The Corona Diaries Vol 45: Nights Growing Colder, Shadows Growing Longer

(Check out this entry's prelude.)

(late November 2021)

There were signs of the impending holidays when I was up north. Trailers stacked with Christmas trees were making their way to retailers as festive lights, wreaths, and other seasonal decorations were being mounted on light poles, hung on storefronts, etc. And I saw more than one notice such as this:

Lefse is a Norwegian flat bread made from potatoes while Sandbakkles are Norwegian (Swedish too?) almond butter cookies poplar at Christmas. I didn't look at the grocery store in Chetek for lefse but there are 3 brands of it at the supermarket I shop at here in Madison that are available year-round.

The impending holidays also mean that lutefisk starts appearing at the supermarket.

Lutefisk is a Norwegian delicacy(?! - ed.) made from dried whitefish that is then pickled in lye. After a rehydrating soak, it is thoroughly rinsed and then gently heated and served drowning in butter, from my experience. It's a Christmas "treat", if fish pickled in lye can be so described, and seems to be more popular with the older set. I am unsure if this is because people become more enamored of tradition as they grow older or that they lose their sense of taste as they age. Lutheran churches and Sons of Norway lodges across Wisconsin have lutefisk dinners come the holiday season. Well, they did before Covid struck.

Personally, I am happy with a ham or turkey for Christmas dinner.

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With my vacation over, it was back to the proverbial salt mines. The air had turned decidedly chillier so I started to bundle up a bit more for my treks to the bus stop. I don't mind the nip in the November air and there were some very pretty sunrises to greet me as I stepped out the door for my walk. Late autumn has a distinct smell to it. With the greenery gone and the humidity low, the air takes on a thin, almost minty scent as crisp breezes nibble at your cheeks. This is occasionally interrupted by the smell of a neighbor's fireplace or stove hard at work which makes me quite envious of people who can indulge their atavistic desires and safely watch flames from the comfort of their couch.

And on those days when I worked from home, I got to see the dawn from my seat upstairs. The window by my desk faces south and, with the sun rising in the southeast this time of year, I was treated to some wonderful views at Prime when monks all around Madison were praying in an easterly direction.

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You may recall from an entry or 2 back that I bought a head of cabbage from a produce stand up north. With the weather turning colder, my stomach desires heartier fare. Isn't that the case for everyone? I suspect that the heavier foods of winter are more about feeling full and thusly having a good excuse to lie on the couch instead of going outside rather than actually being a bulwark against the cold. Regardless, I decided to make Polish cabbage rolls - Gołąbki - with the cabbage. If the Russian restaurants I've been to are any indication, then it would seem that all Slavic/Eastern European peoples stuff cabbage leaves in one fashion or another.

Shortly after making my intentions known to my Frau, she texted me a recipe for Gołąbki soup that promised all the flavor of Gołąbki with much less work. She continued her internet searches and found one for her beloved instant pot. It turned out very well. Very well, indeed.

Truth be known, it was more of a stew than a soup but was very tasty regardless of your gastronomic taxonomy. And it really did taste like well-sauced cabbage rolls.

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One November weekend, my Frau, a friend of hers, and I headed out to our favorite orchard, Lapacek's, which is 20ish miles north of us in rural Poynette, for their holiday craft fair. Poynette is famous** for having originally been called Pauquette. Apparently someone had dreadful handwriting back in 1850 because an application for the Pauquette post office was misread as "Poynette" and the name stuck. Or rather, residents were stuck with the name.

We first went to Lapacek's in 2007, if memory serves, when I heard tell of their Wolf River apples which were supposedly so large, that you needed only one of them per pie. This sounded like some kind of P.T. Barnum-esque chicanery so I simply had to investigate this extraordinary claim. Treks out there became a yearly ritual for us. Sadly, they pulled up stakes and moved to a new spot several years ago and I don't believe they have any Wolf River apple trees these days. Still, come August and September, we always have a surfeit of apples in the kitchen and plenty of pomaceous goodness on our plates.

Well, the one apple per pie claim turned out to be true. (That's a Cortland on the left, I think.) These apples were genuinely huge. They originated in the late 19th century up in northern Wisconsin and were bred by someone who lived in the town of Wolf River.

The Frau and her friend perused the crafts while I contemplated the foodstuffs. Doughnuts are more my thing, you see, although there were some candles that tempted me. At checkout, we said hi to Kim who is the leading craftsperson in the Lapacek enterprise. We chatted with her that first year we visited the orchard and I explained to her that we'd been lured by the promise of the Wolf River apples. Shortly after I blogged about them, Kim found the post and made the connection. And so we've been the Wolf River apple couple to her ever since.

I look forward to their apple cider doughnuts every autumn and they certainly didn't disappoint this time around.

That evening we were invited out to a local brewery, Karben4, with some of the Frau's friends to hang out in one of their Covid protection dome thingies. It's for those who don't want to risk going maskless in their taproom with the hoi polloi. (Full disclosure: one of the Frau's friends won a 2-hour stint in the dome.) At first, I had flashbacks to Bio-Dome and was unsure about this whole endeavor. But, with no Pauly Shore in sight, I soon came to believe that R. Buckminster Fuller would no doubt be proud to see folks hanging out in geodesic domes drinking finely crafted beer.

There were 8 chairs, a space heater, a few small tables, and a ceiling light projector to add some psychedelic mood lighting. I guess each dome has a theme and ours was space. Thusly there were little astronaut figures hanging here and there from the lattice work.

While it was certainly a chilly night, we stayed rather warm. I suppose the beer helped in that regard. My favorite was the Oaktober Ale. It's a bit like an Oktoberfest lager - but an ale. And it's aged on oak to boot. The woody flavor is subtle but extremely tasty.

Speaking of beer, I have heard that a Chicago brewery, Hop Butcher, is making a special holiday brew this year:

Yes, it's a stout brewed with Frango Mint oil. This will no doubt bring back lots of memories for many Chicagoans. Does Macy's sell Frango Mints or did the brand die along with Marshall Fields? When I heard of it, I thought of eating those mints and of all the good childhood memories of going downtown to look at the window displays at Christmastime.

Well, enough about food. I am making myself hungry and I have done more than eat and drink lately.

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Back in college, I took a world literature course. One of the books we read was Matigari by Kenyan author Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o. If I recall correctly, the story took place in the immediate aftermath of the Mau Mau Uprising. I knew nothing about Kenyan history then (and barely more now) but thoroughly enjoyed that book. I am not sure what it was about it that attracted me so. It was an intriguing story of revolution and how sometimes things don't go as planned. Change is complicated. Plus I enjoyed Ngũgĩ's writing style. It had a directness to it that I liked. In addition, there was lots of singing.

Anyway, I decided back then to read more by Ngũgĩ. Now, some 30 years later, I finally did so. I recently completed his debut novel, Weep Not, Child.

It was really good. This story takes place during the Mau Mau Uprising and deals with colonialism. Not just the awfulness of the British lording over the Kenyans, but also how that colonial mindset creeps into the minds of the oppressed. Family and the importance of land are other themes here. I probably missed quite a lot not knowing much about Kenya but Ngũgĩ's direct style lent the themes an emotional starkness that was riveting. Highly recommended!

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Bonus photo! We're back to Piper. I caught her on the guest bed recently enjoying the sun.

 

**Not really.