Widersehen Pils, Hallo Kölsch: Bierzeit aus Lakefront Brewery

Have you ever felt like you were going to die? On a recent bike ride, I had that feeling more than once. Being quite out of shape, there were a few times when I was pedaling up that hill and I thought my heart was going to say, "Eff you, fatboy! I am done!" and just stop working, leaving me to clutch my chest like the gladiator in Life of Brian - "I think I'm about to have a cardiac arrest." Since I was cruising around the countryside, it was quiet and I kind of felt like the guy in that Edgar Allan Poe story as I could hear every beat of my ticker. It's always disconcerting when I override my brain's natural tendency to block out those internal sounds of my bodily functions, let me tell ya. I will take a pass on that sensory deprivation tank, thank you.

Thankfully for you, I survived my near-death experience and lived to write another blog post. When I got home, I was hot'n'sweaty and found myself craving 2 things: 1) grapefruit and 2) a nice cold Kölsch. #1 was satisfied by a trip to the supermarket where I scoured the fruit section and found just the right piece of citrus which I eagerly brought home. After gently peeling the skin from the grapefruit, I bit into its luscious, red flesh and found it tantalizingly tangy. Tiny rivulets of cool juice trickled down my chin as if I was a stunt double in 9½ Weeks. That was one of the best tasting grapefruits I've ever eaten.

Hankering #2 was satisfied with a bottle of the subject of this post: Bierzeit from Lakefront Brewery.

Bierzeit is a Kölsch-style beer and it seems that Lakefront has only brewed this style once before - a limited edition back in 2015 as part of their My Turn series. I find that rather odd as Lakefront is afraid neither of German bier styles nor of lagering. Looking at their website, Bierzeit is listed in the Year-Round beers category, which is nice. I also see that they no longer brew a pilsner year-round.

First they came for the Klisch Pilsner, and I did not speak out—
     Because I was more of an Eastside Dark kind of guy.

Then they came for the Lakefront Pils, and I did not speak out—
     Because I was more of an Eastside Dark kind of guy.

That's a shame as they made some fine pilsners. From what I hear, Riverwest Stein is popular so I think that's safe. But I wouldn't be surprised to see Eastside Dark go away. I mean, if the beer named after the brewery's founders got discontinued, what chance does a humble dunkel stand? That's got to be something of an ego blow when the brewery you got up and running with your blood, sweat, and tears stops making the beer with your name on it.

I generally have a high opinion of Lakefront. While I may not drink some of the styles they brew, I feel that they do a very good job (or better) on the ones I do. But there are some great Kölsches out there. New Glarus' Kid Kölsch is a fantastic bier as is Dovetail's version of the style. So how does Bierzeit stack up?

My photograph makes Bierzeit appear a more golden color than it really is so don't be fooled. It's lighter - more yellow than gold. Light gold, maybe? A creamy, white head lasted a long time. It had the slightest of haze to it and there were many bubbles inside rushing upwards. The best word for Bierzeit's aroma is "freshness". It smelled like cracker, grass, and a faint bit of floral and I could smell it even when my Stange was several inches from my nose.

The first sip had a very healthy dose of fizz. I tasted mainly malt which was largely a light, cracker flavor but there was also a slight doughy sweetness too. It was crisp with just a hint of fruitiness. Those malty flavors faded away after I swallowed leaving some gentle grassy/herbal hop flavors to do their thing. They provided a little bitterness and a mild dryness.

Bierzeit did, as Gaff said in Blade Runner, a man's job, sir, of satisfying my Kölsch desires. It was light and crisp (and 4.5% A.B.V.) - perfect for a post-ride cooling off. I wish it had a little less of that doughy flavor and a smidgen more of that fruitiness to it but I nitpick here because I love the style. This is an excellent brew and deserves to be in your Kölsch rotation along with New Glarus and Dovetail's versions. Now that Lakefront has abandoned the pils, I am hoping that Bierzeit sticks around.

Junk food pairing: For a semi-authentic Kölsch experience, get a bag of gouda flavored potato chips and sprinkle liberally with dried chives.

The Corona Diaries Vol. 50 - Supplement: Pączki

The Corona Diaries Vol. 50: April Is the Cruellest Month

(Guess Which Month 2022)

T.S. Eliot was onto something when he wrote that poem of his.

This time around, we truly have a corona diary. April began with my Frau breeding Covid. Her test result with the dreaded positive came back a day or two before she was to leave for Montgomery, Alabama. She has family down there and, sadly, one of her aunts had recently died so she was keen on being a comfort to her dad, who was already down there. In addition, she was looking forward to seeing some family she hadn't seen in years, despite the circumstances. Alas, it was not to be.

Even after she'd been sick for a few days, I was still feeling alright. I got up one day and noticed that the white stuff was falling so I availed myself of the opportunity to stop by my favorite urban woods on a snowy morning - Acewood Conservation Park. The temperature was in the low 30s so the snow was heavy and slushy and clung to everything.

It was just lovely there. A horse-drawn sleigh would not have looked out of place.

I noticed that an area on the north side of the park had been cut back rather severely. Now, I'm no forester so perhaps this is straight out of Maintaining Conservation Parks 101, but I was sad to see so many bushes trimmed into oblivion and so many trees felled. That area was thick with greenery in the past but it looks like it'll be a different scene ere long.

My suspicion is that removing all of that brush near the path will mean that more noise from the highway will make its way to the shoreline. We shall see, or hear, rather, how that turns out in a couple months.

Making my way to the pond, I saw that it had a smattering of mallards but was rather quiet overall.

I walked out onto that little peninsula hoping to get to the tip of it so I could get some panoramic pictures. Granted, my cameras don't exactly mimic Ansel Adams, but getting out into the pond a little way would afford me some nice views.

Approaching the end of the peninsula, I had my eyes to the ground trying to avoid stepping in standing water when a shrill cry scared the living crap out of me as a Canada goose flew out of a clump of empty stems just a few feet ahead of me. She landed out in the water a few yards away and was squawking out in alarm which caused another goose some 50 or so feet down the shoreline to get excited and start honking his own goosey klaxon.

I walked ahead a little way and discovered why I had two pissed off geese nearby who were closing in for the kill.

Once again, a mother goose had built a nest at the tip of this little peninsula. I did not envy her sitting on those eggs in the middle of a snowfall. But I suppose there wouldn't be any geese in the world if they simply gave up because of a little precipitation.

I could hear dad hastily approaching and he sounded none too pleased with the intruder so I beat a retreat back to the path. Eventually the parents-to-be quieted down after having cleared the nesting area of the pesky human.

I saw only one person walking the path so I basically had run of the park to myself. Despite the din of the highway lingering in the background, it was still rather serene and I allowed myself to just spend some time enjoying the scenery.

********

That night I began to feel unwell. Our half-hearted precaution of having me sleep in the guest room was a failure. Waking up needing to go to the bathroom, I got out of bed and realized that I had the chills and felt slightly nauseated. Come the morning I had body aches and a headache. I presumed that I had contracted Covid and this was confirmed a couple days later when I got my test result.

I took some time off from work and worked a few short days. When I wasn't sleeping, I got to enjoy lying around on our new couch which sat on our newly refinished floors. At some point the original owners gave up on the fine red oak planks and covered them with carpeting. When we tore up the ancient, ugly shag, this is what we discovered:

Not only was the original finish in rough shape, but it was of a fairly dark hue with a reddish, ambery tint. In anticipation of the floors getting a makeover, we (i.e. - my Frau) decided to paint the living room. The renter's white, which had been applied liberally around the house seemingly just before being put up for sale, was replaced by a light tan paint called Bauhaus Buff. Walter Gropius would have approved, right? I then figured that, as long as we're emptying the living room, we might as well get new furniture instead of stowing the couch and love seat which didn't fare too well in years past with kids jumping on them. We also tossed the old entertainment center. I rationalized the purchase by saying that buying new furniture saved me the cost of having to rent one of those storage pods.

So my Frau, the cats, and I moved into a hotel room for 3 days and returned to this:

Much better. The rooms are lighter now and I do not miss that amber glow that the old floors gave off.

Unfortunately, being ill meant that I missed out on a lot of fun. With gathering and mask restrictions being lifted and life continuing to return to normal, I had a busy April planned. First, I was unable to go see the band Nektar in concert. This disappointment was followed by missing all 10 or so movies at the Wisconsin Film Festival that I had purchased tickets for. I was to again judge processed meats at the product competition at the Wisconsin Association of Meat Processors convention but I was in bed cursing whoever it was that gave my Frau Covid instead of sampling bratwurst and large diameter luncheon meats. The day after that was Palm Sunday and Madison's Polish Heritage Club was holding their Easter bazaar for the first time in a couple years. Again, I was an achy mess huddling under a blanket when I could have been having fun, enjoying kielbasa and good company, in this case.

Speaking of Polish things, we celebrated Fat Tuesday with not only pączki, but also pączki beer.

Hinterland, a brewery up in Green Bay, brewed a beer that mimicked a raspberry pączki. While the pastries were tasty, the beer was gross. They started brewing it in 2020 and used 1,200+ of the tasty bundles of fried dough goodness in the brewing process. I don't know if they actually added the pastries to the brew kettle for this year's batch but I sure tasted a lot of raspberry flavoring.

********

Last autumn I heard that the rock band Jethro Tull, of whom I am a great fan, was soliciting tales from fans for a book that tells a history of the band from the fans' perspectives. I submitted a piece and a few months later I was told that it had been accepted for publication! And so a short essay of mine will appear in this book come September.

A brief excerpt:

"The next step for me on my journey into Tull was to return to the source of many a musical discovery for me – my older brother's tape collection. Eager for more flute-laden proggy goodness, I scoured it and eventually found a tape with 1982's The Broadsword and the Beast on one side and Thick as a Brick on the other. I immediately took to Broadsword with its loud guitars sharing space with synthesizers plus the flute and occasional mandolin. Thick as a Brick took longer but I eventually fell under the spell of its bouncy folk melodies and crazy time signatures."

********

Back in February, a friend came up from Chicago and ran a game of Call of Cthulhu. It's a pen and paper role playing game like Dungeons & Dragons but instead of a medieval fantasy setting with dwarves and elves fighting orcs, Call of Cthulhu is all about regular people trying not to succumb to madness when faced with cosmic horrors that remind them that mankind is but a puny, insignificant speck in the grand scheme of things. Storylines generally feature eldritch gods and the cultists who worship them along with the odd squamous half-man, half-fish hybrid thrown in for good measure. Oh, and all manner of unspeakable evils are loosed upon us poor humans.

We played a scenario that took place in the 1970s and I played the captain of a mission whose purpose was to land a crew on the moon to investigate a research station near the Shackleton crater which has stopped communicating with NASA.

Curiously enough, our shuttle craft looked just the like one in the TV show Space: 1999. Hmmm...Since it took place in the 70s, we made sure the men had very wide ties on at the conference they attended and I think most of the characters were smoking in the shuttle en route to the moon. One of the astronauts was Canadian and brought an ample supply of freeze-dried poutine on the mission.

My friend spared no expense in setting the right mood with a fantastical light show when we entered the cavern at the bottom of the crater, met the strange, unearthly creature there, and descended into madness.

My friend had also been a friend of my brother. After our game finished, we hung out for a spell and chatted.

About 10 years ago, he ran a Call of Cthulhu scenario called White Leviathan which was based on Moby Dick. It takes place from 1844-1846 onboard a Kingsport whaling ship. He, my brother, and crew were play testers.

My friend said that he'd been in touch with the game's creator. Since my brother had been one of the early players, he will be immortalized in the final version of the game. Likely his name will be that of a whaling captain on the wall of a New England tavern next to a harpoon. A fitting way to memorialize my late brother.

********

 
Bonus photo: we got a new ottoman that holds the cat toys and is in front of the picture window so Grabby and Piper can sit on it to watch birds and catch the evening sun. Here's a photo of Grabby enjoying it and it also features our lovely new floor.

The Corona Diaries Vol. 50 - Overture: Clasp

We'll all be together

 

(Photo by Laura Sheeran.)

I'll bet that there's a PhD candidate somewhere writing a paper on how Covid and the lockdowns affected music and musicians. Touring ground to a halt and many musos were forced to turn to virtual busking. Others posted brief clips of themselves performing and chatting for free usually, I think, in the spirit of we're-all-in-this-together. I fully expect books to be published in the near future that document albums written and recorded during the pandemic and for them to note common themes such as death, fear, and dislocation just as skeletons and memento mori became common in medieval art and illumination in the wake of the Great Plague. One such album these texts will surely explore is They're Calling Me Home by Rhiannon Giddens with Francesco Turrisi.

Giddens and Turrisi live in Ireland, although they hail from the United States and Italy, respectively. When the pandemic hit and lockdowns began in the spring of 2020, the pair found themselves not only unable to tour, but also unable to visit their friends and families in their homelands. They're Calling Me Home was recorded that autumn as they and people around the globe struggled with the lack of social contact and the specter of death that never seemed far away as hundreds of thousands succumbed to Covid every month.

The album is mainly traditional songs and has a sombre tone overall with tunes such as "Calling Me Home" and "O Death" giving off particularly mournful vibes. But there is a new song here amidst the ones handed down, the Giddens-penned "Avalon".

It too is concerned with the end of our mortal coils but it's not doleful. Turrisi's drum and the acoustic guitar of Niwel Tsumbu begin the song and are soon joined by Giddens' sprightly viola. Her spectral, wordless harmonies enter and weave their way through the rhythm. They are a prelude, of sorts, as when they fade away, the viola takes up the main melody that will be echoed by Giddens' lyrical singing. But rather than lament the loss of loved ones, she invokes the idyllic isle of Avalon from Arthurian legend as a meeting spot in the hereafter - "We'll all be together in Avalon".

This song is a thing of sheer beauty. Listening to it, I feel as if I was being carried off on a summer breeze. Turrisi's drum keeps things moving while Tsumbu picks out a lovely rhythm that complements it perfectly. Giddens' voice is angelic and the vocal melody, echoed by the viola, has that alluring Pied Piper catchiness to it, a beatific guide leading the listener to the next world.

While "Avalon" isn't a million miles away from Giddens' work in the Carolina Chocolate Drops, it replaces their cornpone approach with something more ethereal. I will never foreswear the Chocolate Drops but it's great to hear Giddens' folky M.O. expand and take on new shades.

I'm out here in the meadow

Joe Walsh is known as the "Clown Prince of Rock", a title that he was surely given during his presidential campaign of 1980. (Never mind that he was not yet 35 at the time.) Ditties such as "Life's Been Good" and "I.L.B.T.s" (I Like Big Tits) have bolstered his reputation as a goofball. But such tunes belie his ability to craft beautiful songs that resonate with genuine emotion that doesn't provoke laughter.

He spent a few years in James Gang who had hits with "Funk #49" and "Walk Away". In late 1971 he parted ways with the band and formed Barnstorm with bassist Kenny Passarelli and drummer Joe Vitale. Their eponymous debuted came out in 1972 and was followed up in '73 by The Smoker You Drink, the Player You Get which is famous for the single "Rocky Mountain Way", a classic rock radio staple since the dawn of classic rock radio, methinks.

But there's much more to The Smoker You Drink, the Player You Get than hard rock riffs and Vocoders. For example, there's Walsh's "Wolf", a dark, brooding song led by acoustic guitar as well as keyboardist Rocke Grace's "Midnight Moodies" with a jazzy flute that gives it an early 1970s Traffic feel.

But the song I want to highlight here is "Meadows". It shares a guitar riff with Deep Purple's "Woman From Tokyo" but I've never been able to discern who recorded what first. Did someone filch the riff? Or was it merely a case of chance providing a memorable melody, however improbable? I honestly don't recall when I first heard it but "Meadows" became an important song in the soundtrack of my freshman year of college.

Vitale's drums are simply fantastic here. Cymbals churn in the background as toms keep the chorus moving along while tight, focused fills move the song from verse to chorus to a lovely interlude featuring acoustic guitar and a short piano part that's all of 3 notes yet adds a shimmering beauty that is just perfect.

To 18 year-old me, the lyrics reflected the blooming, buzzing confusion that I felt leaving home ("Can't think of any reason, don't know exactly why"), moving from a rural area back to an urban one. The chorus ("I'm out here in the meadow, part of an old stone wall") really captures that feeling of cruising down a country road on a summer day. On the other hand, the verse "Some things are left unspoken, some things are handed down" evoked some of the ambivalence I felt towards my father, whom I was very happy not to have to be within 175 miles of and wasn't sure I ever wanted to see again.

Although I became enamored of this song 30+ years ago and I am not an 18 year-old kid trying to find his way in life, I still love it.

The Corona Diaries Vol 49 - Supplement: The Winter World

(Read diary entry #49.)

Your craft lager, buddy it's most too light. But my 22-pils will make everything alright: 22 Pils by New Glarus Brewing Co.

When I was at the brewery in New Glarus, I noticed that the gift shop had DVDs of Tale of the Spotted Cow for sale. I didn't buy a copy but now I wish I did because I am having trouble remembering dates. Whenever it was that New Glarus started selling their beer - 1993? 1994? - they were selling Edel Pils. And maybe Belgian Red too. I cannot recall when that was first introduced but it was early.

Wait.

According to local beer scribe Robin Shepard, Belgian Red was their third brew. I'd swear on Shepard's life that Edel Pils was first so what was second? Copper Kettle Weissbier? I bet that documentary would tell us. Regardless, Belgian Red is still brewed today.

And Belgian Red deserves to be brewed today because it's a wonderful beer. Spotted Cow pays the bills and gets most of the press but what other American brewery was brewing a Belgian-style fruited sour beer in 1994ish? In Wisconsin? Of that quality, too. Belgian Red was sui generis there for a while in Wisconsin beer coolers. Plus, it wasn't long before New Glarus introduced one of, if not the, first commercial coffee stouts. Coffee Stout is still brewed today, though it seems to be a biennial brew.

But Edel Pils? I don't know when it was last made. Seems like it is around once every several years, perhaps. Too bad. I recall drinking it starting in 1994 and loving it. Brewmaster Dan Carey proved his brewing ability for all to taste with it. And then, somewhere along the way, the pilsner fell out of fashion and the New Glarus beer roster moved on. The style pops up now and again as a limited edition, made in smaller quantities and sometimes available only at the brewery. As best I can recall, the last pilsner New Glarus made was Mistral back in 2018. Well, until now.

22 Pils was released this spring and is available only at the brewery. Described as a German Style Pilsner, it was made with a blend of "American, German and Czech heirloom Pilsner malts". Sounds excellent. The wort underwent a Double Decoction Mash - ausgezeichnet! The beer was then topped off with whole cone Diamant hops aus Deutschland.

Wait. Dia-what?

They are a rather new variety having been introduced in 2019. I wasn't able to find a Diamant Hops for Dummies site so I found myself parsing brewersese. One site made it sound like climate change is making life rough for growers of Noble hops and that Diamant was bred to survive the coming apocalypse thrive in the new environment in which we find ourselves. Uff da! That doesn't sound good.

A pils from New Glarus is a special occasion so I dug out a pilsner glass from the basement. I poured kind of, um, aggressively and ended up with a very large head of firm, white foam that proved to be in no hurry to go anywhere. The liquid was yellow and clear as day. A goodly number of bubbles were found inside making their way upwards. The last time I wrote about a pilsner I confessed to loving their aromas which remind me of summer with their green hoppy scents melding with a light maltiness. Well, this bier had that in spades. Beyond that, there were also hints of fruitiness and a little something floral. Simply wonderful.

It had a good, solid fizz to it as one would expect from a pils. The malt flavor was that tasty cracker-biscuit hybrid plus a little toasted bread thrown in for good measure. It was, after all, doubly decocted. The Diamant hops gave that herbal/spicy flavor which one expects from a Teutonic hop but there was also a fruitiness that was berry/melon-like. Depending on the sip, the beer could taste rather sweet. Not that it was; I think it was simply a stronger fruit flavor from the hops fooling my brain into believing this brew was laced with fructose.

On the finish the malty flavors faded leaving the more fruity elements of the hops to linger a short time before the more traditional spicy taste came to the fore. The denouement featured firm bitterness and dryness to make you forget the faux sweetness.

Ausgezeichnet! The malty flavor here is just great and I really enjoyed the hoppy tug-of-war between the herbal/spicy and fruity flavors. Fizziness is just right as is the astringent taste. And by "just right" I mean perfect. Crisp with a little bite but never distracting. I really hope there's a 23 Pils because this stuff is simply fantastic.

Junk food pairing: a unique pilsner like this demands a unique food pairing. Try a bag of Mrs. Fischer's Dark Jalapeno chips with your 22 Pils. These darker, extra-Maillardy chips have a little chili zing to them and go perfectly with this crisp, flavorful brew.

In Heaven There Is No Rauchbier: Hellscape by Lion Bridge Brewing Company

 

"So, what do you think of the Hellscape?" asked a voice to my left.

My Frau and I were sitting at the bar at Lion Bridge Brewing Company in Cedar Rapids, Iowa enjoying a flight of 5 of their beers, including Hellscape. The voice belonged to a gentleman a couple stools away who turned out to be an employee of the brewery.

“It’s very tasty,” I replied.

For the next few minutes, I chatted with him about sundry beer-related topics. His demeanor alternated between someone expressing pride in playing a role - I neglected to ask what his job duties were but he noted he worked there 2 days a week - in getting the beers we were drinking into those sampler glasses and that of a used car salesman. After learning we were from Wisconsin, he proceeded to give me a brief overview of the Iowa beer landscape. I have forgotten much of it but I think he said Toppling Goliath was the big dog. The New Glarus of Iowa, if you will. After that he mentioned Backpocket and Big Grove as, if I recall correctly, being on their heels. (Later that afternoon I saw Big Grove beers available in a refrigerator in the lobby of our hotel in Iowa City.) He then mentioned a few other Iowa breweries that weren’t familiar to me but perhaps I had come across them at the Great Taste of the Midwest.

This got me thinking. Why do so few Iowa breweries distribute in Wisconsin? Toppling Goliath does but that is the only one that I can think of. Maybe the stuff flows across the Mississippi River into Grant and Crawford counties like, well, a river but simply makes it no farther east. Are Wisconsin drinkers and/or distributors hostile to Iowa beer? Is there some ancient law that makes distributing Iowa beer here particularly burdensome?

Tangent: I went to a grocery store in Iowa City and, upon entering their singles cooler, was taken aback by the prices. A simple 12oz can of regular (i.e. – not barrel-aged, not hopped 20,000 times, not brewed by virgins with ingredients only found on North Sentinel Island, and so on) craft beer was $4. Onerous taxes? The fact that it was a small, Whole Foods-like store? Uff da!

I didn’t write much about Lion Bridge in my review of Živá Voda so I will say that it was in what looked to be an older building in Cedar Rapids’ Czech Village that had been extensively remodeled. It was open and sunny but had an industrial vibe with the brewing equipment behind walls of glass. The beer garden looked nice. The people were friendly and our bartender heartily endorsed the jalapeno beer cheese and was not wrong as it went well on a fine hamburger.

So why did my interlocutor strike up a conversation by asking about Hellscape, their smoked Helles? I don’t know but perhaps it was because Rauchbiers are untrendy as fuck yet there we were drinking the stuff. It was offered in cans so of course I brought a sixer back for home use.

I poured my Hellscape rather vigorously so I got a nice, big head of lovely white foam. Beneath lay a beer of a bright yellow hue that had a faint haze. It could have been chill haze as my cans were towards the back of my refrigerator where leftovers are encased in ice. Just as with its Czech-American cousin, there were many a bubble to be seen inside. The beer had a relatively simple aroma with a lovely biscuit smell complemented by the precious smoke courtesy of beechwood smoked malts from Weyermann over in Bamberg, Germany, the Rauchbier homeland.

My tongue felt a generous dose of fizz on my first sip before the savory smoke flowed over my tastebuds. Mmm…The medium-light body also held a light bready taste with just a smidgeon of spicy hops below. The hoppiness really came to fore on the finish as the malt flavors receded to let a firm bitterness and a hearty dryness take centerstage.

My glass was left with some fine lacing as I enjoyed sipping my way to the bottom of it. The smoke level wasn’t off the charts but it was certainly more than a mere accent. I adore smoke beers so I wouldn’t have said no to more smoky goodness. While I could have done with a little less of that astringent taste, I really liked the dry finish. With its fairly light body and at 5.2% A.B.V., it went down easily. It’s your hot weather Rauchbier.

Junk food pairing: there are many people who think smoke beers should always be paired with a complementary junk food like BBQ flavored things. That’s fine but don’t be afraid to counterprogram your snack choices with something that nothing to do with meat. Go with a bag of Herr’s Cream Ranch & Habenero chips. The heat makes for a nice contrast with the smoke in addition to the ranch.

The Corona Diaries Vol 49: The Labia Are Looking Warmer These Days

(March 2022)

(Check out The Corona Diaries Vol. 49 - Insert: Mapping)

Spring is nigh! With the warmer weather, that statue of a naked woman reclining with her legs spread a few blocks away doesn't inspire chills like those freezing labia did in January. 

We have had a rather dry winter so I am sure the farmers will be complaining soon, if they haven't already begun. On the plus side, my back was saved some agony. While the ergonomic shovel is a brilliant invention that genuinely makes things easier on your back, 12 inches of wet, slushy snow is still 12 inches of wet, slushy snow and, if I may paraphrase Professor Farnsworth from Futurama, every pound of it weighs about 100 pounds. So fancy shovel or not, it's still a lot of work. Also, I am pleased to report that we had no ice dams this year.

With more venues opening up and more in-person events to attend, I was happy to take the opportunity to head out on occasion. In the dead of winter I went to see a National Geographic Live presentation called "The Secret Lives of Bears". This consisted of a bearologist named Dr. Rae Wynn-Grant standing onstage with a giant Powerpoint slideshow behind her as she lectured about our ursine friends.

It was fun and informative. Bear cubs are extremely cute and I was amazed at just how much bamboo pandas eat. Dr. Wynn-Grant also noted that bearologists argue about how to define hibernation. We learned that bears do not go to the bathroom during hibernation and instead their bodies have ways of recycling bodily waste. Now that is some crazy voodoo, if you ask me.

My nature lessons continued outside on a walk at one of Madison's conservation parks.

A group of us met a volunteer nature expert for a walk to see what the wildlife was up to in the winter. There are no bears in Wisconsin this far south outside of a zoo so we didn't have to worry about disturbing one trying to sleep.

We didn't see much wildlife beyond the occasional squirrel and bird.

But we saw a lot of animal tracks: people, dogs, rabbits, and deer. We also came across lines like this in the snow.

Not all of the fun happens on the surface. That line was made by a mouse scurrying underneath the snow.

We stumbled upon evidence of deer, though thankfully we didn't step in it.

Later on, we came across more poop and our guide hypothesized that it had come from a cayote. And she did so with an exuberance that I have never felt upon discovering feces. Did David Attenborough ever get excited at finding poop out in the wild? I don't recall that in any of his programs. Perhaps he did but those scenes were just left on the cutting room floor.

While it was a very cold day, it was nice to be outside learning about Madison's wildlife. The guide and 1 or 2 of my fellow adventurers were really good at identifying trees – something I am not. I was quite jealous. So I think a book on Wisconsin's trees is in my future.

Speaking of trees, an entry or 2 ago I wrote about taking our Christmas tree down to the park by us and donating it so an artist could make a labyrinth. It took me a few weeks but I finally took a stroll through it.

It was fairly early on a Saturday morning so I had the run of the place to myself. At the entryway there was a "Tree Museum" with the various kinds of trees we put up in our homes and decorate for Christmas on display. I learned that, of the bunch, the Balsam Fir and White Spruce were native to Wisconsin.

After looking at the various types of trees I'd be encountering out in the labyrinth, I began my journey.

It was quite calm and peaceful, except for occasional noise from traffic. And cold too. Thankfully it was sunny. A spate of chilly days meant the lake was frozen good and solid so it was off to take a walk on the water.

I assume there's a limnological term for when sheets of ice gets pushed up and over chunks of ice or onto the shore but I don’t know what it is. Here the ice is slowly making its way over the riprap towards the shore.

There were a couple ice fishing shanties farther out. I could hear boisterous laughter from the one way out there and saw someone step out of it. He stood there for a short time and then retreated back inside. I'm not sure if he took a leak or was checking on tip ups.

It was just gorgeous out on the ice.

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I've cooked a few Ethiopian dishes since my last entry. You may recall that I made some spiced clarified butter, nit'ir qibe. Its first use was in a batch of doro wot which is an Ethiopian chicken stew seasoned with berbere. Berbere is basically an East African curry as it's a blend of a dozen or so spices. We buy it from Penzy's. I don't know how hot the stuff is traditionally but Penzy's do not hold back with the ground chili pepper.

My Frau made the doro wot while I tried my hand at injera bread again. While the injera turned out better than the first batch, it still was miles away from the light, spongy stuff I've had at restaurants and from Kukulu Market in Chicago.

The Frau's doro wot, on the other hand, was magnificent.

She'd made it before but I feel the nit'ir qibe really elevated this batch above her previous efforts as it tasted much more like the stuff we get at restaurants. Unlike the versions we get at restaurants, however, this stuff was spicy. I mean really hot. Not surprising, really, as there was a ¼ cup of berbere in it.

We each ate a healthy serving and drank cold beverages between each spoonful. I had an epic endorphin rush that lasted for half an hour or so. There is no doubt in my mind that I would have started hallucinating if I'd gone back for a second helping.

We were somewhere around Madison on the edge of the prairie when the doro wot began to take hold. I remember saying something like “I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should work the remote control…” 

After putting my bowl in the sink, I went out into the living room and sat on the couch for a while to enjoy my buzz.

The other Ethiopian dishes I've made were nowhere near as deadly but no less tasty.

First was a batch of cabbage gomen. I think gomen is simply greens so it's a bit like collard greens. Kind of. It was diced cabbage lightly sautéed and then simmered with lots of spices. I got a blister grinding up the fenugreek seed with a mortar and pestle. They are tough little buggers. It turned out well, though I will dial back the ginger next time. Just a little too much here and it went from pleasingly aromatic to just a tad on the bitter side.

The next dish was shrimp tibs. From what I can tell by my highly unexhaustive internet searches, tibs is a bit like an East African stir fry. Protein and vegetables are sautéed in nit'ir qibe with other spices. I was very happy with how it turned out.

This dish had berbere in it but a fairly small amount and so our tongues were spared. One ingredient that the recipe called for is korerima or black cardamom, though I am more familiar with it as Grains of Paradise. It's kinda sorta like black pepper with a bit of citrus flavor to it. But don't be fooled. Korerima is from Africa while black pepper is from India and they're from different plant families. I've bought Grains of Paradise in Milwaukee before but surely I can find it here in Madison at an ethnic grocery store somewhere.

My most recent attempt at Ethiopian cooking was a batch of sega alicha which is a beef stew with turmeric. It was very tasty.

The lesson here is to let the butcher cut up your meat if they offer to. I went into the butcher shop and asked for 2 pounds of beef stew meat. The guy went in the back and came out with a 2# slab of beef neck. He offered to cut it but I said no. Like a fool. It wouldn't have been that bad except my knives are not sharp and I am betting the folks at the butcher shop have very sharp ones that are just perfect for removing silver skin.

Very tasty. Next time I think I will add some dry mead in addition to the water/stock combination. No berbere so it was easy going on our mouths.

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The bonus photo this time is of what I call the UFO house here in Madison. It must be a semi-earthen home. And look at the red glass at the entryway. Surely this is where they had the neighborhood key parties back in the 70s.