Brats



DePere Riverfest brat captured with my new Wisconsin camera



When I was a kid we'd pack up the station wagon for our family trips, usually to Florida for Marietta College spring baseball, or to wherever the Buckeyes were playing in a college bowl.  Inevitably, mom would run back to the house multiple times for something she had forgotten (or we had forgotten) and dad would say "Saylor, (he called my mom by her maiden name), get in the damn car! If we don't have it we'll buy it!" 

I have always loved that attitude and can say with certainty that I inherited it - much to my husband's dismay.  I jetted off on my honeymoon with a couple bathing suits and a toothbrush, and upon purchase of an airport camera ($$$) he concluded that this would be a costly inheritance.  Lucky for me, he adored my dad and can't begin to argue his philosophy.  And now I have another new camera, from Wisconsin.

My dad didn't much care for "stuff" but he, like me, thoroughly enjoyed his food.  I learned from him that eating outside is better than in.  That you should never eat at a chain when you travel.  That eating slow will make it last longer.  That some of the best eats are found in that dive on the wrong end of town. And that all you really need to do is ask a local...a REAL local, not the one working at the hotel.

Oh, and one other thing.  With festivals come food, and that's a great combination.

I spyed the DePere Riverfest in the Appleton newspaper and had a few hours to kill before the baseball game. So I GPS'd the scenic route, another dad thing, and headed north toward Green Bay.  My dad was never in a hurry.

The festival was situated in a beautiful waterfront park alongside a charming town and there were beer trailers everywhere!  What goes best with beer?  Brats, of course.  And there were plenty of them.  Mine (above) was the perfect brat, I'm sure of it.  I don't know how I do it, but if you tell them "the blacker the better" and "point me to the kraut", you could probably do it too.  Perfectly charred with a first bite "pop" followed by juicy goodness. It was so good and with proceeds benefting local veterans that I had to take one back to the hotel for coach.  I doctored it up and twisted it inside an empty hotdog bun bag.  The steam effect on the bun made his just a bit better than mine. 

Harmony

Ah, the beauty of food.  I do love it.  It is artful, comforting, romantic, deceptive, delicate, delicious....and at the same time completely necessary.  What a beautiful thing.  I'm not sure why it intrigues me so but I could spend hours with a stack of cookbooks (assuming there are photos included) imagining what platters and bowls I will use to display the artwork I will prepare.  I've decided, as I enter my second trimester of pregnancy, that I love food now more than ever (except that I cannot pair it with a bottle of wine). 

And so, I've decided to share The Good Life as I see it...to be eaten :)

Appleton Wisconsin is not like I might have imagined (if I had taken the time to imagine it).  It is eclectic and commercial, bustling and a bit laid back, easy to navigate but complex in a way. My first visit there was as the girlfriend of a baseball coach that led the Marietta College Pioneers to a Division III College Championship. The guys came home in 2011 with giant flashly rings not yet knowing they'd be back in just under a year to defend their title. 

Consecutive appearances in the final game of the College World Series is not likley, but let me tell you....these are no regular kids. So, my second visit to Appleton was as the pregnant wife of that said baseball coach (pretty good year) to watch the Etta Express make history with a second consecutive national title.

Being the coach's wife means I take in more than my share of brats, peanuts, and founatin pop.  It means I am subject to (and often the subject of) various odd superstitions on gameday.  It means that I have another family...specifically one that is mostly hungry and sweaty.  It means that during BP (batting practice), scouting reports, coach's interviews, and team meetings I have a lot of time on my hands to explore....which I love to do.

Exploration for me usually means a morning walk (to help with the bratwurst problem), a little culture (usually not more than taking in a local historic landmark), the hunt for TJ Maxx, and the never ending quest for good eats!

Blueberry Crumb Bar with a side of Mocha Harmony

Our championship hotel was situated in what I would call downtown, adjacent to the campus of Lawrence University.  I do not know much about Lawrence but it oozes of the liberal arts.  There is an overall feeling of theater, lierature, music, and philosophy on campus.  Coffee shops, unique boutiques, young hippie parents, and alternative bars surrounded our hotel on College Avenue. 

As I made my way down the street one early morning on the hunt for a creamy sweet steaming cup of caffeine, I happened upon the Harmony Cafe.  It was the only thing open at that hour on this particular street and I knew when I walked in that it was just what the doctor ordered.  A colorful hand written chalk board announcing Mocha caught my eye and as I approached the counter to order I laid eyes on the Blueberry Crumb Bar (I'm a sucker for anything that says "crumb" in the title....which to me simply means butter and sugar).  The electronic blinking "order up" device made Harmony's old school charm come of age in a complementary way.  The bar was delciously simple - just right for an early morning with lots of eating yet to do. 

And so, I started my Appleton food journey with great pleasure at a streetside table with blue-mocha and the Post Crescent.  It had only just begun....

Abby's Fricasse de Pollo

Abby's Fricase de Pollo

Brian's grandmother "Abby" (short for Abuela) must've been quite the cook because our travels always include the hunt for authentic Puerto Rican food "like she used to make".  I've never seen him happier than in front of a plate of tres leches cake.  His Aunt Holly gave me one of Abby's hand written recipes - a tomatoey chicken dish that you can find simmering on my stove all afternoon about once a month.   

It's the time that makes simple Puerto Rican ingredients taste so complex, and the meat….oh, so tender.  I suspect that in Puerto Rican culture, enjoying the food takes almost as much time as preparing the food.  If my mother-in-law's house is any indication, there are hours spent ‘round the dining room table on every visit.  Even when we're not eating, it's the place where everyone gathers to chat, gossip, plan the day, or plan the next meal.  

The table is a comfortable place for us and one that has clearly been part of my husband's upbringing.  He, unlike most men I know, believes that the couch is no place to have a meal (though he doesn't mind the TV being placed so that he can see it from the dining table).    

Fricase Just Before a Long Tomato Bath

Brian's house rule for eating only at the table was a tough pill to swallow for Jesse and me, but it has been a blessing in more ways than we know.  There are so many things that I love about our life, but perhaps my favorite thing is the time we spend together at the table.