(late December 2023)
You may recall from an entry or two ago that I had received a photograph from a friend of mine last month that depicted lefse being made. Well, December began with the promise of homemade Norwegian flatbread being fulfilled as he stopped by on the first of the month with a few sheets for us. Well, for me as my Frau is avoiding gluten these days.
If that wasn’t enough, the lefse was accompanied by a host of canned vegetables, sauces, and jams courtesy of his sister who, I was told, had "gone apeshit with the canning this year" and was perhaps going to parlay her food preservation skills and open a business. Wisconsin law was changed fairly recently allowing folks to sell home-canned foods without a license on a small scale.
There was pear jam and hot sauce; there was pickled watermelon rind, garlic, and peppers. If we had a pantry, it would have been stocked for the winter. I celebrated the bounty by whipping up a Virgin Mary garnished with the pickled garlic which was quite tasty and kept the vampires (and the Frau) away.
Living in Wisconsin, you know I had to also garnish the drink with cheese, finely aged cheddar, in this case.
The next day, the gang of turkeys that stalks the neighborhood traipsed through our backyard. They seemed appreciative that there was no snow as they pecked away at the ground.
On the following day, my Frau and I hit the road in the morning for Chicago. Our plan was to meet up with my mother and then head downtown. The drive was uneventful and we made good time as many faithful were at church and the Bears had a bye week allowing less faithful fans to go to church or just sleep in. We arrived at my mother’s place, put her in the car, and then drove down to the Jefferson Park El station where we caught the train.
Our first destination was the Christkindlmarket at Daley Plaza. The Blue Line’s Washington stop is at Daley Plaza, which was quite handy. Exiting the train, we made our way up to the street, and voila! We were at the market. As were hundreds and hundreds of other folks who were getting into the holiday spirit.
Truth be known, I should probably not be allowed at Christkindlmarkts as they have many – too many – opportunities for me to be led into temptation by all of the marzipan on offer. I am a sucker for those marzipan pigs, Glücksschwein. The line for the nearest sweets shop was out the door but I waited patiently as people slowly wended their way through the store. My mother and Frau remained outside as facing my inner marzipan demons was something that I alone could do.
Once inside, I eagerly scanned the shelves for the precious sweets amongst other cookies, candies, and a plethora of holiday themed trinkets. When parents weren't looking, I darted in front of small children to get a better look at the shelves and make sure they didn't attempt to get their grubby paws around the last of something I wanted.
I cannot recall when I became addicted to the luscious mix of sugar and ground almonds but I blame my German blood. The Germans love the stuff and view it with Teutonic seriousness. Hell, they even claim that it was invented in the German city of Lübeck. Marzipan made there is apparently recognized by the EU as a traditional regional specialty which I suppose makes Lübeck the Marzipan Capital of the World.
Due to our second destination, I wasn’t able to buy shopping bags full of the stuff and so I settled on this.
I love stollen. I love marzipan. These are two of the best foods ever invented. I just had to have them. And oh mama, were they good!
Having confronted my marzipan demons and lost, we headed to a stall and got some mulled cider. Further wandering found us in front of a stall selling paper stars that you could illuminate. Like a junkie to the needle, my Frau’s eyes grew wide and she stepped up to the counter determined to have one. Perhaps more specifically, have me buy her one. And so I did. It came nicely folded and fit in a purse just fine.
Show time neared so we left Daley Plaza for the Cadillac Palace Theatre where we were to see The Wiz. My Frau loves The Wizard of Oz in all, well, most of its incarnations. She has very fond memories of watching The Wiz as a girl so this production was a must-see for her.
Our tickets were e-tickets and of course I found that I could not get to the website to retrieve them and neither could the Frau. And so I went to the box office head bowed in shame to plead my case. Paper tickets were issued and in we went. I don’t recall ever having been to the Cadillac Palace Theatre and found it to be a lovely old place.
The production was a hoot. I am not a big fan of musicals but even I couldn’t help but get into it and sing along to "Ease On Down the Road". My mother enjoyed it too and my Frau, of course, loved it. The music and performances were wonderful and it was also just a big, colorful, melodic spectacle.
********
As December wore on, the days got colder and shorter. A few decorations, including the star I bought at the Christkindlmarkt, went up. My newest holiday tradition is ordering a stollen from Batch Bakehouse here in Madison. A few days later I zipped over there and picked it up.
Although Batch does not lace their stollen with marzipan, their dough is light and fluffy and extremely tasty nonetheless.
********
One day an invitation to go out for dinner came from a friend of mine. I first met him back in the early 90’s when I landed a job at a cafeteria in a private dormitory. Eventually he would teach me how to cook after I had graduated from dishwasher to prep cook. He, my Frau, and I spent a dark, chilly evening at Toby’s Supper Club, tucked away on the far southeast side of town. The place was packed.
Oddly enough, it was my first time there. Or, if it wasn’t, it had been decades since the last time. After 20 minutes or so, we got a table in the no smoking section.
It’s been a couple decades now since we had genuine no smoking sections at restaurants. I suppose the sign must draw the attention of Millennials and Gen Zers who are incredulous that people were allowed to indulge their tobacco habits inside restaurants in the not too distant past.
Once seated, we were treated to an archetypal Wisconsin supper club experience. Beer, Old Fashioned cocktails, relish tray, and so on.
Since my friend and I no longer work or bowl together, we don’t see one another anywhere near as much as we used to. And so we all passed the time in good company chewing the fat and catching up.
********
It was the solstice on the following day so I celebrated by hiking Morton Forest, which I’ve written about previously.
Most of the trees were bare and there was a definite chill in the air but, fortunately, it wasn’t particularly windy. Walking through scattered copses of evergreens, I could smell their brisk scents.
Much of nature had closed up shop for the season as these withered berries (wild grapes?) attest to.
I ran into no other hikers on the trails and I can certainly understand folks not wanting to walk them in the cold or to spend time amongst the leafless trees.
There was an occasional squirrel or bird, but the place was fairly still and quiet except for the crunching of leaves beneath my feet.
But I still need to be out in the forests, leaves or not. While the scenes had a sense of death, of ending, walking them now will make traipsing the trails come the spring even more sweet as life in the woods is renewed.
********
I rounded out the day by heading down to Olbrich Park for the annual winter solstice bonfire held by a local neighborhood association.
From a distance I could see the flames roaring and hordes of people milling about as the rhythm of a drum circle grew louder as I drew nearer.
The primal soundtrack was perfect for doing what human beings have been doing for thousands of years: staring at a fire and taking comfort in its warmth.
The same group does a summer solstice bonfire and these events are really nice with families aplenty in attendance. They aren’t commercialized with vendors everywhere hawking their wares or with lots of other activities going on. Instead they’re all about socializing with your neighbors and enjoying the decidedly offline and fairly simple pleasure of a bonfire.
The local news outlets came down and I was caught on camera. My boss spied me on the nightly news.
********
Bonus photo. Back in June 1977, Elvis was on what would prove to be his final tour and he played here in Madison on the 24th. On his way into town, his limo drove by a fight at the intersection of Highway 51 and East Washington. Elvis had the driver pull over and he leapt out to break up the fight. Here’s the marker.
No comments:
Post a Comment