhile been called one of the top four singers in his family of four children — and light dancing.

“There might be some moves that Michael Flatley, Lord of the Dance, would envy powerfully, but nothing that’s gonna snap a hamstring,” he said.

Envision, readers, a combination of Oscar Wilde, Grant Wood, the “SNL” Super Fans, and Al Borland from “Home Improvement,” and you’ll conjure a good picture of the biting wit, uncomplicated humbleness, long-voweled carnivorous tendencies and wood-loving ways that make up Offerman. (Put a beard on the man in your mind's picture, and I’m sure he’s a dead-ringer for the real thing.)

As he does in his books, Offerman uses humor and aphorisms as parlor tricks to distract you from his pragmatic pearls of wisdom, centered mostly on living life simply.

The counsel delivered in his shows is like broccoli crushed into the red sauce of a metaphorical bacon-covered pizza, Offerman said. Nutritious and delicious in the way that it doesn’t affect the flavor, the broccoli waits, and it’s only much later, when you take in another episode of, say, “Parks,” that you think to yourself: “Wait, when did I eat broccoli today?”

Growing up in an agricultural family in Minooka, Illinois, Offerman’s favorite crowds are right here in the Midwest. “My people,” he says as I assume he gently swirls a snifter of brandy and a stogie after pulling over to watch the sun set.

Coming from the Land of Lincoln, Iowa was presented to a young Offerman as “a snooze” comparative to our Midwestern neighbors. As he started to road trip through the Midwest in his teen years, he noticed the Hawkeye State’s incredible scenery, he said, and came to understand it as a “hotbed of good writing.” (Us ink-stained wretches and those coffee-shop creatives at the Iowa Writers Workshop thank you, sir.)

But his most memorable Iowa experiences occurred in his early 20s when, as a student at the University of Illinois, he and his fellow rabble-rousers would have occasion to drive over to the Quad Cities.

“I'm not sure if riverboat casinos are still all the rage, but they were a new thing in the '90s, and so we would drive, you know, a good two or three hours over to the Mississippi to go on the riverboat casinos,” he said. “And I learned many lessons in those sordid Bettendorf evenings that I'm not sure would be appropriate to share in a family or a school setting.”

Or, it turns out, even after much (metaphorical) genuflection on my part, in a newspaper setting.

In his vine-ripened age and with all his worldly wisdom, Offerman said he now considers “Iowa as one of the more charismatic of the corn-fueled acreages.”

That’s partially because Iowans come out for his shows “as though they're family,” he said.

“But not close family because you don’t show up for your siblings, but you do show up for your cousin who you think is funny,” he said.

Ames is the seventh stop on Offerman’s tour, which goes through the corn-belt states first, meaning he will be “stuffed with sausages and cheese curds” before leaving to entertain the mountain and desert folks of America’s western half.

Which leads him back to this tailgating, a “noble pursuit” in with the Tao of Offerman. Plying oneself with “delicious comestibles and beverages” is, frankly, good, smart preparation for his show, Offerman said.

“There is going to be a lot of muscular laughing going on and perhaps even some catharting,” he said. “So you want to have a good amount of calories packed into the system because I don't want anybody passing out on me.”

“But, in general,” he adds quickly, “I feel like we should always be prepared to pull over to the side of the road and grill up some brats.”

Fade to black and roll credits.

Fade in on Courtney in what appears to a complete replica of the “Ferris Bueller” set. “Wait,” she says, “You thought I wouldn’t ask about a ‘Parks’ revival? With ‘90210,’ ‘Will & Grace,’ and all the other revivals on TV? Come on, guys, you know I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Offerman’s edited thoughts on the likelihood of a “Parks” revival: Well, the main brain and heart behind the creation of “Parks and Rec” is a man named Mike Schur. And Mike has just finished producing his follow-up show, “The Good Place.” In both instances, he chose with great integrity to end the show on his own terms. Instead of creating a money-making, machine-like television comedy that just keeps churning out season after season and sort of famously has a few good seasons and then it's like, eh, it's pretty mediocre, he and his team try to craft a beautiful novel.

“Parks and Rec” was 125 episodes. I think “The Good Place” is like 40 episodes or maybe 50. And so, with that in mind, it's hard to argue, ‘Let's get the gang back together,’ after he wrote it to such a beautiful conclusion.

Mike Schur and Greg Daniels, who created “Parks and Rec,” they were the people who insisted that I get the part of Ron Swanson, which was the most incredible bounty of anyone's professional life perhaps since Michael Jordan. So I'll do anything Mike asks me to, but he repeatedly has said he doesn't feel like there's anything more or there's another story to tell. If he comes up with an idea, then I think all of us involved will come running.

I’ll strap on the mustache once again.

Flash back to Courtney.

"Wait, you're still here?" she asks. "It's over, now. Turn the page."

Nick Offerman: All Rise

7 p.m. Sept. 26, Stephens Auditorium, Ames, Iowa

Buy tickets online at center.iastate.edu or via phone at 515-294-2479.

Courtney Crowder, the Register's Iowa Columnist, traverses the state's 99 counties telling Iowans' stories. She channeled Offerman's pure, uncut love of words and circuitous journeys in this piece. Reach her at ccrowder@dmreg.com or 515-284-8360. Follow her on Twitter @courtneycare.

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