The Corona Diaries Vol. 24: Look At the Animals (With Muskrat Video!)

Late June 2021

In the dog days of summer, when it's ungodly hot, I long for days when you can build an igloo in your yard like my neighbor did this past winter.

I find that simply looking at snow has a cooling effect on me and try to save TV shows and movies that take place in cold settings for viewing in the summer. The coldest a story has ever made me was when I read The Terror by Dan Simmons. It’s a fictional account of Sir John Franklin’s lost expedition of 1845 which was to investigate the Northwest Passage, but the ships got stuck in the ice pack and, um, things did not end well, let’s say. Reading about men battling -50 degree cold got me shivering something fierce. I thoroughly enjoyed the tale which slowly unfolded over the course of 750 pages and highly recommend it. But it may not be for you if accounts of men having frostbitten limbs amputated, eating one another, and dying of scurvy are not your thing. On the other hand, these bits are assured to distract you from the summer heat. The novel was adapted for a television series which was very good and rather faithful to the source material.

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I left off last time having found the Lost Creek neighborhood and the fabled Penny Lane. From there it was off to the suburb of McFarland where I would catch the Lower Yahara River Trail and its mile long boardwalk along the north shore of Lake Waubesa. It begins at a park where I got a nice photo of this bird:

Our copies of Birds of Wisconsin are still missing so I cannot ID this little guy but suspect it's a sparrow of some kind.

After attempting to fill one of my tires, I hit the trail.

Once I had made it to the far side of the lake, I was at the William G. Lunney Lake Farm County Park which is adjacent to the Capital Springs State Recreation Area and so you've got a rather sizeable natural area to wander around in.

Right off the bike path is a boardwalk leading out into the wetlands which I first encountered on a ride last summer.

It was calm and relaxing out on the viewing platform in the middle of the wetlands. Red winged black birds were everywhere – flying around and landing on cattails to take breather or look at whatever it is they look at before taking off once again.

On my way back I ran into this:

The toad wasn't afraid of me and was ready for its close-up as it happily sat there while I struggled to get a decent photograph.

The trail got more crowded as I neared the county park. It’s a very popular camping destination and folks were getting out and about so there were more walkers and rollerbladers to contend with. This path also seems to attract the biggest jagoff bike riders. These are usually men (whom I suspect to be members of upper management of various area companies) that ride expensive racing bikes and don those tight-fitting cycling jerseys so that their drag coefficient is just that little bit less than those of us who are content with t-shirts. Some of them like to zip between the slower trail users at a perilously close distance as they blather on about their underlings at the office.

In another section of the park, I ran across two pairs of Sandhill cranes wandering the same field but at opposite ends.

It’s really nice to pull over and just watch them. They walk so gracefully at a leisurely pace, never seeming to be in a hurry. For meals, they peck at the ground, take a few steps, and then peck some more. Again, all very unhurriedly. Like how the Spaniards eat their meals.

Farther down the trail I came across a wabbit. I believe this one is of the cottontail variety. One of these days I am going to do a little reading on the differences between rabbits and hares and figure out what we have here in Wisconsin.

Soon enough I was cruising back into Madison on the south side of town and recalled that it was Juneteenth. So, I decided to zip over to the Bram's Addition neighborhood which is home to a large number of black residents as well as Penn Park where the holiday festivities would be held.

I was heading down Bram Street and recalled that a house at the end of the block was marked for demolition when I biked by it last summer. I figured I’d go check out what had become of the lot. My memory of the demolition notice was a bit hazy but I think the structures there were torn down because of flooding issues that would cost too much to mitigate. I found the buildings gone and that the lot remained undeveloped, left to return to its natural state. In their places were some nice flowers in full bloom.

Unfortunately, I was early for the Juneteenth festivities. People were pitching tents and deploying chairs but things were generally quiet. I'd been out for about 4 hours at this point and was quite thirsty and peckish but all I could do was stare forlornly at the unmanned fried chicken truck and the flavored ice stand which was shuttered tight.

I headed north towards Wingra Creek where I would catch its bike path but got sidetracked when I spied a gaggle of ducks on the shoreline. I went to investigate and, after scaring the ducks away, encountered what looks to me to be a woodchuck. When I got too close, it ducked down into the burrow on the shore. I didn’t think that woodchucks made their homes near water. They’re more into forests and fields or so I had been led to believe. Perhaps it was a squatter who had decided to take over a muskrat burrow.

After watching the rodent, I hit the trail. Crossing a bridge, I ran into a guy looking down at the creek where he pointed out a turtle that was sunning itself. I believe it was a painted turtle.

Out in the middle of the creek was a muskrat enjoying itself. It would float on the surface for a little while letting the current take it downstream. Then it would dive to the bottom and poke around before surfacing whereupon the whole process would start again. I managed to get some of it on video.

I finally got home and realized I'd been out for about 5.5 hours. That first beer tasted mighty fine!

Bonus photo: Piper relaxing in the sun.

I'll Be Your Weißbier: Hefeweizen by Dovetail Brewery

There I was at my local purveyor of barley pop, trapped in the indecision of another cooler full of colorful beer labels all jockeying for my attention. Fortunately, it didn't take me long to shake that kid in a candy store stupor after seeing $18 4-packs of "imperial" hard seltzer and one of those wapatoolie beers that admonishes you to keep it cold lest the can rupture and you ignominiously get your eye shot out by a chunk of mango. Oh, and there was also a beer brewed with marshmallow flavoring. Nothing says "craft" like a phial of flavoring solution from a chemist in New Jersey.

There was a stark contrast on those shelves. Near chest level (For me. Closer to eye level for your average person.) was that imperial hard seltzer made by somebody who pushed a few buttons on a Jetsons-like food synthesizing machine which filled a vat with water and them dumped in corn syrup and yeast. After a few cycles a robotic arm gently lifted an eye dropper and dipped it into a bottle of flavor and applied liberally. This was then put into cans and sold for $17.99.

Unless you are so short that you have to stand on a box to kick a duck in the ass, you'll have to bend over or crouch down to get a view of the shelf near the bottom of the cooler to find the beer which was the product of monk-like dedication to the art of brewing. I refer to stuff that was imported from an exotic, faraway place - Chicago - and not simply shuttled over from across the lake. The crew at Dovetail lovingly crafts their beers the old fashioned way – sans flavoring solution – and infuses the terroir of Chicago into every batch by letting their brews lounge in a coolship. And the love was available for a comparatively paltry $9.99.

That choice was clear. I squatted down to see if Dovetail had loosed any Rauchbier upon us but, alas, they hadn't. Instead there was a very tasty Kölsch(-style ale), a wonderful Helles – both of which I'd tried – and a hefeweizen which I had not yet poured into my maw. Which to choose?

I went with the hefeweizen but you know this already because it's in the title of this blog post and there are pictures of it too. I did so mainly because my dearly departed brother loved the style and I'd been thinking about him a lot in the days before walking into that store. Truth be told, he always comes to mind when I see a hefeweizen whether it be in a cooler, on a menu, or in a glass. My brother did not drink a lot, but when he did, it was always a hefeweizen. I can still see him pouring a Weihenstephaner Hefe Weissbier that last time we enjoyed a brew together. And so Weissbier brewers have that sentimental marketing advantage over me. "Buy me…it's what your brother would have wanted…you know it is…"

It was a lovely, sunny day when I poured my Dovetail hefeweizen into a proper Weißbier glass. (My brother would have expected no less.) The pour wasn't too bad as I ended up with a big crown of firm, white foam atop a sea of hazy gold. Very pretty. And the foam lasted a long while so it remained a lovely sight even as I supped. As hefeweizens go, I prefer mine to be on the estery/banana side versus the phenolic/clovey side and so I was very happy to smell banana in addition to bread and a dose of grassy hops.

I was further gratified that there wasn't much clove taste and rather more banana and some bubblegum. And a yeasty/bready wheat flavor. These were all complemented by a firm fizziness and one of the more overlooked aspects of the hefeweizen: its tartness/lemony taste. I've never understood the desire to serve this bier with a slice of lemon because that taste is already there. It's like bringing your own Gideon's bible to a hotel. Dovetail endowed its hefeweizen with a slight zesty lemon flavor. I think that it and the bubbles conspired to give it a bit of an astringent bite.

That banana/bubblegum combo hung on after I swallowed as did some wheat. It was fairly dry at the end with a bit of spicy hop bitterness.

After taking a tentative sip, I rather eagerly quaffed this stuff because it is excellent. I've had heavier versions of the hefeweizen (Lust, for example, from the now defunct Saint Francis Brewing Co.) and lighter ones (e.g. - Hatha-Weizen from Ale Asylum) and this hit a comfortable spot in the middle. It's 4.8% A.B.V. and was light enough to ardently sip on a hot day yet wholly satisfying with its rich, full flavor.

My brother was a Chicagoan through and through. Had he lived long enough to see Dovetail open its doors, I have no doubt he'd have enjoyed drinking this beer from our hometown. Prost, mein Bruder.

Junk food pairing: Dovetail's hefeweizen goes well with cheese popcorn, especially white cheddar. If you're inclined to go off the beaten path, try a spicy hot cheese popcorn such as Jays O-Ke-Doke variety for that authentic Chicago experience.

Swank and Hoppy Vibes: Bathtub Bier by Young Blood Beer Co.

Whenever I'm at the store and see cans of Young Blood Beer Co. beer, I can't help but think of Jack and Jim Youngblood, the unrelated defensive end and linebacker, respectively, who played for the Rams in the 1970s. I saw their football cards just too many times as a kid not to have that surname etched into my memories. It is also the case that, when I see cans of Young Blood Beer Co. beer, I tend to see lots of fruited sours and IPAs and lactose and guava – every trendy style and additive is represented. These are beers that I have no interest in drinking, alas. However, I recently came across the brew formerly known as Shower Bier, a Munich Helles they have concocted for people like me. Bathtub Bier is the new name because the former one was already taken by some brewery out east that apparently had a litigious streak and so the name was changed to another bathroom fixture. (I think a brown ale called "Bidet Bier" should be next.)

I was hesitant to try this beer, to be honest. If a brewery cranks out mostly IPAs and fruited sours, I tend to have little faith in their ability to brew lagers. Earlier this year I remarked to a friend who works in the brewing industry that I’d had a Spaten Hell for the first time in ages and that it was remarkably tasty. He replied to the effect of, "Well, no shit. They’ve been brewing it for 100+ years. They’ve got the process down, they’ve got a house yeast strain they know inside and out, and so on. It had better be good." Which is why I avoid the lagers from haze factories that let a beer mature in cold temperatures only slightly more frequently than the appearance of Halley’s Comet. I just have to question if they know what they’re doing with so little practice apparent to me.

Last year, for instance, I noticed a rye lager of some kind on the shelves from Drekker Brewing. All I’d ever seen by them up to that point were milkshake this and slushie that. I love rye lagers but they’re as scarce as hen’s teeth. In the end, though, I passed on this rare brew. I was not inclined to spend $16 on a 4-pack by a brewery that had, as far as I could tell, never brewed a lager in its life. Hell, it’d probably have traces of passion fruit in it, I reasoned. Another factor was, quite frankly, that I did not want to give my money to them. They’re a foreign brewery (out of Fargo, North Dakota) that helps clog the shelves at my local bottle shop with beer I consider to be a novelty, at best. I simply do not want to be party to the Hazy Milkshake Slushie Industrial Complex. (And while I generally have good will towards men and women and the rest of humanity, there is surely a special place in Hades for people who make exploding cans of fruit beer and blame the customer.)

Young Blood got a pass because A) they’re local and B) I was able to buy a single can instead of investing in a 4-pack. In addition, I’d heard generally good things about them and there are exceptions to every rule, after all.

When I read the label, my heart sank. Well, just a tiny bit because beer labels really shouldn’t be a source of distress. It read, in part, "…with a slightly bready malt background." Huh? I thought the whole point of a Munich style Helles Lager was that the bready malt part was in the foreground. Imagine reading the label of a hazy/juicy/NE IPA that read, "…with faint notes of guava, passion fruit, and mango in the background." Odd.

Bathub Bier looks really nice. It is a brilliant light yellow (unlike my photograph) and my glass had a big, lovely, white head on it. The bier was a tad hazy (chill haze?) but I could still see bubbles inside running ever upwards. I was surprised at how unsmelly it was. Maybe it wasn't very fresh – there was no date on the can. (It did, however, have "DANK AND DRIPPY VIBES" printed on the bottom.) I couldn't smell anything when the glass was waved in close proximity to my nose and I had to stick it up close. When I did, I caught a nice bready aroma accompanied by some grassy hops scents and a slight citrus something. Either this beer was lacking in the aroma department or my nose was having on off day.

Things got better on the tongue as I found a nice, light body and that the label did not lie. It had a delicate breadiness to it with more herbal and spicy hop flavors on top giving a moderate bitterness. It was clean and crisp and had a nice firm fizz to it which really hit the spot one summer day. The finish was on the dry side with the hops getting spicier and the fizz ably assisting.

It seems weird to me that a Helles would have so little malt flavor. This tasted much more like a German pils with its malty background and largely Noble hop flavors more to the fore. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed this bier but calling it a Helles just isn't right in my book.

Junk food pairing: Pair Bathtub Bier with a bag of Vegan Rob's Brussels Sprouts Puffs. The sorghum will make up for the lack of malt and the delicate green vegetable flavor complements the bier's hoppiness well.

Fear of the Dark: Slingshot by Backpocket Brewing

Backpocket Brewing's hometown is Coralville, Iowa but it has an outpost in Dubuque, some 90 miles to the northeast. My Frau and I happened to be in Dubuque last month and we managed to hit 3 out of the 4 brewpubs in town (that I could find mention of) on a whirlwind tour. None of them distribute to Madison so it was all new to us. (Do any Iowa breweries distribute to Wisconsin other than Toppling Goliath?) Now that I think about it, it's likely that I've tried Backpocket's beer previously at the Great Taste of the Midwest but cannot say when or which beer.

Truth be told, Backpocket's Dubuque outpost is really more of a tied house as the beer is shipped in from Coralville but this is more distinction than difference. As with 7 Hills Brewing Company that we visited earlier that day, Backpocket is located in the gentrifying Millwork District and is in a building that was once home to Novelty Iron Works. And so the interior was post-industrial chic with exposed joists and other structural bits lit by those faux Edison lights or whatever you call them.

My Frau had a Belgian blonde ale which we both agreed was tasty but the highlight for me was their Crispii Pilz, a pilsner which was crisp and fizzy and really hit the spot on a blisteringly hot evening. We grabbed a six pack of their Dunkel, Slingshot, to bring home. Along with Slingshot, Backpocket offers a Helles as a year-round beer. It was nice to see not one but two German style lagers on offer all year long instead of a slate of hazy juicy IPAs.

Things started off oddly immediately after pouring the beer into my glass. There was a lovely tan head and the beer was clear with a smattering of bubbles to be seen inside. The problem was that it was a dark amber color – too light. I was able to see through it. I smelled just a smidgeon of roasty grain in addition to plum, some malt sweetness, and a nice grassy hop scent.

This theme of not being dunkely enough continued in my mouth. There was very little of that grainy roastiness, no hints of chocolate or coffee either. It was sweeter than I am used to for the style with both malty and fruity (again, think plum) kinds of sweetness. There was also an earthy-floral taste like vanilla as well. On the finish I tasted a lingering honey-like sweetness complemented by a mild spicy hop flavor.

I've encountered this before – I think it was with Bull Falls' Schwarzbier – where a dark lager wasn't dark enough and it comes across more like an Altbier. As far as any semblance to a Dunkel, Slingshot misses the mark. For starters, it's too light in color. Roastiness and some coffee and dark chocolate, qualities which are normally present in the aroma and taste and are the things I crave in the style, are basically M.I.A. here.

What redeems Slingshot is that vanilla flavor. Combined with the sweetness, it gives the beer a cream soda-like countenance. And when the beer is nice and cold, it dulls the sweetness a bit so you end up with this slightly sweet, vaguely vanilla-y drink with a nice fizz to it. Now, I'd rather have those Dunkel qualities on full display but Slingshot is a pleasant drink that is not totally unlike cream soda which is really quite tasty, especially during a heatwave. I found it to be a refreshing treat.

Junk food pairing: Slignshot will pair well with pizza flavored foods such as Pepperoni Pizza Combos.

The Corona Diaries Vol. 23: Don't Feel Like Stilton But I Am To Them

Here is the card I received on Father's Day:

I remarked to a friend that it was a cheesy card and he replied that it Colby been worse. I groaned.

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I found a photograph taken here in Madison in the early 1970s, I think, basically just a few blocks down the street from us. So I biked over there one day to try and take a picture from roughly the same spot 50 or so years later.

You'll also notice the barbed wire on the left in the old photo. Today that area is a park and the big hill out of frame is a frisbee disc golf course. Old timers call it "Radar Hill" because from the late 1950s(?) through 1972, it was home to the "Truax Communications Facility Annex". Truax Air Force Base was a few miles to the northwest out at the airport and, from what I've read, this facility annex was part of NORAD (North American Air Defense Command). I have also read that it kept an eye out for Russian planes heading to Chicago so that, in the event of attack, it could give early warning so that the Nike missiles that were stationed down there could be put into action.

The facility was retired in 1972 and the land sold to the city which made it a park. I've wandered that section of the park but could find nothing left of the old Air Force site except for some barbed wire tipped fence at the top of the hill.

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On one recent Saturday morning I headed out for a bike ride. My only goal that day was to check out a subdivision on the far southeast side – Lost Creek - whose streets were all named after Beatles songs (and one John Lennon tune). I thought it'd be fun to get a snap of the signs for Day Tripper Drive and Penny Lane.

Since it was on the way, I stopped at my beloved Acewood Conservation Park. It had been very dry as of late so the retention pond was quite shallow but it was a lovely morning and birds were singing all around me.

I got sidetracked a few more times making my way to the Lost Creek neighborhood from Acewood. First, I stopped to watch a family of Canada geese waddling down a sidewalk. Next, I rode down a dead-end road to see what was there. After crossing a creek over an old stone bridge, I found that there was a business offering "recycling services" at the end of the road. Back in the days of yore, this was called a junk yard.

My next detour was to go down a sidewalk which I'd spotted when I had ridden by on previous occasions. All I'd been able to see previously was that it led into some tall grass and disappeared in the distance. I found that it ran alongside the sheds of a storage joint before ending a bit shy of a quarry. (A junk yard and now a quarry. Doctor Who references are everywhere!) Nothing exciting but I did spy a red winged blackbird that was flying back and forth between two trees. I feared that I would be attacked again as I had been in Dubuque a week or so earlier. Instead, I caught this:

"Holy crap! What the?! For the love of God!"

And then not 2 seconds later.

"Oh, hey. What's up?"

"Howdy neighbor. Nice day we're having today."

I made my way back to the road and continued riding until I came to an abandoned farm. Lost Creek could wait as I just had to take a look. There was a for sale sign out front and its current residents, some turkeys, were out for a stroll.

Despite it being a brilliant, sunny morning and shiny new houses sitting right across the street, it was still rather spooky wandering around the old farmstead. The garage and the outbuildings, like the one above, all appeared to have fallen into disuse some time ago. Collapsed roofs and missing doors gave rise to mysterious, shadowy interiors. Who knows what danger lurked in those tenebrous rooms? At worst, a critter like a racoon that doesn't want to be disturbed by pesky humans.

The remains of an old windmill were slowly being consumed by nature. It was a scene that would not have been out of place in Annihilation.

I rode out of the farm's driveway thinking that Lost Creek was still up the road a little way but I immediately saw Yesterday Drive in front of me and realized I was there.

Lost Creek is a small neighborhood and quite secluded. Yesterday Drive is the only street that connects the subdivision to the main road. The rest of it is either fenced off or ends at some woods. My mission was accomplished as I biked down Penny Lane.

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Bonus photo. I snapped this photo of a Mallard hen being chased across the street by a very persistent drake. I felt badly for her because he just wouldn’t take no for an answer. On the other hand, this may have been a normal mating pas de deux or they may have simply been having fun. No zoologist am I.

A Salt & Vinegar Miscellany I

For better or for worse, I have decided to persist with my salt & vinegar Reinheitsgebot and keep the lengthier reviews for potato chips. But there, are, of course, a plethora of salt & vinegar flavored snacks that are not made of sliced potatoes and I have been trying some of them. Here are some brief factoidy takes on them.

The pretzels had a nice vinegar tang to them but also featured artificial butter flavor which is gross. They were a bit like crunchy margarine sticks.

I don't know what a popchip is but they're not fried and taste like cardboard.

Both of these ended up in the garbage disposal.

Penitenziagite!: Rewatching The Name of the Rose

set the Blu-ray player in motion at dusk. Inside was my as-yet unplayed Blu-ray disc of The Name of the Rose, Jean-Jacques Annaud's 1986 "palimpsest of Umberto Eco's novel", i.e. – film. The idea was that it would be dark outside by the point the film's heroes, William of Baskerville and Adso of Melk, were plunged into the mysteries of the abbey. My timing was pretty good as the light was all but gone from the sky as the pair was wandering the snowy hill where the body of Adelmo of Otranto had been found.

If memory serves, I first saw The Name of the Rose back in 1990 or '91 when my roommate went on a mini Sean Connery marathon and rented it on VHS from Four Star Video. I fell in love with it instantly. The DVD was certainly an upgrade from videotape but the movie portrays a world lit by fire and the old NTSC television standard just wasn’t up to the task of accurately reproducing all of the film's textures of light and shade. While nothing will match a fine 35mm print of The Name of the Rose, I figured the Blu-ray would at least be leaps and bounds ahead of previous home viewing methods. And so it was.

As expected, the picture was much sharper and more detailed. While the film was intentionally made with an emphasis on drab colors and has a kind of grainy, dingy look befitting the time and place, lighter colors seemed a little more brilliant while the shadows were darker and contrasted more with the candlelight. I didn't notice any digital artifacts, though I wasn't actively scanning my TV screen for them. In short, I've never seen the movie look so beautiful. But I still want to see it on the big screen on film!

A large part of why I adore this movie so is that I am enamored of the European Middle Ages. Here it is the Late Middle Ages – 1327 – and you've got a bunch of monks venerating books with the passion of Barry in High Fidelity, just less ostentatiously. But, instead of revering Led Zeppelin and Echo and the Bunnymen, these monks cherish their St. Thomas Aquinas and Aristotle. Especially Aristotle. I suspect I enjoy medieval history in large measure because I can see my world underneath all of the superstition and behind the Christianity. Yet it is also foreign and exotic. And that tension is something I find fascinating and addictive.

Another thing I enjoy immensely is a good mystery and there are multiple ones here. Who killed whom? What are the various characters hiding? To describe the film as a Sherlock Holmes tale set in the Middle Ages is an oversimplification but not wholly inaccurate. Umberto Eco's novel also has the whodunnit elements but also much, much more.

The skeletal plot is thus: A Franciscan friar named William of Baskerville, played by Sean Connery, and his novice, Adso of Melk, a young Christian Slater, arrive at a Benedictine abbey where a group of their fellow Franciscans are to debate a Papal delegation on the matter of Christ's poverty. This was a real bone of contention in the 14th century and Wikipedia says it was known as the "theoretical poverty controversy". Shortly after they arrive, William notices a fresh grave in the abbey's cemetery and he is told that an illuminator, Adlemo, recently died under mysterious circumstances. And so William investigates his death and concludes it was a suicide. But another monk, a translator of Greek named Venantius, is found dead, his corpse in a vat of pig's blood. William is now investigating murder.

The movie hews to the murder investigation much more closely than the novel which gives many pages to the debate surrounding Christ's poverty and matters of the Church more generally. Eco was a semiotician so the book dedicates many a page to signs and symbols. One scene that I loved when I reread the book last year was when Adso stands before a doorway and ponders the arch and the art and the inscription for 4 or 5 pages. Still, while the movie doesn't go into the history in depth and can only dedicate so much time to the themes the book elaborates upon at length, I think Annaud elevates them above being mere baubles.

As movies go, The Name of the Rose probably portrays the early 14^th century more realistically than any other. Or, at least as realistically. As noted in the October 1986 article about the film in American Cinematographer magazine, "Every prop, every piece of furniture, every book in the film was handmade in Italy." When William uses his glasses to inspect an illustration on the desk of one of the scribes, that gold leaf is the real deal. And the monks who inhabit the monastery are a genuine grotesquerie with their tonsures, moles, missing teeth, cataract-ridden eyes, exceedingly pale complexions, and so on. Most of them are vulgar in one way or another. Add in a few dwarves/little people and you get this weird Fellini-esque vibe.

As would likely have been the case in 1327, the abbey is populated by men from various part of Europe and beyond. Malachi, the head librarian, is played by the German actor Volker Prechtel. Here Prechtel's chiseled features, his large nose, and a thin, U-shaped bit of unkept hair all conspire to give him a stern countenance. So, when William tries to gain access to the library, his curt replies consisting solely of "No" in a German accent just come across as extra sinister. It's a little thing but just so effective and memorable.

Home video releases have no deleted scenes and I have heard nothing about material being excised from the shooting script but I had to wonder if there is material on the cutting room floor. Early on when the Abbot goes to William's cell to greet his new guests, we see him fiddle or clutch the rather ostentatious gold cross he wears around his neck. And Annaud makes sure cinematographer Tonino Delli Colli gives us a close-up of the large ring he wears as Adso kisses it. I think the book makes more of the wealth the Abbot displays – he's hosting a debate on Christ's poverty, don't forget – and I am curious if this scene is just a brief nod to the debate or if scenes involving the Abbot and his valuables were edited out or perhaps scripted but never filmed.

In my latest viewing I finally noticed a flub. At one point William and Adso are in the scriptorium looking at the desk of Venantius, I believe. William finds a scrap of paper with some Greek text and notices an odd smell about it. He deduces that something was written on it in lemon juice so he places the paper above a candle or lamp flame so the heat induces a chemical reaction and makes the citrus symbols visible. Later in the film, William presents this scrap of paper to the Abbot as evidence to show motive for the murders. But William exposes the hidden text again by placing the paper near the flame when it should already be there.

I've been listening to the film's soundtrack by James Horner recently and it is wonderful. I love the choral voices, the pulsing bass notes, the chime-like sounds, and the drone of what I suspect is a hurdy gurdy. So I paid special attention to the audio portion of the movie on my recent viewing. It is notable how often there is no music and we are left with only diagetic sounds. When someone tries to drop a large stone on William as he and Adso stroll the abbey grounds, the novice catches site of the threat and pushes William out of harm's way. They then give chase. But there is no music attempting to heighten the action, just the sounds of footfalls on wood and grunts. The audio portion here is spartan and realistic as well as wholly appropriate and effective.

At times the volume goes up to jolt the viewer such as when a sotto voce conversation between William and the Abbot concludes and we immediately get the loud squeals of a pig being slaughtered. Sacred sounds tend to be in hushed tones while the profane blare like Gabriel's horn. But the audio dynamics are also used to illustrate the difference between the abbey's inhabitants and outsiders. For example, there is William's joyous outburst when he and Adso steal their way into the library. Not only is it loud, but it is a laugh, something that we know Jorge would disapprove of immensely.

Foley artists were kept busy because most scenes have creaky wooden floors or just some part of the environment making noise. Add in voices speaking Latin and/or people speaking English with an accent and it just creates a wonderfully rich, evocative, and polyglot atmosphere.

And the characters here are so very fun. The monks and friars that are the least bit significant all have distinct personalities, countenances, ways of speaking, and so on. For instance, there's William's fellow Franciscan, Ubertino of Casale, with a deep, slightly raspy voice who draws out syllables so that most of what he says has a melodramatic quality to it. Berengar is overweight, unnaturally pale, and I think the only time we hear his voice is when he screams in a very feminine manner. I just love how the film makes the monastery out to be this menagerie of humanity.

One thing that didn't occur to me until my recent viewing was just how densely packed the film is with information. I was reminded of JFK and how Oliver Stone was constantly throwing evidence and conspiracy theories at the viewer. Here several characters and their motivations have to be presented even if just to make them a suspect. We see Berengar lustfully gaze at the young Adso while Malachi's steely eyes throw shade at William. Annaud has William explain some things to Adso while brief cutaways show us people's facial expressions that impart even more information. And because so many monks are not leading the pious life prescribed for them, there is much indeed to tell the viewer.

While it doesn't have the glacial pace of a Tarkovsky film (I mean no offense to the Russian auteur), The Name of the Rose moves slowly as did life in a medieval abbey, I suppose. The murder mystery takes centerstage but there's also Adso's young lust for the girl who lives in the village outside the abbey. Yes, it presents an opportunity for a salacious scene but her character also provides motiviation for Adso and helps illustrate that the clergy don't always view the laity with vos estis sal terrae in mind. And there's the debate about Christ's poverty. In addition, we have William's rationality competing against his faith. Yes, these topics yield to the mystery but there is a lot to be had here.

Watching The Name of the Rose should be an annual rite for me although it is currently more of a biennial thing. And, having read the book last year, methinks I must now rewatch the mini-series from a couple years back. But first I shall listen to the BBC audio drama adaptation.

Still Beyond the Pale: Triple 5 by New Glarus Brewing

As the great Zaphod Beeblebrox once said, "Belgium, man! Belgium!"

Belgian and Belgian-style beers have, for reasons that are not entirely clear, an air of refinement about them that other beers lack. At least for me. Maybe it's because sophistos at trendier establishments drink the stuff out of chalices and goblets instead of simple pint glasses and this makes them appear aristocratic.

Another factor is that I've seen breweries make a big to-do over them in a way they don't other, perhaps more plebian, styles. Take Sprecher, for instance. They have a German name and a reputation for making excellent Central European brews like Vienna lagers and Schwarzbiers. So what did they brew for their 30^th anniversary? Why a Belgian quad, of course. A couple years later they released the Belgian Progression Pack with 4 types of Belgian ales: an enkel, a dubbel, a tripel, and a quad. A year or so later they opened the cellar and unleashed a blueberry lambic on us.

And then there's New Glarus. Remember when their Belgian Red and other Belgian-style fruit beers came in wine bottles? The quotidian stuff came in 12oz bottles but you could only buy the Belgian brews in milliliters because the metric system is for civilized people. While today you get Belgian Red in 12oz bottles, they only come in 4-packs because they're still special, I guess. And they have a whole cave system for aging the Belgian beers that Werner Herzog could make a documentary about. "Are we today the drinkers who look back into the abyss of time when we see the bottles of Belgian ales?"

Adding to the mystique of Belgian beers is the complexity of making them. A brewer must age them so that detritus from the air sours them just right and endows the beer with funkadelic flavors that would lead a casual beer drinker to think it was skunk. Sometimes fruit is involved and in other instances fresh batches are blended with those that have been carefully aging in a vast cave system that requires a degree in spelunking to manage. This may not be rocket science but it's still something of a Daedalean endeavor.

While I have always appreciated Belgian styles, it's generally been from a distance. A chalice here or a snifter there but never too many nor too often lest people think I am some kind of beer snob. (Ahem – ed). However, I think I've had more Belgian-style beers this year than I've had in the previous…previous…well, few…several. I don't know exactly. And this is not to say that I've quaffed dozens and dozens of 'em. Let's see, there was Wit TF by Hinterland, Allagash White, and a couple three New Glarus brews. Now I can add another New Glarus notch to the headboard – Triple 5.

Released back in February, this beer has a real oddball name that pairs number types. It just sounds wrong to have a multiplicative number followed by a cardinal one and that's all. Triple 5 whats? Where's the noun? Well, the bottle tells you that it is a Belgian triple that was brewed from 5 grains: barley, white wheat, oats, brown rice and corn. Mystery solved. But it also engenders a new conundrum for me: what is a Belgian triple?

"Tripel" is more correct, I suppose. I've always just assumed that these number indicator thingies were simply a measure of alcohol content so your tripel had more alcohol in it than an enkel or dubbel but less than a quad. Each of these can be dark or pale, depending on brewer preference. At least that's what I've gathered.

Triple 5 is a pale ale. It's a lovely light gold hue and a little hazy. A small white head formed in my glass but it disappeared quickly. Looking inside, I saw a stream of bubbles going up up up. (Sha oobie, shattered, shattered) I smelled honey along with a whole bunch of yeasty aromas – clove, banana, and bubblegum. Belgian ales are obviously cousins to the German hefeweizen. There was also an astringent kind of smell that I couldn't really place.

The flavor foundation was a medium dose of caramel sweetness. Atop that rode yeasty flavors of banana and bubblegum (but no clove that I could detect). There was a gentle overall fruitiness to it that didn't seem to be akin to a particular fruit and what my notes say is an "indeterminate grain" taste. I guess those 5 cereals ended up making some kind of grainy gestalt flavor. Swallowing the beer brought out some spicy hop bitterness which made things pretty dry. I could also taste the alcohol – this stuff is 9% - which contributed to a fairly strong astringency.

All of those grains gave the beer a medium body and a healthy dose of sweetness but there was enough fizz to cut through it and keep my tongue from being bogged down in a lightly treacly kind of thing. I liked the nebulous fruitiness and all of the banana and bubblegum flavors from the yeast. But the astringent taste was a little too much for me. I think it would have been more palatable had it not been as strong but, as it was, it just didn't sit well next to gentle phenols and laid back esters.

Junk food pairing: I had tacos for dinner after my sampling so I suggest pairing Triple 5 with a bag of taco flavor Doritos. But make sure they come in that retro bag that looks like 70's shag carpeting.

The Offut Truth: Sea Salt & Vinegar Potato Chips by Spudlove

Like a great many people, I have been feeling a wanderlust lately. There are certainly places I have a preference for visiting but basically anywhere will do now after a year+ of isolation, social distancing, and fear of viruses. Sadly, while I have done some traveling, it has not been nearly enough to compensate for its near total absence in 2020 nor have I gone very far from home. And so I've been traveling vicariously via the Internet.

Unlike a great many people, I am not a tropical climate kind of guy. While I wouldn't turn down a free trip to Hawaii or the Caribbean or any other similar place, they just aren't high on my list of places to visit. No offense if sunny, sandy beaches are your thing; they're just not mine. I want to go north.

I want to travel above the Arctic Circle and take a stroll with the midnight sun shining down upon me. I want to sail the Arctic Ocean and make port so I can watch polar bears and penguins in their natural habitats. Or maybe I could go south to Antarctica. I think it would be extraordinarily neat to walk where Shackleton and his crew walked. To wander the vast stretches of snow and ice wondering if there are Elder Things slumbering beneath me. Now that's a vacation.

No trips to icy wastelands are planned at the moment but I was daydreaming one day about meeting up with Stellan Skarsgård in the far reaches of Norway where he'd show me where Insomnia had been filmed and I could witness for myself how 24-hour daylight drives people mad. We'd have a few beers and talk about manly things as we men are wont to do.

As I was researching such a trip, I came across the world's most expensive potato chips. They were made for a Swedish brewery, St. Eriks, and for ~$56 you got a box of 5 potato chips. Yes, this was a publicity stunt but I guess some of the proceeds went to charity. The chips were made from rare Swedish potatoes grown on a steep, south-facing slope and harvested by hand. They were infused with even more boreal terroir by their seasonings which included mushrooms picked in remote northern areas of Sweden by virgins wearing cotton gloves and seaweed harvested near the Faroe Islands but only after skillfully avoiding the kraken. Oh, and a bit of the wort used to make their IPA too.

I hope that whoever paid good kronor for these chips enjoyed them and that charities made out like bandits. I'd eat one, if offered to me for free, but I certainly wouldn't pay for them as they're not salt and vinegar. Speaking of which…

Things had gotten a bit desperate on the salt and vinegar front recently when I found myself straying from the course and buying my favorite snack flavor that wasn't on sliced and fried potatoes. So far, my editorial Reinheitsgebot remains intact and there are no plans to give these goodies a full review. But there will be commentary of some sort, I suppose.

However, I finally came across a new brand of chips while wandering the snack aisle at Woodman's: Spudlove. Truth be known, I looked at the bag and read "Spudlore", which I thought was a really neat name. After looking closer, I realized my error.

Spudlove appears to be very new – only about a year old. The company is out in Oregon and is owned by the farmers who grow the potatoes. Their chips are organic, non-GMO, and gluten-free. That's the story you get from their website and the bag.

I found an article that confused me. It sounds like "Spudlove Snacks" is the brand and that the company is actually Threemile Canyon Farms. The article notes that Threemile Canyon Farms is owned by R.D. Offut Farms which is described as being a "giant". The marketing material leads you to believe that Spudlove is wholly owned by a small cadre of farmers who grow the potatoes which are sent to the Spudlove processing facility where they are turned into potato chips by a group of dedicated potato chip enthusiasts. So who really owns what?

When I think of the leviathans of agri-business, I think of Archer-Daniels-Midland and Neil Young's favorite, Monsanto. But R.D. Offut lays claim to the title of this country's largest potato grower. They have potato fields in several states including here in Wisconsin, although I do not know where those are. It is no surprise that the company has run afoul of environmentalists. I don't claim to know all of the details, but alarm bells ring when I read pieces entitled "Op-ed:The High Cost of Cheap McDonald’s Fries". Apparently the company wants to expand its potato growing into some tribal lands in northern Minnesota and environmental watchdogs claim this will befoul the pristine areas.

Do I know exactly what would happen if those potato fields get the green light? No. Do I trust a giant multi-billion dollar company to do the right thing? Nope.

In addition to being organic and whatnot, Spudlove's chips are thick-cut and you can tell by looking at them that they are a few extra nanometers thicker than your normal chips. The edges were all brown so they leave the skin on. Color was less uniform than I am accustomed to as some chips had a more golden brown color than others.

Oil was the most prominent smell when I stuck my face into the back and took a whiff. Spud was next followed by a little bit of vinegar at the end.

If you didn't notice the thicker slice, you would definitely notice the big crunch. They are not advertised as being kettle cooked but they are instead "slow cooked". Presumably this contributes to the crunchiness as does as the spud's thickness. I did wonder as I was eating these chips if there's a difference between the crunch you get with kettle cooked chips and the crunch you get from a thicker cut. Or does a thicker cut necessitate a slower (i.e. – kettle) cooking method so the chips don't burn?

The salt level was average while the vinegar level was somewhere in the middle. I've had chips with more tang but also ones with less. These weren't exactly in the middle and instead leaned towards the light side. When I chewed the chips and let that potato paste sit on my tongue, I tasted a really nice roasty potato flavor. But that was underneath a taste that was like Worcestershire sauce. The label has "organic flavor" on it but Spudlove claim their chips are vegan. Perhaps they used an anchovy-less version of the venerable condiment. Regardless, the flavor was unexpected.

Offering only a medium-light dosage of vinegar drops these chips down in the rankings. Although I very much like Worcestershire sauce, I wish that flavor wasn't present here. Let the vinegar take pride of place and make another chip where it can shine. There was nothing unpalatable about Spudlove's take on my favorite snack but they deviated from the true nature of a salt and vinegar chip.

I Heard the Men Saying Something (R.I.P. Robby Steinhardt)

Former Kansas violinist, singer, and songwriter Robby Steinhardt died a few days ago. I know him almost exclusively for his work with that band over the course of nearly two decades. His first stint lasted from 1973 to 1982. He rejoined in 1997 and left again in 2006. While I am not the biggest Kansas fan around, I have been listening to them in the wake of Steinhardt’s death.

The genesis of Kansas the band goes back to Kansas the state in 1970 where they started out as a garage/bar band in Topeka. The group saw members come and go until a permanent line-up was found. They gigged and were eventually discovered by Wally Gold, an associate of record producer Don Kirshner. Kirshner was impressed and he signed the band to his own label. They released their debut, Kansas, in 1974.

Their sound was a distinctly Midwestern mix of British symphonic progressive rock and the hard rock of the 70s. The dual guitar attack of Kerry Livgren & Rich Williams blended with singer Steve Walsh's keys and there was also the lead violin of Robby Steinhardt, who, in addition to strings, contributed many lead vocals to songs as well. The band’s intricate melodies and odd time signatures certainly put them in the same category as Genesis and Yes much of the time. You can hear their influences in, for example, the opening of "The Spider" from 1977’s Point of Know Return which bears more than a passing resemblance to the opening of "Tarkus" by Emerson, Lake and Palmer. And the "Father Padilla Meets the Perfect Gnat" section of "Magnum Opus", from 1976’s Leftoverture, will easily bring "Broadway Melody of 1974" by Genesis to mind.

Despite the obvious English influences, Kansas had a very different flavor. If mid-70s King Crimson was the Bartok of prog and Magma its Orff, then Kansas was the genre’s Aaron Copeland. Take songs such as "Cheyenne Anthem" and "People of the South Wind", both of which deal with Native American peoples. The Cheyenne are natives of the Great Plains, which includes the entirety of the state of Kansas, while the latter song is about the Kaw people after whom the band's home state was named. These songs could never have been done by any of the prog heavyweights across The Pond. I suspect any attempt to do so would have sounded like an academic exercise.

I also greatly appreciate how the band were keen to reflect their roots. Just look at their name, for starters. Then there are those songs concerning Native American peoples from that part of the country which I’ve already mentioned. But there’s also the cover for their debut album, Kansas. It features abolitionist John Brown who made his name in the Kansas Territory. The scene is from a mural by Kansas native John Steuart Curry who, in a twist, moved to Wisconsin. While in Madison he was an artist-in-residence at the University of Wisconsin and some of his work can be found at various locations on campus as well as at the Chazen Museum of Art.

More generally, I think they had a Midwestern vibe which also helped to make them distinct from their proggy cousins on the other side of the Atlantic. "Song for America" and "Death of Mother Nature Suite" come to mind as songs with more of a pan-Midwestern feel to them as opposed to a Great Plains or Kansas specific one.

No doubt someone who is more familiar with the band’s work could elaborate upon the Midwestern qualities of their music. But judge for yourself. Their albums provide a natural starting point to become familiar with their whirling combination of guitar, organ, and violin plus the great harmony vocals of Steve Walsh and Robby Steinhardt. But I would also recommend listening to them live.

Their show from Pittsburgh on Halloween 1976 is a classic. It took place a mere 10 days after the release of Leftoverture and it opens with "Carry On Wayward Son" which had not yet been played to death by classic rock radio. The gig features a good selection of songs from all of their albums up through Leftoverture and demonstrates well the energy they infused the songs with. At times it's like bassist Dave Hope and drummer Phil Ehart are just daring the rest of the band to keep up.

A concert with a more local bent is this one recorded on 4 July 1979 at Alpine Valley in East Troy, Wisconsin. Another good selection of tunes here including some from 1979's Monolith.

The Corona Diaries Vol. 22: Yet Another Mediocre Muskrat Photo

I knew that the housing market here in Madison was going crazy after hearing tales of buyers paying $20,000 over asking and waiving inspections. But I read this recently:

Thompson said one of the most extreme measures he’s seen a home buyer take recently was a case in Deforest where people paid close to $400,000 over the asking price without ever entering the home.

Contingencies are also being waved and buyers need to submit a bid within hours of touring a house for any hope of it being considered. I now feel very lucky that we got away with our home purchase being contingent simply upon the owner upgrading the electric service from 60 to 100 amps. We'd be laughed out of town for that kind of thing now. That and offering only about $12,000 over asking price.

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We have the HBO Max streaming service and, although I don't watch a whole lot of it, I am happy that it has Looney Toons Tunes. When the Frau first subscribed to the service and saw them listed, she immediately watched "One Froggy Evening". That's the one where the frog sings "Hello! Ma Baby". I hadn't seen it in ages. A classic.

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Recently, I was cruising around the east side and made a detour over to Roselawn Memorial Park in neighboring Monona. To the best of my knowledge there is no one of any renown buried there. Wikipedia tells me that the closest thing to a famous person that Monona has produced is professional golfer Andy North who grew up there.

What it does have, though, is the Roselawn Tower of Memories which is visible from the street.

It's something I've seen while cruising by in my car before and always said to myself, "I wonder what that tower thingy is…" So, I decided to finally go check it out.

It provides a nice contrast to the ugly malls across the street to the south. Across the street to the north, however, is the Edna Taylor Conservation Park and I hiked around it for the first time after checking out the tower.

Edna Taylor was a farmer who sold a bunch of her land to the city of Madison for use as a park. Mainly the wetlands that she preserved which give us an idea of what the Madison area was like before European settlers arrived and started turning the land into fields for farming and, later, a city. It ain't called the Four Lakes region for nothing. There is a series of Native America effigy mounds somewhere in the park but I didn't see any signs indicating where they were on my hike. But I did see a lot of lovely scenery and many animals.

I encountered maybe 8 or so other folks walking the trails and 2 or 3 of them were wearing headphones and just walked right past me without acknowledging a fellow hiker. It was odd and sad. Why shut the bird calls out and distract yourself by listening to something instead of being attentive to the lovely natural surroundings?

People are strange.

While all of the ponds were full of life, one was particularly full. Downy feathers were scattered along the path so I was unsurprised to see two families of Canada geese taking a leisurely swim. The goslings were almost all grown up.

A muskrat was busy swimming around doing whatever it is that muskrats do. I've only ever seen a pair once and wonder if Ms. Muskrat is simply at home or if I usually see bachelors.

One of these days I will get a decent muskrat photo but this was the best I could do that day.

For reasons I do not understand, the pond on the other side of trail had more birds and I could hear frogs hidden in the tall grass on its shore croaking whereas the pond with the muskrat was much quieter. My gaze caught some red winged blackbirds that were fighting so I turned to see who would prove victorious as well as to listen to the frogs. When I turned back, I discovered this bird doing a bit of wading.

I think this is a Great Blue Heron.

While I could have spent hours just hanging out by the ponds watching and listening to all of the animals going about their day, I moved onwards.

It was really pretty and reminded me that I needed to buy a book on identifying the trees of Wisconsin. The second I thought of that, I chuckled thinking about that Monty Python sketch "How to Recognise Different Types of Trees From Quite a Long Way Away".

No. 1 – The Larch.

At one point I was walking a section of the trail which was at the base of a hill. I looked up and saw a couple deer having breakfast.

They didn't seem to mind the human. Although they saw me, they kept on eating. Perhaps I was downwind of them. I watched them for a few minutes and, as I was doing so, a guy comes walking towards me. Wearing earphones. He never looked at me or up the hill at the deer. He just kept looking and walking straight ahead oblivious to everything. Very odd.

I kept wandering and eventually got lost. When I ran into signs for the Aldo Leopold Nature Center, which is next door, I at least knew I was on the west side of Edna Taylor. And, since I am writing this, I did not die out in the wilderness.

I've never hiked the 40 acres around the Leopold Center so that's on the list now.

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For this entry's bonus photo we have Grabby looking mighty fluffy and cute as she cleans herself.