Fearful Symmetries: The Corona Diaries Vol. 61: Luca Brasi eats the fishes

(mid-July 2002)

This is a mix pack of fancy eggs laid by, I think, heritage varieties of chickens. They’re from a farm about 30 miles north of here. Everything is organic, humane, and pasture-raised. Living that good country life apparently ensure that the shells are thicker than your usual eggs. You’ve gotta give it a little extra when you slap them against the rim of a bowl or pan.

I figured I’d start off with something colorful and cheery as I am sad to report that we had some nasty storms last month and one of our neighbors had a very large tree fall on his house during one of them.

This was a huge tree that I suspect pre-dated the house. In fact, I think it was already rather sizable when they started developing this part of the neighborhood in the late-40s. Mac, the owner was in the house when the tree fell too but, luckily, he escaped physical harm. The tale he tells is that there was a calm in the storm with the wind having died down. And then there was a sudden whoosh and the tree came tumbling and smashed into his abode. Perhaps a small vortex got whipped up rather quickly.

The house is a total loss. I feel terribly as the guy had recently had surgery and was on disability. Although the tree has been removed, there’s been nothing done to the house except for possessions being taken out. I suspect that the owner is haggling with his insurance company.

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Not a whole lot to report on the cooking front. With the heat, I’ve been grilling dinner which involves throwing hamburger patties together or marinating some chicken breasts. Nothing to write home about, really. Well, I will note that I have become rather partial to a German marinade which is made from dark lager beer, mustard, and a host of spices such as salt, pepper, thyme, dried mustard, garlic powder, et al.

When it gets hot out, it’s perfect weather for ice cream. I went to our local ice cream shop, Chocolate Shoppe, one day with the intention of getting a pint of my Frau’s favorite, lemon meringue. They don’t pre-pack this flavor so you have to ask for it. When my turn came, the girl behind the counter asked, "What can I get for you?"

I replied, "Can I get a quart of lemon meringue?" As I was saying "quart", it was as if my lips started moving in slow motion and a part of my brain did that long, slow "Nooooooo!" realizing that I had not uttered "pint" instead. On the other hand, the Frau was very happy when I got home.

When that had been eaten, I returned and bought a pint of Rhubarb Crisp which was excellent. I rationalized my ice cream gormandizing that week by noting that rhubarb is a vegetable and thusly eating this treat was a fine way to help fulfill that quota of 3 cups of vegetables a day. (My mother would be proud!) Furthermore, the ice cream is made with milk from our favorite local dairy, Sassy Cow, so eating those luscious, creamy spoonfuls was also supporting another fine local, family-owned business. And buying it at one of their ice cream parlors keeps high school kids employed and out of trouble instead of running wild and causing all manner of low-level mayhem.

I won't claim that rhubarb ice cream is unique to Chocolate Shoppe, but it doesn't seem to be particularly common.

Recently the Frau and I partook in the Wisconsin tradition that is the Friday fish fry. All around the state hungry hordes descend on their favorite establishments and say good riddance to the work week with an Old Fashioned cocktail before digging into a plateful of fish, potato, cole slaw, and a slice of bread or roll.

This tradition apparently started during Prohibition when taverns stumbled upon a way to stay afloat without selling alcohol. They would offer fish dinners on Fridays to the masses of Catholics in the state, most of whom were descendants of Polish and southern German immigrants. The 21st Amendment may have ended Prohibition, but it didn't end these ostensibly penitential meals as they are ubiquitous on Friday nights here in the 21st century. It isn't just taverns that offer it but basically every kind of establishment. I mean all kinds. Restaurants from the more plain to the fancy and even non-generic American/ethnic eateries like Chinese, Mexican, and Cajun; churches; VFW outposts - anyplace that has a deep fryer on premises.

Everyone seems to have a different idea of who has the best fish fry in town and sometimes arguments ensue when the topic is broached. Most disagreements result in nothing more than a good-natured ribbing but I’ve witnessed some disputants nearly comes to blows over the matter. It's like a scene from Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?.

"I said I was impressed with their fish fry, Martha. I'm beside myself with jealousy over their haddock. What do you want me to do, throw up?"

Here’s the menu presented to us that evening.

I personally prefer bluegill as their flesh has a nice, faint sweetness to it and the overall flavor is gentle but far from bland. Any joint that serves rye bread with their fish fry gets bonus points from me.

Notice the meat raffle. I believe they are mostly a Wisconsin and Minnesota phenomenon. From what I’ve read, meat raffles began in the early 1940s in response to wartime food rationing. People would donate some meat to the raffle in the hope of a big pay day so their entire family could enjoy, say, beef roast to their heart's content.

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For my most recent bike ride I took a trek downtown and to campus to check on the progress of all of the new construction and get some photographs of scenes that I could pair with older photos of the same spot from back in the day. Plus there were various items of historical interest that I wanted to get pictures of.

I set out after only a single cup of coffee so, when I got to the Capitol Square, I locked up my bike and went to get a cup of joe. Art Fair on the Square was getting going with artists proudly displaying their works and monied aesthetes parading from booth to booth. I stopped in at a coffee shop in the historic Tenney building, built in the Art Deco style in 1930. Many years ago I had a job interview there for the state Supreme Court, I think.

As I waited in line, I found myself standing next on this:

I’d wondered what Berlands was for some time after first encountering it and I found this article online explaining that it was a shoe store.

Today the Capitol Square area is home to upscale restaurants and luxury condos but it used to be the city’s main shopping district for the well-heeled and the hoi polloi alike. When giant malls opened on the perimeter of town in the early 70s, a lot of ordinary, average retail stores abandoned downtown. The area gained a rather shady reputation with strip clubs just off the Square, including one salaciously named The Dangle which undoubtedly sent a couple generations of 12 year-old boys into fits of laughter. And there were working girls, shall we say, plying their trade, especially on King Street, I am told. A friend once related the tale of parking his car there in the mid-80s and being solicited multiple times on his walk to the office.

The last remnant of that red light district, the Rising Sun massage parlor, finally closed a few years ago due to delinquent taxes, I believe.

Here's a then & now of the Square.

Just down the street from this scene I had an opportunity for another now & then photoshoot.

I eventually left the Square and headed towards campus. This involved a stroll down State Street where I took photos of some mosaic entryways such as this one.

I presume this refers to Leonard Gay, a local real estate mogul 100 years ago who is known for the Gay Building, Madison’s first skyscraper from 1915 which still stands on the Square today.

My next then & now photo required me to get to the opposite side of Monona Bay and rather than bike it, I took a more direct route along the railroad tracks that go through the bay. I came upon a fisherman just as a reeled in his catch – a bass.

Unsurprisingly, the Bass-O-Matic skit from Saturday Night Live immediately popped into my head.

My ride lasted about 6 hours when it should probably have been half that. Several times I would head off to a certain part of town only to recall that I had forgotten to take a photo of something at where I had just left. And so I was going back and forth to places I’d already been at to get that one last snap that I had forgotten to take previously.

Eventually, though, I tacked a northeastern course for home. My last stop was a homebrew museum dedicated to firefighting in Madison.

Built in 1948, Fire Station No. 8 was decommissioned in 1990 and bought by Mike Fuss, a firefighter here in Madison who loved to collect the memorabilia of his trade and tracking the history of firefighting here. My understanding is that he lives on the 2nd floor and the museum is open by appointment.

The place was quiet when I got there so I just wandered around the building.

Personally, I find this display to be a bit creepy.