Cauliflower Soup + Wisco Film Festival

After I got home from work, I did dishes and cleaned poo off of Dexter's bum. (Hey, it could be worse; it could be diaper duty for a kidbot. ;)) Then I ate a quick dinner of leftover cauliflower soup with parmesan shavings and a quick grind of black pepper. I also treated myself to a glass of red wine and a few almond and chocolate cookies from Trader Joe's. Yum!

At 7pm, I'll head back downtown to see Boy, a New Zealand film at the Orpheum's Stage Door Theatre. It's my first film of this year's Wisconsin Film Festival. I'm kinda excited about it because the director, Taika Waititi, was a regular director on Flight of the Conchords.

Fair Oaks Diner + Pizza Brutta

It's Sunday. I'm folding laundry and watching food porn (Food Channel!). This morning, J. and I were going to have bagels and/or cereal and coffee, but the unceremonious death of the coffee grinder convinced us to go out for breakfast.

After a little discussion, we decided on the Fair Oaks Diner on, as expected, Fair Oaks Avenue. He had a pancake laden with blueberries, and I had the daily special, Swedish pancakes filled with mascarpone cheese and topped with lingonberries and whipped cream. I wasn't sure what makes a pancake Swedish, but when they came out, they resembled French crepes.

We agreed that it hit the spot, despite my accidental launching of the metal cream dispenser onto the floor with an errant hand gesture. (That's what happens when you caffeinate me and then plunk me at a tiny table impossibly crowded with precariously secured condiments. Knowing my clutzy self as I do, moving it to the other side of the table as a preemptive strike did cross my mind. But I didn't take my own advice and ended up swabbing cream from the floor and the window...and my dining companion's chair. Sometimes breakfast with Erica is an adventure. ;)) Overall, it was pretty damn amazing for a rough-around-the-edges diner.

Rossoverde pizza and salsiccia pizza at Pizza Brutta

Last night, we had dinner at Pizza Brutta. On the left is the rossoverde pizza--arugula, prosciutto, fresh mozzarella, and parmesan--with tomato sauce. The salsiccia on the right has fennel sausage, carmelized onions, and smoked mozzarella. The thin, crisp crust was imbued with wood flavor from the oven. My only complaint was a little too thin in the center, making it a bit limp and soggy.

Afterward, we saw The Fighter at Market Square. Christian Bale's portrayal of a crack addict/washed up boxer was such a great performance that I can't believe he didn't get an Oscar for it. On the way home, we stopped for a drink at The Cardinal.

On the political front, I'm still working against the Walker budget. Last weekend, a group of us did a lit. drop in Lake Mills on behalf of Wisconsin Supreme Court candidate JoAnne Kloppenburg. The elections will take place on April 5, so we wanted to inform people about the election in general (i.e., prompt them to vote instead of being unaware of the election or feel like their vote doesn't matter) and about a candidate who's more independent than incumbent Prosser. With all of the legal battles going on about the legality of the Republicans' and Walker's actions, I think it's important to have a more independent  voice on the court.

Dammit, I love Julia Child!

It's utterly nasty (sleety and cold) outside, so I'm staying in tonight. So far, my night has consisted of breaking in my new winter boots (gotta wear them around the house a bit to see if I really like them before wearing them outside), doing my dishes, having chips and guacamole and fake chicken nuggets with barbeque sauce for dinner, and watching the Food Channel. When I'm done eating, I'll take a hot bath and then do some yoga. (My resolution this year was to do yoga a bit each day; like most people, I have fallen off the resolution wagon on more than one occasion already, but I'm trying to be compassionate with myself.) This post will consist of a few random things that have been jostling around in my brain.

A few weeks ago, I caught a snippet of Julia Child's old show, and she cracks me up. Brandishing a rubber mallet and a big-ass cleaver, she was "whacking up"--her words, not mine--a turkey carcass.She didn't once admonish us about food safety or wash her hands like an OCD-addled person, and she wielded massive knife after massive knife with her pale, mauve-painted finger. It was great.

One morning about a month ago, I watched a poor little grrl get drenched by a passing car as we stood at the bus stop. Her already somewhat grumpy morning face crumpled, and she looked like a surly Anne Hathaway. I felt sorry for her. Her navy blue coat and dark hair were completely spattered with muddy water. Not a good way to start the day.

Fab Abs Yoga in June

Hey, punks. I wanted to give you a heads-up that I'll be teaching a yoga class centering on abs starting in June. 

details:

• M: 6-7pm
• runs: 6/20-8/1 with no class on 7/4 (6 meetings)
• cost: $54.50
• where: Union South

class description:
Here is a powerful yoga set designed to deliver a taut belly and a strong core. Research has shown that excess abdominal fat leads to inflammation-related ailments like heart disease and diabetes. This dynamic class will burn fat with low-impact cardio, strengthen core muscles, and boost your metabolism.

to register:  
Mini Courses has all the registration info.

Protests

I just caught the last pink vestiges of the sunset as I drove home from the gym. Hooray for spring's arrival!

This was a protest soon after Walker's initial budget relief bill was announced. Just a few "slobs" taking time over lunch to exercise our rights as citizens and engage in our democracy.

Inside the Capitol, although I can't recall which day

On a more serious note, for the past month Wisconsinites have been engrossed in Governor Scott Walker’s budget proposals. Some of you may think that this is solely a Cheesehead fight, but it extends beyond our borders. Walker's actions are part of a nationwide, Tea Party-orchestrated effort to dismantle unions and thereby erode the Democratic Party. Scott Fitzgerald even admitted as much after the Republicans' underhanded--and perhaps illegal--passage of the bills this past week. So much for their contention that it was about balancing the budget.

Not only that. At heart, this is about our nation's extreme disparities in wealth. The Koch brothers are a case in point. They pledged $43,000 to Walker's gubernatorial campaign and donate generously to other conservative causes across the country. These two men recently tied for #18 on Forbes' Billionaires List. And what sort of work have they done to earn this wealth? Nada. They inherited it. The Kochs and others like them are attempting to de-fund valuable parts of our society--collective bargaining, education, environmental protections, and reproductive rights, to name a few--while enhancing their own wealth in the process. When Michael Moore spoke in Madison a few weeks ago, he gave us a chilling statistic to contemplate: Today, 400 Americans have more wealth than one-half of all Americans combined.

Most recently, on March 12, roughly 100,000 of us gathered to hear Jim Hightower, Susan Sarandon, Jesse Jackson, Tony Shalhoub, and many others speak against Walker's plans. Fifty-three tractors encircled the Capitol in the Farmer Labor Tractorade to show solidarity for the protest. This largest protest yet--trumping even Madison's anti-Vietnam protests--was inspiring and moving.

 March 5: Michael Moore eloquently speaks about workers' rights and the uneven distribution of wealth

But the best part of this whole movement for me is seeing so many people of different backgrounds united in a common cause. It's not just those crazy Madison hippies or just college students having a party (like Senator Grothman contended). Hell, I stood behind a guy wearing a Pardeeville Curling Club jacket at one protest. I might be wrong, but I'm guessing that he and I disagree on many issues. Nonetheless, we've joined together for the good of the larger cause. It's been awhile since the nation has witnessed a truly populist movement without it being divided by other "social" issues (e.g., abortion or gay marriage). And, in general, it's heartening to see people break out of their apathy.

February 26: Bradley Whitford (in the red jacket with the upraised arm) braves the snow and cold to speak to the crowd

Now we must invest our energies in recall efforts and Kloppenburg's campaign for the Wisconsin Supreme Court. Walker and the Republicans want us to forget, but we must persevere. There's just too much at stake.

Cooking Up a Storm

I was downloading some photos and realized I hadn't shared some of the dishes I'd made this winter, so here goes.
Cranberry, Honey, and Ginger Biscotti
I made this biscotti for the Partners in Giving (our workplace charitable giving campaign) silent auction and bake sale. Mine contained crystallized ginger, cranberries, and honey, but there are tons of variations on this thrice-baked Italian cookie. 

Aren't they pretty?

When it comes to food, I generally like to keep it simple. (It makes up for other aspects of life that are overly complicated. :)) I will probably never concoct an elaborate old-school French meal, and baking is generally too precise and fussy for me. In that spirit, I use a fusion of basic biscotti recipes and alter it according to my whim:

2 c. flour (For baking, I usually use whole wheat pastry flour instead of bleached white flour. It's not as heavy and drying as regular whole wheat flour, but adds more nutrition than the white.)
1 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt
1 c. sugar
2-3 eggs (It calls for 2 eggs and 1 egg white, but unless it's absolutely necessary, I don't separate eggs. I hate having leftover egg components because they usually go bad before I can use them.)
1 c. sugar (I use brown, rather than white.)
generous swirl of honey
~ 1 c. Craisins
~ 1 c. finely chopped crystallized ginger

Preheat oven to 350. Mix dry ingredients and wet ingredients separately, and then combine together. Mix until smooth, then transfer dough to a baking sheet, and shape into 2 logs, measuring about 12 inches long and 4 inches wide. Bake 25-30 mins. Reduce the oven temperature to 325. Cut the logs into 3/4-inch slices, turn the slices cut side down, and bake for 10 mins. Flip the slices and bake for 10 more mins. The result should be a gloriously crispy, somewhat sweet treat perfect for dunking into your cappuccino.

Spinach, Mushroom, and Feta Pizza with Phyllo Crust
I made this to use up the large box of phyllo dough in my freezer, although some of it still resides in the frozen depths. (It's from the half-successful Nigella's chicken pot pie experiment.) As is generally the case if you have a crust consisting of flaky phyllo lathered with butter, it was decadently yummy. The phyllo was a little destroyed from being defrosted and refrozen too many times, so I layered strips of it in alternating directions, brushing each layer with melted butter, until I had a thick crust. Then I topped it with sliced cremini mushrooms and spinach. I used a recipe from Epicurious.

Spaghetti Carbonara
Jason took the culinary helm on this effort, and I was the kitchen helper. I'd never had this before, but I was blown away by its fantastic flavor. I think this recipe from Amateur Gourmet was the one we used.

Spaghetti carbonara

Sweet Potato Soup with Garlic Chicken Sausage
Here, leftover curried sweet potatoes that I wasn't terribly impressed with in the beginning were transformed into a lovely soup. A spin with the stick blender and the addition of some garlic chicken sausage from Trader Joe's made all the difference.

Sweet potato soup with garlic chicken sausage and a dollop of yogurt

Red Lentil Dal
I've made this dal, originally from Cooking Light, several times now, and it's always satisfying.

The last of the red lentil dal

Ribollita

Ribollita

Ribollita, meaning "reboiled," is a hearty Tuscan stew made with white beans, tomatoes, greens, other veggies, and stale bread (to thicken the soup). The recipe from 101 Cookbooks calls for cavolo nero, which is sometimes labeled lacinato kale, Tuscan kale, or dinosaur kale. Whatever you call it, it's a particular favorite of mine. It has deeply green, curly, striking leaves, and its flavor is more robust than the regular kale favored in southern cooking. Despite that, I used mustard greens because I wanted to use them up. The black olives may seem like an odd touch, but try it. I promise you'll be pleasantly surprised. The salty, briny olives work really well against the buttery cannellini and creaminess of the bread. And sometimes, I feel like the greens overpower the dish, but not so in this case.

While the ribollita cooked, I indulged in smoked gouda on Triscuits
with black olives...and a glass of red wine.

Oops!

My apologies for my moment of idiocy in the last blog entry. I have Walt Whitman instead of T.S. Eliot saying April is the cruelest month. For some reason, I had it in my brain that that line was from Leaves of Grass, but it's actually from The Waste Land. Man, Erica. Brush up on your poetry before you start spewing in your blog. I am a boob.

Mineral Point

Walt Whitman was wrong: April is not the cruelest month. January is, or it certainly feels like it is. And February's not much better. To escape the winter doldrums, Jason and I spent a few days at the Brewery Creek Inn in Mineral Point the weekend of January 14-16. The inn is a lovely three-story limestone structure built in 1854 as a warehouse. While a warehouse doesn't sound very distinctive, it was a point of civic pride because it represented early statehood prosperity. Over the years, it was used as a cold storage facility, an insulation factory, and a local veterinarian's stable. By the 1970s, the building was in disrepair: The roof and third-floor timbers had rotted away, the beams had collapsed, and the north wall had begun to crumble. When the owners undertook renovations in July 1997, the building lacked heating, plumbing, wiring, interior walls or stairways, doors, and windows. And it had a dirt floor. Yet, they opened in June of the next year, which, to my non-construction-oriented mind, is a feat of great proportions.

The innkeeper forewarned us that our room (#7) was the smallest, but it was perfectly comfortable. The bathroom--with its ceramic tiles, wainscoting, and heavenly whirlpool--was probably my favorite part of the whole place. I was less keen on the breakfast, which was billed as "continental plus." I'm not sure where the "plus" part came in. To me, it was straight-up continental: boxed cereals, store-bought sourdough for toast with butter or jam, yogurt, juice, coffee, hard-boiled eggs, and syrupy-sweet store-bought pastries.

This is supposed to be me faking falling into the mine shaft, but it doesn't really look like that.

After slogging through Madison's Friday evening traffic (made worse by the snowy conditions), we finally made it out of the city. At the inn, we settled in and then ate dinner at the inn's restaurant. I had a gigantor slab of salmon with ginger sauce and sesame seeds. It was pretty good, and it definitely surpassed Jason's cod. For it, they drizzled the gingery sauce over the batterfried fish, leaving a hunk of bland cod in a soggy shell. We also sampled the beer, which is brewed on site. I liked the porter, but the IPA was disappointing for Jason. The description misled in that it said the hops and malt were balanced. Alas, the malt was overbearing, whereas the hops barely made an appearance. (Personally, I liked the IPA, but that's because I despise hoppy beer.) Afterward, we walked around the hilly town.

On Saturday, we hiked around the old Merry Christmas Mine Hill. In the 1830s, copper and tin miners from Cornwall, England fled poverty and hunger to emigrate to Mineral Point, which was experiencing a lead boom. The boom lasted from 1827 to 1849--when California's Gold Rush lured many of the miners away. In the second half of the 19th century, zinc mining predominated.

View of Mineral Point from the mining hill

After hiking, we took refuge from the cold in a local bar. For lunch, I had chicken fingers with barbecue sauce (exotic, I know) and Jason tried the local specialty, the pasty. The Cornish traditional version is a baked half-moon pastry filled with beef, potatoes, onions, and rutabagas or turnips. I tried a bite and found it rather bland and heavy, but I guess they were meant to fill up miners who'd been doing backbreaking labor all day.

According to legend, pasties were originally made for Cornish tin miners who were unable to come to the surface for lunch. To eat it, they would grip the crimped edge to not soil the rest with the dirt (laced with the arsenic often found with tin) that completely covered their bodies. The dirty remainder was then offered to placate the knockers, or spirits thought to inhabit the mine and endanger miners.

Close-up of pasty contents

After lunch, we grabbed coffee at a local bookstore and then headed back to the inn for a nap. That evening, we went to see Feed the Fish at the Mineral Point Opera House. Feed the Fish is a sweet indie film about a children's book writer who tries to overcome his writer's block by accompanying his friend on a trip to northern Wisconsin. Tony Shalhoub, of Monk and Big Night fame--and who's also a Green Bay native--plays the curmudgeonly local sheriff, and Barry Corbin (Maurice on Northern Exposure) plays his sage father. Katie Aselton and Ross Partridge play the romantic leads.

It was at last year's Wisconsin Film Festival in Madison and has been touring the state. I couldn't get tickets then because it was very popular, so I was excited to finally see it. (Note: Netflix won't purchase it until a certain number of people add it to their queues, so take a moment to add it.) Plus, it was a treat to see a film  set and filmed in Wisconsin, and one of the producers answered questions afterward.

The next day, we headed home and extended our relaxing weekend by having brunch at La Brioche and seeing the Coen Brothers' True Grit. I was pleasantly surprised, especially by newcomer Hailee Steinfeld's performance.  

Baby's Got Her Blue Jeans On

I still listen to old-school radio in my car. I don't have satellite radio, I rarely listen to music on my iPod or iPhone (too much fussing with playlists and such, especially in high mitten season) in the car, and a tape deck in all of its 1982 glory stands where a CD player should rightfully reside. While tooling around town, I shuttle back and forth between about four stations, but sometimes the dial lands on a vintage country song.

These songs totally evoke my past. When I was little, my dad was a bartender, so you'd find me hanging out at Dan's Bar. (Our apartment was right up the street.) I'd beg for quarters so I could play tunes on the jukebox, and sometimes, I even danced in front of the jukebox, which is kinda hilarious. As research, I looked up a few of these songs, and I've included a selection below for your listening and viewing pleasure.

I remember I loved to wash glasses in the Bar Maid (a contraption that, to a kid, looks like it's constructed of massive pipe cleaners) behind the bar, even though I had to use all of my concentration to hold onto the swirling, slippery glasses with my small hands. I also cleared beer bottles from the tables and entered sales into the cash register--with ample help from my dad--when business was slow. I know that sounds wacky, but when you're little, being allowed to help out fills you with pride.

• Harper Valley P.T.A. by Jeannie C. Riley
• Baby's Got Her Blue Jeans On by Mel McDaniel
• Keep Your Hands to Yourself by Georgia Satellites
• Fishin' in the Dark by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
• Tight Fittin' Jeans by Conway Twitty
• Luckenbach, Texas by Waylon Jennings (I believe I heard this first on my Urban Chipmunk album. Its title was a parody of Urban Cowboy, which had come out a year earlier. And it featured country singers with...you guessed it....the Chipmunks.)
• Swingin' by John Anderson

SantaLand Diaries

On December 11, we braved the snowstorm to see a stage adaptation of David Sedaris' SantaLand Diaries, which details Sedaris' stint as an elf at Macy's SantaLand. It was an o.k. performance. Just o.k. It made me laugh, and I was thrilled to support local theater. But I'm so accustomed to Sedaris' delivery from This American Life that nothing else measures up. His cadence and tone are so distinctive. They're snarky, yet deadpan; sarcastic, yet insightful. 

My favorite part is the scene where a child is throwing a tantrum at SantaLand. His mother informs him that if he doesn't behave, Santa will bring him coal for Christmas. The child's tantrum continues, unabated, and the mother asks Crumpet (Sedaris' elf alter ego) to support her in her coal argument. But Crumpet has had enough. He tells the child that Santa no longer traffics in coal. Instead, St. Nick is going to invade the child's home and strip it of all worldly possessions. Crumpet tells him: He'll take your TV and all other major appliances. He'll steal your furniture and your food. You'll be left shivering in an empty, cold house all alone.

Because of the storm, everyone in our party headed home after the play ended. Jason and I weren't ready for bed, though, so--after I'd made my requisite annual snow angel--we walked along the lake. The lake was cloaked in fog, and it, along with the icy variations on gray and white, made me feel like I was caught in a Victorian novel.

We looped around and somehow ended up at the Harmony's doorstep. (How'd that happen? :)) Our faces and clothes were crusted with snow, so upon entering, we After I'd repaired my running mascara a bit with some napkins from the bar, we settled in for a drink. We had the bar nearly to ourselves, excepting 5 or 6 people who lived within walking distance of the joint. Because it was so empty, we got to chat with the bartender about travel and a whole host of other things. We left after a few because everyone else had filtered out, and we didn't want to keep the bartender there just for us.

After we got home, we ordered pizza and watched The Man Who Came to Dinner (1942 with Ann Sheridan, Bette Davis, Monty Woolley, Jimmy Durante) until we finally dozed off.

Sin Cities

The first weekend in December, I visited friends in Minneapolis. I took the Amtrak train Friday evening, and while a view of the landscape was eclipsed by the dark, some of the cities were quite pretty. Red Wing, with its stone buildings lit by a combination of slow-falling snow and glowing street lights, was particularly stunning. I rolled into St. Paul at about 10:30pm, so after making our way back from the station through the snow, we chatted a bit and then went to bed.

On Saturday, we went to a craft fair at the Midtown Global Market and ate massive falafel sandwiches at Holy Land. The sandwiches were seriously large, containing about 5 or 6 balls of falafel, a generous amount of well-executed hummus, and shredded romaine. I adored the contrast between the spiced, crispy falafel, the fresh romaine, and the creamy hummus. Next time you're in the Sin Cities, I highly recommend trying it. Not only does Holy Land have amazing food, but a friend who lives there told me that they also contribute to their community in various ways. For instance, they reclaimed an entire city block that was in bad repair.

Check out the size of that falafel sandwich. And that was after I'd attacked it a bit. The expression on the guy in the background who was inadvertently included in our photo op. is classic.

Later, we met for dinner at Pad Thai on Grand Avenue. I had green curry rice noodles with veggies and fresh tofu. Mara had green curry with fresh tofu. Em had green curry with chicken. Naomi had the eponymous pad thai, but laced with sriracha and more vegetables than normal. Sriracha transforms pad thai from a bland, dowdy noodle dish into something fabulous. Who knew?

At dinner, somehow the conversation meandered onto the hideous Twilight series. Em brought up the very good point that it would seem rather improbable that Bella could be pregnant in the next movie, being that she's relying on what we termed "undead semen." This made us descend into crazy laughter. Needless to say, a few glasses of wine were consumed at dinner.

Also, at the end of the evening, I had an exchange with an older gentleman who was donning his galoshes at the door. (I was waiting for people to return from the bathroom.) He said his wife makes fun of him for wearing them, but that they work really well in Minneapolis. So to those of you--and you know who you are--who are embarrassed to wear your galoshes, you should just buck up and don them proudly.

Later that evening, we went to a holiday party at Darren's house. Funky ice luminaries lined the walkway, but I didn't capture a photo because it was too cold to tarry outside. Inside, we were met with a pretty Christmas tree decorated in silver and blue and a yummy buffet table graced with various delectable items. Among them were tortilla pinwheels containing cream cheese, pickles, and lord-knows-what-else; pretzel rods; and corn chips with a devilishly yummy amalgam of Velveeta, turkey, and salsa. I didn't need to know how delicious that latter one is. Now I must plan a trip to the grocery store to search out this bizarre-o "food product," if only to verify that it is segregated from the regular dairy products and does not need to be refrigerated. Someone at the party gave me this little tidbit, and I must confirm it. Someone else said they are no longer allowed to even employ the word cheese, even when paired with the word product, on the package. Fascinating. Simply fascinating.

And I can't allow the miniature kale Christmas tree centerpiece constructed by Mister Mike (at Darren's bidding) to go unnoticed. The boughs were kale leaves affixed to a styrofoam base. Cherry tomato "ornaments" were staked onto it with toothpicks. It was Mikey at his Martha Stewart best.

The highlight of Sunday was visiting the Como Conservancy with Mara and Rachel and then having another Thanksgiving dinner at Naomi's house. Thanks to Naomi for a marvelous dinner! I might add homemade creamed corn with leeks to my Turkey Day menu. It was heavenly.

And the next day, I boarded the train early to head back home.