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!
Brick House 