Happened So Fast

In progress, even if you don't believe in progress.

We resumed our cheese curd experiment, this time using a stainless pot on the grill's side burner.  That deep fryer was b.s., Food Diary.

We also grilled corn, used up more (nyganous) tomatoes, and enjoyed another pickle variation.

Christian was there.

And Sarah.

The Windzor 5 Country & Western band:

We took the niece on a Target Field tour...

At Sea Salt...

It was only a change of plan

Dear Food Diary,

Do you need any tomatoes?  Some asshole put six plants in my backyard this spring and, looking out my window now, I can see that tomato production has gotten somewhat out of hand.  So I made pizza from scratch Saturday, sauce included, but that only took about 10 tomatoes.  I may have to start canning, which I hate to do.

On the subject of of things I hate to do:  Remember when I ran that toad over with the lawnmower?  The toad turned out to be okay -- no visible signs of damage, though I ruined his grassy habitat and think I may have given him a post traumatic stress disorder.  Sarah and I felt bad about that, so we brewed a beer ("Hoppy Toad") in his honor.

After a couple weeks bottled (and through the magic of sorcery), the beer is now carbonated and ready to drink.  I took a sample outside to share with the toad, but he never came around.  I even used his favorite glass. 

I planned to leave the glass out there for the toad to find overnight, but the beer must have evaporated or something, 'cause it was gone by the time I went inside.

While I was outside I checked out some of our crops.

Hops crops.

A few of our (many) remaining tomatoes.

For supper we had garden stuff: roasted beets, refrigerator pickles (cucumbers, dill, onions -- plus some vinegar, honey, and seeds), grilled eggplant, steamed broccoli and green beans, and chicken wings.  The chicken wasn't from the backyard, though I'm sure you'll catch that thing yet.

...time warp again.

Dear Food Diary,


Here's (some of) our garden a month ago.  It looks pretty different now.  The tomato plants are taller and more tomato-covered; the peas have produced pea pods and died.  There are actual sprouts on the brussels sprouts.  The cauliflower is long eaten, while the broccoli continues to send up new shoots after we removed the head.


Anyway, here's what it was like in a simpler time:

Brussels sprouts:

Dill and bunching onions:

This was stolen/eaten by a squirrel:

We've eaten a bunch of that already, Food Diary.  Sorry I didn't tell you about it before.  We made a sesame/soy broccoli side dish... you wouldn't have liked it.  We made some pickles with mini cucumbers, dill, and onions.  Uh, we had roasted beets tonight.  We've had raspberries, blueberries, cherries, and a couple strawberries we managed to wrestle away from the chipmunks that moved into the old rabbit/woodchuck apartment under the shed.


Anyway, none of that is the kind of stuff you'd care about.  Sorry I don't have any more pictures of cake.

It's So Intense

The day after our 3rd of July feast, I spent most of the morning in the garden tending our beans, beets, blueberries, broccoli, brussels sprouts, carrots, cauliflower, cucumbers, dill, eggplant, hops, melons, onions, pears, peas, peppers, radishes, raspberries, squash, strawberries, etc.  Plus I had to mow.  That kind of work requires a sustainful, nourishing breakfast.

While I was mowing, I noticed something move in a patch of grass I'd just passed over.  This guy was there, looking put out at the loss of his tall-grass habitat.

Sarah and I were so impressed by the nubbly fellow's survival skills (i.e. ducking and looking pissed) that we brewed up a beer in his honor that night: Hoppy Toad.

It's full of (Cascade & Centennial) hops, honey, (biscuit) malt, oats, and survival instinct.  Here it is in secondary fermentation, with whole Cascade hops and Citra pellets:

We just bottled it yesterday -- so it should be drinkable shortly.  When it is I'll share it with you, Food Diary.  And if I can find the toad again, I'll share some with him.

Your pal,
Matt

Say, can you see?

Dear Food Diary,

Why yes, those are home-fried cheese curds and french fries.

Fire In the Street

Dear Food Diary,


Congratulations!  Your ill-conceived and comically dangerous experiments have succeeded -- you've traveled back in time 19 days.  And with only minor damage to the very fabric of reality!  Well done.


Tonight, Christian and I went to see The New Pornographers at First Avenue.  It was the full eight-piece lineup (supplemented by a multi-instrumentalist dude with the wickedest cello-face I've ever seen.  He's like the Jonny Lang of classical string instruments).


I saw them open (as a six-piece) for Belle & Sebastian in 2006 and wasn't especially impressed as they chugged, all business, through songs off of Twin Cinema.  This time around I was struck by the band's professionalism and attention to detail.  With the exception of Dan, who only occasionally emerged from backstage just long enough to give an animated mutter through one of his tunes and down a beer, the group displayed both a workmanlike "we keep our heads down and plow through" approach to performing and a new (to me, at least) flair for the dramatic.  They delivered the most minor instrumental details from their two more recent albums and even managed roll out a intensity/emotionally-textured setlist.  Here are some pictures of them doing that.

  
After the show, we played some midnight tennis and went to the traditional place for a very early breakfast.

 "You know you've come from someplace filthy when you go into a Flameburger bathroom to wash your hands."

I can smell a pig from a mile away.

Madison does have at least one other point of interest (oh right -- aside from the two lakes, UW, and all the hippies/culture):  The finest pork shoulder sandwich I've ever eaten.

Yes, those are sugar-fried biscuits as my (2nd) side.  Four of them.  

How good is this plate?  So good I diverted a business trip to Chicago (with my boss) to stop at Smokey Jon's.  So good that Sarah and I drove there, on this particular day, during a tornado warning.  

It's good. 

s'good,

Matt

Spotted Cow

So what else do they have in Madison, aside from cows, statues of cows, and affectionate/thieving animals?  Not much, so we took a day trip to New Glarus to visit their Swissish atmosphere and ultra-fancy new brewery. 


The "top of the hill" New Glarus brewery was just finished a year ago, and it's obvious they put a ton of thought into it.  Firstly, it's kinda beautiful.  It's also a study in efficiency:  enormous copper brew kettles get their own shrine, while a dozen fermentation tanks are tucked away in an adjacent, secured, room.  Across from fermentation is a yeast-culture room, where they collect and reculture their yeasts.  Just down the hall there are brite tanks and, finally, an enormous Skynet bottler.  Every cord and cable in the building is tucked safely away amongst the rafters, and warmly decorated, cavernous, production rooms allow for expansion and easy cleaning.


Actually, it's more than just kinda beautiful.  

New Glarus has the capacity to brew a lot of beer.  A lot of pretty excellent beer, actually.  So why haven't you heard of it, Food Diary?  Because its entire capacity (100,000 barrels per year -- 3.1 million gallons) is consumed in meeting the demand from Wisconsinites.  3.1 million gallons.  And that's besides all the Miller they make, drink, throw up, and drink in that state.

Wisconsin is like a black hole of beer; the sheer volume of beer created/consumed in the state creates a kind of drunk gravity so strong that no beer can escape.

We were lucky to get out with those commemorative glasses.  

Seein' things that I may never see again.

So what do they have in Madison, aside from cows?


Statues of cows.

Odes to badger motherhood.

Odes to carnival food, pot-bellies, or possibly French imperialism.

At the Henry Vilas Zoo, they've got super-chill grizzly bears.

"Sup?"

Confused, displaced Antarctic penguins

Tiny prairie-dog pups

Banana-stealing chipmunks (this one was under our picnic table)

Animal love.

All this action was only half of one day in old MadTown, Food Diary.  There's more to tell, but I'll let you digest that (as it were) for now.