Clean Your Plate. #CFFC

I’m way behind on my blog and wanted to do a quick little blurb so you all know I’m alive and kicking.  Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge (#CFFC) this week is about our Sense of Taste so I figured it was the perfect venue for something short and sweet (see what I did there?  Now that’s talent.)  Grab a quick couple of food photos, pop them in my blog and viola.

Do you have any idea how many food photos I have?  Neither did I.  Holy cheese on a cracker.  Apparently I like to eat.  And before I like to eat, I like to photograph it.  And then eat some.  And then photograph it again.  And then photograph the empty plate.  No starving children in China at my house, that’s for sure.

It took me forever to whittle down my food photo collection to a few that are actually in focus and have some sort of visual aesthetic.  So not only do I take a lot of pictures of my food, I am so excited to eat it I can’t seem to take a decent photo. Even so, I still had over 20 photos to consider.  Man, do I like food or what?

I finally decided to go with tasty regional treats – food items that fairly scream “WISCONSIN!”

First up:  Booyah.  And not the “BOO-YAH!” yelled as an exclamation.  Booyah as in Chicken Soup That We Don’t Call Chicken Soup Because It’s Really Called Booyah.

Most booyah is made with chicken, potatoes, carrots, and cabbage, along with other random vegetables like onions, green beans, celery, etc. and then maybe some beef stock or something – hard to say seeing as most recipes are family secrets handed down from generation to generation.  It all gets chucked in a ginormous iron kettle and cooked outside over an open fire, and served Burn The Top Of Your Mouth Off Lava Hot.

Summer church picnics, local festivals and family gatherings are where you will find booyah, often sold as a fund-raiser so bring your empty plastic ice cream buckets and be sure to buy some to take home.  It’s best eaten with a cold beer in one hand and a handful of saltine crackers in the other and perhaps a piece of homemade bread on the side slathered with real butter.  Follow that with some Belgian pie or raspberry torte and a hot cup of joe.  Or another beer.

Booyah! Served at the Belgian Heritage Center in Namur, WI.

Speaking of beer…..that just happens to be my next photo.

Yeah, yeah – Wisconsin cliché’ but at least I didn’t photograph it with a brat (“brat” – pronounced “braht” -meaning delicious regional sausage that you set on fire with your grill while praying you don’t burn down the neighborhood and then eat it’s charred goodness on a bun with onions, mustard, ketchup and sometimes sauerkraut depending on your ethnicity).  But only because I didn’t have a photo of one.  I must eat all my brats before I think to photograph them.  This also happens a lot with cake.

Wisconsin is the land of sky blue waters and a LOT of beer, but New Glarus Spotted Cow is the best beer in all the land.  IN ALL THE LAND I TELL YOU.  Do not argue with me on this, beer heathen.

It’s also only available in Wisconsin, so if you want it, you gotta come here to get it.  It will be worth the trip.  I promise.

Ice cold Spotted Cow on a hot sunny beach.

And for my final entry:  Friday Night Perch Fry.  Because A) we are as regionally Catholic as they come and B) the Great Lakes and Green Bay have a strong commercial fishing industry, with much of the catch being yellow perch.  Which are delicious deep-fried in batter and bathed in tubs of tartar sauce so you don’t actually know you are eating fish because fish are gross.  I do like perch except when they get ‘fishy’ and you never know if you are going to get fishy perch so I usually just get fried cod instead or better yet a steak.  In fact I think my photo is actually cod, not perch.  But who cares.  My point is that we eat a lot of fish on Friday’s, and perch is super popular and most people eat it except me because I’m a weirdo.  And fish are gross.

Friday night fish fry at Gibraltar Grill in Door County, WI

And that’s a wrap, people.  Oh wait – here’s a collage of cake just because you can never have enough cake.  The two people in the one photo are my parents.  You can tell the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.  Nobody in our family will get kidnapped.

Caketastically yours,

Sue

The more you weigh, the harder you are to kidnap! Stay safe! Eat cake!

PS.  My apologies on my short blurb getting sorta long, so I guess I should have explained that I meant “short” by Sue Standards.  Cuz ya know, I always gotta write a book.

PPSS.  Don’t forget to check out the other entries at Cee’s Photography!

 

Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: The Number One. Oh Yeah, And I’m BAAAAAACK.

I’m back…sort of. I have a very full agenda yet for the month of June – a mini family reunion, a wedding shower, Father’s Day, a funeral, a wedding, and the MRC Bike Ride. But, I miss my blog family and I miss entertaining my tiny masses with weird and funny stories.

I decided the best way to come back is to participate in Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge, and let my photos do the talking. Because, you know, I never have anything to say.

One picture of me holding One bottle of Sam Adams while on my work trip to Boston.

Sam Adams is a LIE!

My last day I was able to take part of the Freedom Trail tour, and learned from the tour guide that Samuel Adams probably never let anyone call him “Sam” (That’s Mr. Adams to you!), wasn’t likely a big beer drinker, and apparently ran his father’s brewery into the ground. I found that a delightful twist of ironic history.

One patient husband, waiting for his wife to come off the delicious drugs ala colonoscopy. I have no idea why I took his picture.

My wife is wasted.

One Grandma Conard white iris.

Good morning, Grandma!

Last year, my Cuz-in-Law kindly sent me a package of day lilly and iris bulbs, some of which were descended from irises originally in my grandparents garden (whites and purples). Last spring I planted them down by the pond because we weren’t ready to put anything by the house yet, so we transplanted them this spring next to the house. I didn’t think any of them would even bloom this year so these were a happy surprise.

When my grandmother was a young woman, she became very ill and lost all the pigment in her skin and color in her hair from the trauma. Her pale skin was soft and delicate, very much like the petal of an iris. Despite her complexion, my grandmother was a big, beautiful, strong woman who loved to travel and swim and garden and taught me how to fish with a bamboo fishing pole and she squashed all the spiders in the cottage. Yeah. She was badass. Ironically, if she read that, she would yell at me for swearing.

One very wet bike after one very wet bike ride called the Birky Challenge 67, a ride honoring a fallen police officer whose badge number was 67.

At least it’s clean now.

We were signed up to do the 67 miles, but it was pouring rain that morning so we wussed out and only did 40. That was the longest, wettest, windiest, hilliest 40 miles ever created in the entire history of mankind. In the entire history of the world. The universe, even. At one point, my riding partner asked me “Why didn’t we just do 20?” and I said, “Apparently because we are stupid.”

One pissed off anti-social turtle who just wants to be left alone so she can lay her eggs and read a trashy novel on the beach. This is in no way a reference to me or my current work load because I have a brilliant sun-shiney attitude and love love love the busy season at work.

LOOK AWAY!

One memorial tree planting of one dwarf blue spruce, in honor of my sister in law Jen who passes away in March, 2014 (the weekend we moved).

It’s the Jen-Tree

We were unable to plant anything last summer, so this was a bit over due. A tough, hardy tree that should adapt well to wherever it’s planted, with soft, kind needles that will offer sanctuary to birds and critters – very much like our Jen.

For more Fun Fotos, all centered on the theme of “One”, head on over to Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge

Freakishly Busy Sue

Sue The Explorer With Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Earth or Harvest

Welcome to the third topic in the Elements/Seasons series with Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge.  This week we have Earth/Harvest.

In Cee’s description, she mentions that earth people tend to be well grounded, nurturing, earth-mothers.  That they like to bring others together and make good mediators and reliable friends, and that they enjoy both preparing food and eating.  The color for earth is yellow.

Hmmmm.  Well, I seem to fit the description on some points, not on others.  I am definitely “earthy” but not necessarily ‘earth mothery-ish”.  I think I make a good mediator but not always a reliable friend (I forget birthdays, major surgeries, weddings – you know- minor details), and I love eating, but my food preparation skills involve being the only one in the house that can flip an egg without breaking the yolk, but only if I happen to remember that I am cooking and don’t wander off after something shiny.  Yellow is totally my favorite color though, so I should get some earthy points for that.

I have only a few photos today, and to be honest, most of them stink from a “great shot” standpoint.  But as usual, they all have a story.  That said, here are my entries for this week.

First off – the dirt pile that lived in the backyard of our new house up until a month ago.  It looks freakishly similar to a pile of Dino Doo-Doo.

If you didn’t get the Jurassic Park reference on that last paragraph, that’s ok.  I won’t call the Nerd Police, and I will allow you to continue reading my blog.  Heathen.

Harvest in Wisconsin means the return of farmer’s markets and a wide array of fresh fruits, veggies, honey, jams, and pies.  Below is one of Wisconsin’s most popular byproducts of a successful harvest.

The breakfast of cheeseheads.

Wisconsin is filled with keg hoisting German and Belgian decedents who have brewed the perfect blend of harvested barleys, corns, hops, wild malted milk balls, organic foamy things – producing a golden yellow to chocolatey brown beverage, otherwise known as “beer”.  The glass above is from a small craft brewery in New Glarus – the ever popular (and my personal favorite, which of course I know you remember from my last post – ahem), Spotted Cow.  Deeee-lish!

Speaking of Belgians and Germans, below are pictures of my grandparents, Cliff and Estelle, and Glenn and Betty.  Cliff was Belgian, Estelle was Dutch, and both Glenn and Betty were Germans.  (Germans and Belgians and Dutch…oh my!).  I never knew Betty – she died when my mom was two – but I have many fond memories of Millie, the woman I loved and called Grandma.  But that’s another story.

None of my grandparents were brewers, but gardening (earth) was a big part of their world while raising families during the depression and the 2nd World War.  I really only remember Cliff and Estelle’s though, as they continued to garden up into their eighties.  You can see a bit of it on the left in their photo.

Estelle and Cliff on the left, Glenn and Betty on the right

My grandfather loved his garden – it was filled with tulips and irises, currants, concord grapes and green beans.  Cucumbers too, I think.  I spent most of my time running around with my cousins playing with all the stuff we weren’t supposed to like Grandma’s perfumed powder puffs, but I remember Grandpa out there tending and watering, taking breaks in the big swing with Grandma or the neighbor.

When I was young, I didn’t appreciate my grandparents as much as I do now.  What a wasted opportunity- I was so young and stupid and ignorant, with such a wealth of knowledge and love right at my fingertips.  But somehow, they managed to reach across the space-time continuum (that’s “heaven” to you non-nerds), and plant a little bit of themselves back into my life.

With the advent of social media, my cousins and I have gotten back in touch, sharing stories, photos and anecdotes of kids, pets, spouses, grandchildren – and of course meandering together down memory lane, stopping often to smell Grandpa’s flowers and remark upon Grandma’s fishing skills.

My cousin Michelle, with whom I shared many ill-fated adventures while growing up, happened to marry a gardener, who happened to post photos of his beautiful blooms, which I happened to love, and he happened to respond and the next thing I know, I have a box delivered to me filled with his flower children.  And not just his children, but even more special to me – the flower children of my grandparents.  He and Michelle had descendants of the irises from Grandpa’s garden, and sent some to me.

Grandma Estelle White and Grandpa Cliff Purple are now residing down by the pond, where I am praying they survive the winter, after which we will hopefully have a lawn and I can transplant them to a more permanent home up by the house.  Unfortunately, living down by the pond has it’s hazards.  The easement to the pond is owned by the town, and they came thru and weed whacked (raped and pillaged, more like), running right over Grandma and Grandpa.

Grandma Estelle White (left) bore the brunt of the lawn mower attack. Grandpa Cliff Purple (right) faired much better.

I think they are okay, though.  I can’t imagine God sending bits of my heart back to me, only to have them killed by a rampant lawn mower.  So say a little prayer for them if you think of it.  🙂

My final harvest photo is something that should be “knee high by the 4th of July”, and grown by most farmers in Wisconsin to feed our beautiful spotted cheese makers (aka: cows) and our Packer cheerin’ cheese eaters (aka: Wisconsinites):  Nothing like roasted corn at a church picnic, with a hot bowl of booyah and an ice cold soda or brewski.  We know how to live in Wisconsin.  And I’m not even saying that with my sarcastic voice.

CORN!

Okay, I lied about the final photo.  I’m not really done.  I have a whole collage of “yellow” to share with you!  Did I mention I love yellow?  These are a few of my favorite yellow things (besides cheese, corn and beer):

Now I’m done.  Mostly.  Unless I think of something else.  In which case, I would most certainly NOT be done, and this blog would drag on forever.  Pretty sure we don’t want THAT.

Until next week,

Sue

PS.  I had delicious cake this weekend.

PPS.  You could get me to quit typing by putting cake in my hands.

PPSS.  Don’t forget to visit Cee’s page to check out the other challengers!

PPSSSPPPSPSSSP:  Cake.

 

 

 

 

Riding the Door, Less is More

As I sit down to type this, the air outside is a brisk 53 degrees, and it will be in the low forties by the time I walk out the door for work tomorrow.  Cooler air and shorter days herald the coming of fall, and I am feeling kinda bummed that I don’t have many more days of cycling left.  In fact, I had my last major bike event a couple of weeks ago riding in the  Door County Century.

Door County Century. First rest stop at Murphy Park. Gorgeous morning! Couldn’t ask for better weather.

The Door County Century celebrated its 35th anniversary this year, and is one of the most popular century rides in Wisconsin.  For good reason – they are well-organized, the routes wind thru some of the most beautiful countryside in Northeast Wisconsin, and the rest stops are well stocked with yummy delicious go-go fuel.  And you know me – it’s all about the food.

Cookies…

and muffins….

and bagels…oh my!

Gotta throw in a little health food. This fruit was amazing.

For those of you who are not crazy cyclists, a century is a 100 mile bike ride.  Most organized centuries are recreational and offer shorter routes in addition to the full 100 mile route.  This year, the DCC also had options of 28, 50, and 70.  Last year Kay and I did the full century.  It was really a lot of fun, but it was also very hilly and the final 30 miles were pretty tough.  “Pretty tough” meaning we were DYING and every time we saw another hill coming up we thought we were going to have a nervous breakdown.

Neither one of us felt like we had ridden enough this year to tackle those upper peninsula miles where the highest elevations await the unwary, so we opted for 70 this year.  Yes, we wimped out.  Totally.  But we are all good with that, because 70 was the Golden Ticket.

First of all, look at this map.  Check out those elevations between the yellow stars on the elevation map (in the boxed in area of the physical map) – all residing in the 100 mile route.  That’s a whole lotta pain right there.  A Polygon of Pain.

Whereas the 70 mile route is all rainbows and unicorns, pretzels and cheese, donuts and muffins, pickles and cheesecurds…   The only thing we had to give up was strawberry shortcake at the Sister Bay rest stop.  That was almost a deal breaker until we realized we would actually finish this year before the beer ran out.  Although ironically, we didn’t even use our beer tickets, because we knew we had to drive home yet.  See?  I, too, can be a responsible adult.

Cave Point Door County Century

I think my favorite part of this years ride was the Cave Point rest stop.  The sky was the bluest of blues and the grass was the greenest of greens.  Warm sun, a light breeze, the waves crashing below on the rocks, ham sandwiches…did I mention that I ride for food?  Kay and I stretched out in the sun for a while, but we were starting to feel a little nappish so figured we better get going.  It was truly hard to leave.

Now THAT’S a blue sky!

Moi’, enjoying a delicious ham sandwich.

The next 15 miles roll thru lush forest and farm land, with enough variety to help wear off that ham sandwich and granola bar you just ate.  You can keep a fairly decent pace here, but oddly there is a rest stop only 6 miles from the finish.  You may be tempted to pass this one by, but you will miss cheesecurds and pickles if you do.  Oh yeah, there’s some lighthouse or something that’s supposed to have historical value or whatever.  Blah, blah, blah.  I never made it past the curd table.  And I know some of you are wondering about the pickles.  Like, why are there pickles at a rest stop, which is kind of what I thought too, but man – when your body is sodium deprived – that will be the best pickle you have ever eaten.

Our ponies!

All the riders in the saloon, eating their cherry pie!

Wether you ride the 100, 70 or 50, the last 5 miles of this ride last an eternity, and you will really appreciate those cheese curds and pickles from that last stop.  It doesn’t help that there is one last beastly hill in the home stretch.  Seriously, who plans a route where they stick a giant hill in the last mile?  Kinda makes you want to smack someone with your water bottle, but then your turning the corner into the fair grounds and you can hear the music and smell the garlic bread, and you know there is a piece of Door County cherry pie with your name on it.  And beer.  Which you may or may not drink, depending on your responsibility ratio.  I know, you can’t all be me – such perfection is truly hard to maintain.  I struggle but I do it for you little people.

All kidding aside: If you enjoy organized rides, put the Door County Century on your bucket list.  It’s offering of beauty, challenge, camaraderie, and of course great food, make this ride worth your time and cash.  Hope to see you there next year!