Travel – WISCONSIN FUN NEXT EXIT

There’s nothing wrong with Nashville

My recent decision to plan a trip to Nashville began as most good ideas do, with the feeling that my living room walls were closing in on me while a Todd Snider song played on the local community radio station. Within a couple of hours I had booked four nights at a cozy East Nashville airbnb with a huge backyard and a potbellied pig named Abby. I’ve never spent much time thinking about Nashville, but it’s only 9 hours away by car and I suddenly had the urge to hear a southern accent. It wasn’t long before my sister decided she needed to hear one too, so she booked a flight.

I fell fast for this city, and long to go back… Today. Nashville in April is warm and green. The city is laid-back and friendly. Every single person we passed on the street said hello, including a shirtless jogger who took out his headphones to take the time to say, “How y’all doing.” If you tell someone in Nashville that you like something of theirs, they give it to you! (I am now the proud owner of a button with a picture of Obama smoking a cigarette.) In Nashville, there is a hardware store where cats sleep in a basket of flowers in the window, and a taco joint where women share a pitcher of margaritas at 8 pm on a Sunday while their kids play with my little ponies. This is my kind of town.

We spent most of our time in East Nashville, which was really easy to do. We ventured out a couple of times- including an unsuccessful attempt at getting into the Bluebird Cafe and a successful field trip to the Pinewood Social, a giant place with delicious greyhounds made with fresh-squeezed grapefruit juice, a bowling alley and $7 coozies- but we spent most of our time eating, drinking and walking around on the east side of town. Here are a few of our favorite things in East Nashville. Many of these recommendations came from Abby the pig’s family, our lovely hosts for the week.

High Garden Woodland Tea House: At High Garden you can buy tinctures, eat miso soup, and order a kombucha flight. And the woman pouring the booch has a roommate from somewhere in Wisconsin, so she’s no stranger to Wisconsin cheese, one of our favorite topics.

Two Ten Jack: Sake and wine on tap, a forgiving waiter who may have gotten sprayed in the eye with water by a certain toddler, and the BEST vegetarian ramen I have ever had in my life.

Turnip Truck: A natural grocery store with a juice bar, lots of organic food, emergency drinking beer, and pimento cheese spread.

Ugly Mugs Coffee Shop: This unpretentious coffee shop was within walking distance of our place and had outdoor seating, hot coffee, granola with yogurt and breakfast sandwiches.

Barista Parlor: This pretentious coffee shop had a record cabinet built out of wooden pallets, $5 cups of (really delicious) coffee, and the most tasty breakfast biscuits with an egg and cheese. Totally worth the denim-apron clad male baristas wearing girl power buttons.

Southern Grist Brewing Company: We had lots of fun sitting at a picnic table in the parking lot of this brewery. We made friends with the other parking lot dwellers, including some sweet dogs, and loved Southern Grist’s unique and tasty beers. And the pimento cheese snack, of course.

The Treehouse: That photo is of The Treehouse’s grilled pineapple mule. They have grilled pineapple mules on their cocktail menu.

Sky Blue Cafe: A small, busy diner with lots of breakfast choices. My favorite is the homemade granola served with yogurt and berries. So delicious.

Jeni’s Ice Cream: This delightful ice cream shop smells like waffle cones and they make flavors like lemon buttermilk frozen yogurt and goat cheese with red cherries.

Mas Tacos: Pineapple cilantro aguas frescas, free pickled carrots and other veg at the counter, and tacos like fried avocado and sweet potato with quinoa. And there’s a patio out back with a hot pink-painted cement brick wall. Cash only.

You stole our hearts, Nashville. We hope to see you soon.

*Many of these photos belong to our travel partner, my sister Sena.

So lucky

Hello from this side of October. With everyone else asleep on the couch, I’m reminiscing about yellow rafters discovered at a coffee shop last week on our vacation to Door County.

Dan and I decided to take Half-moon on a little September adventure. Thanks to the generosity of friends and their families, we stayed at a cabin on Kangaroo Lake near Bailey’s Harbor and in a beautiful apartment on Washington Island. We drank coffee from an adorable cabin with a strange name and beer from the hippest new brewery on the mainland.

We had crazy delicious sandwiches and gelato from Door County Creamery in Sister Bay.

We got a behind-the-scenes tour of the gardens of Wickman House, thanks to my old friend- and gardener- Adam, and ate there that night for our first dinner in a restaurant since Half-moon joined the picture. Never have I eaten more delicious pasta dish in a restaurant- ravioli with preserved lemon and capers. The whiskey drink I nursed throughout the night wasn’t too shabby either.

And then we boarded the ferry to Washington Island. What is it about ferries? I wish I had a reason to take one every day. On The Island we ate lots of pizza, drank lots of beer, dared each other to dunk into Lake Michigan at Schoolhouse Beach and had fires at sunset at one of the most beautiful spots in the world. Half-moon flipped himself over onto his stomach-surprising himself and us- and laughed up there for the very first time.

What luck.

Take the F train

4, 930 miles

Fun with Pets : Dixieland Jubilee edition

(Guest post by Dan Walkner)

Ah, pets. Are they truly everywhere? What about the southern United States? Are Southern pets as cute as, say, pets of the Northwest or Midwest? I put on my Sherlock Holmes hat and walking shoes and walked to our rented car and drove down south to answer these ever pertinent and burning queries. Join the Jubilee!

Our journey took us to Asheville, NC. While there, we were looking for the art district that we would ultimately find a week later, which upon finding the brewery that we HAD TO GO TO OMG, IT’S SOOOOO AWESOME wouldn’t serve me, we got lost(ish). As we puzzledly scratched our respective noodles and gazed about, I saw a poodle holding a cat as though it were a baby doll. For real. Erica slammed on the brakes and reversed the half block to the scene of the whatever-the-opposite-of-crime-is place, and we got out and captured some of the magic. Dig:

That’s love. These pets show what teamwork is all about. What sport you ask? Hmm, I’ll have to think about that. While I do, here’s another gem of these pet diversity acceptors:

Yeah it’s a little fuzzy, but maybe, just maybe, tears of joys fell on the camera-look-at-stuff-glass-part-thingy of the camera. Sorry for the science jargon. Moving on.

We arrived at our cabin and immediately found a crafty sasquatch in the hot tub! Scary, right?!?

He quickly calmed our nerves by creating a mini snowman mascot for us. Crisis averted.

Our cabin was on a darling little farm. There seemed to be a lot of dogs around. How did I know you ask? Well, barking was happening a lot. We decided to investigate further. Here are the findings:

AHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!! Intruder alert! Oh wait, it’s just a little yellow dog who ran up the hill, took a leak on a snowy shrub, licked my face, accepted some scratches, and ran away. Ok, back to the pet search:

You know what? All this pet stuff made me want to go get some vintage western wear. (This is a common symptom of pet searching, or, well, me leaving the house.) Tum-te-tum, Dum-de-dum…

BOOSH! This just happened:

I forget this little cuteness nuke’s name, but he tricked me into buying a $30 shirt.

Then he wanted to do a Sam Kinison impression, so I figured what the hay? Let her rip, buddy:

Impressive.

Farms need pets, too. Some to work, some for morale building, and some for both. Our tour of the farm led to all of the above of these aforementioned and viable pet vocations.

What dear reader? Those are only stupid sheep a.k.a. non-pets? Look again my skeptical friend. Eureka! You see it now? The white wookie-esque friend? That is one hard-charging pooch! Sleeps outside for the love of her sheep homies. Dedication makes a farm go.

You’re probably wondering if that dog has a sibling that also has a best cat friend that hangs around, aren’t you? You were? I know. Yup, it’s kind of a gift I have. As promised:

I know, I’m way ahead of you. How much does the cat weigh? This many:

See Big Whitey’s paw? Yeah, the one that trudges around in, well, grody farm dirt all day? He played a little joke on me right after this photo and stuck his paw in my mouth! Heyyyy! Here’s a shot of me not barfing but spitting a lot as he retracts his soil smasher:

Silly new friend, oh how could I stay mad at you? Answer? Can’t!

Donkey!

All this pet stuff made me thirsty and wondery. I put on my Minocqua, WI thinking cloak and got some delicious beers at Wicked Weed Brewing.

Then I started thinking about my own pets. They can be weird at times. Are other people’s cats as weird as mine? Do they eat tape, too? Lick the sides of LP records? Get their head’s stuck in kitchen chairs? Climb cacti? Then P. McMahon’s time machine from 1997 pulled up.

Ah. Thanks, P.

What a whirlwind tour of a single southern city that I’ll be basing all of my fact-finding on! What did we learn? Lots, duh! First, southern pets may bark a little slower and more confusedly, but they still get their point across. Don’t forget to look closely: southern pets are masters of disguise! Keep your mouth closed when tormenting an enormous dog’s best feline friend or be prepared to test the pH of the farmstead soil. Of course, when thrift shopping, fall for the canine wiles and just buy the damn shirt! It’s green and it’s awesome. Finally, no matter what color a pet is, or what part of the world it comes from, he, she, or neuter just wants to spread the love and maybe get a little scratch on the ol’ pet tums. These are jubilous pet times we live in: embrace them or eat dirt.

Asheville over easy

Dan and I recently returned from a road trip to the Asheville, North Carolina area. We drank lots of hoppy beer, ate lots of good food and spent most waking hours soaking in a cedar tub overlooking the snowy farm where we spent several nights. Ah, spring break.

People in Madison always like to compare our city to the other hip ones: Austin, Texas. Portland, Oregon. Burlington, Vermont. “You know, people always say Madison is a lot like ________ (insert hipster/ progressive/ beer or bike-friendly city here). But I’ll tell you what Asheville’s got that Madison ain’t: Breakfast places where the default side dish is raw kale salad. Not bacon. Not toast. Kale salad. And, while we’re talking about it, in Asheville they use compostable containers for to-go food. Ahem, Madison…

The place where I would eat breakfast every day of the week if I could is Over Easy Cafe on Broadway in downtown Asheville. I stumbled into the bright and noisy cafe at about 9:30 a.m. on a Monday morning. It was a reprieve after emerging from our very clean, but very dark and claustrophobic, windowless private room at the hostel. I took a seat at the bar and lolled over the juice menu, ordering one for “waking up:” Apple, celery, greens and ginger.

Next I pondered food. Tempted by the grits, biscuits with vegetarian herb gravy, and lavender french toast, I decided to try the breakfast tacos: Corn tortillas filled with scrambled eggs, green onions and southwestern tempeh, topped with ginger-lime slaw and cilantro. Raw kale salad and pickled carrots on the side. As I waited I sipped my juice and coffee, people-watched and sang under my breath to the 80s playlist. (“I Want to Know What Love Is” is still a really good song.) Pretty soon I got company at the bar- a gentleman with a newspaper and a cap who sat down on his stool and ordered a carrot juice. He spoke to me about every 5 1/2 minutes, inquiring about my juice, what I ordered, how many apps I have on my phone (“zero- it’s a flip phone”) and to tell me that race car drivers are acting like kids- getting into fights. Just as my food arrived he was scoffing at the man at the end of the bar who he didn’t think had the moxie to finish his double order of pancakes. “You’re too skinny!” I stopped listening as I admired my colorful plate for a few seconds before devouring my first taco. It tasted fresh, healthy and delicious.

After taking care of my check I said so long to my neighbor and went to rouse Dan from the bat cave- we went back 30 minutes later and again on Friday.

See ya next time, Over Easy.

The good land

In September on a gorgeous late summer weekend, Dan and I went down the road to visit our friends, Nora and Nate, in Milwaukee. As a kid growing up in Madison, trips to Milwaukee meant one of two things: a ballgame at decrepit- but lovable- County Stadium to watch Rob Deer, Robin Yount and Cecil Cooper lope around in baby-blue uniforms or a “we’re tired of winter and need to get out of the house and feel humid air” trip to the domes. This time around, upon arriving at Nora and Nate’s attractive and sunny hard-wood floored apartment across from the river, we abandoned our car for bicycles and pedaled unchartered (by us) Mill-e-wah-que territory. I believe I said aloud more than once: “I never knew Milwaukee had this many trees!”

Our first trip on the wooded bike path took us to Lakefront Brewery, home of one of my all-time favorite beers, Fixed Gear Red Ale. Our tour guide was an interesting combination of angry and cheesy, yelling at participants for talking but also leading us in a somewhat-inspired rendition of the theme song from ‘Laverne and Shirley.’ But, as all good brewery tour guides do, he kept us in the beer throughout the proceedings.

After the tour we traded our tokens for various samples of Lakefront’s offerings and sat next to the river until they kicked us out for a wedding.

Giggling as we were ushered away from the brewery, we hopped our bikes for the beach, weaving through the neighborhood where our cat, Danger Boy, was found mewing under a porch as a kitten. We made our way to Bradford Beach where our friend, Craig, was singing on a stage set up on the sand a hundred feet from Lake Michigan.

I reveled in the feeling of being on a surprise get-away as we cruised away from the beach past parks, old pavilions and people out enjoying the air. Dinner came next. Nora and Nate wanted to take us to their favorite restaurant, Roots. I traded shorts for bell-bottomed jeans, french-rolled my pant leg, threw our headlamps in my purse and we were off- another trip down the bike path took us to the restaurant on the hill, overlooking downtown. I believe I said aloud more than once: “I never knew Milwaukee had this many hills!”

Upon arriving at Roots, we noticed a nervous energy filled the air. Soon the news floated down to us- this was the last night this extremely popular farm-to-table restaurant would be serving dinner. Nora and Nate were crushed with the news, but we decided to live it up. We sat outside and were lucky to have their favorite waiter, a charming man with an even more charming South African accent. He and I must have thanked each other a thousand times over the course of the evening. We sipped on red ales and started with mussels nestled in a tomato broth that I sipped as a soup long after we divvied up the meaty mollusks. Next came the main course- Nora, Nate and Dan all opted for the grass-fed steak as I decided on the vegetarian succotash. I almost didn’t order this dish as the word ‘succotash’ for me conjures up images of a bad summer camp meal full of frozen corn and mushy lima beans, but in the end, I went for it, mainly on the recommendation of our waiter, who at this point in the meal I felt ready to trust with my life. The succotash was, in a word, heavenly. I can’t really describe it much more, except to confide in you that, in the middle of this fine-dining restaurant, I looked around to see if anyone was paying any attention before I picked up my plate and licked it clean.

I have only done that (in public) once before and it was the plate of the chocolate bread pudding at the Rendezvous Bistro in Jackson, Wyoming. If you’ve had it, you understand. (Additionally, that night our waiter in Wyoming informed us we were in the plate-licking section so it was okay.)

After the succotash we ordered dessert, but I honestly don’t remember what it was. I do remember, however, that Nora ordered tea, knocking the socks off our waiter when she asked for rooibos tea, apparently a favorite in his native South Africa. Delighted, he brought us a full tea service, complete with tiny pitchers of milk and honey. It was the perfect end to a beautiful dinner- sipping hot tea as the evening air grew chillier. We bid Roots goodbye and put on our headlamps, biking home through the quiet dark in the middle of the city.

The next morning Nate made us a delicious meal of eggs and bunsen burner coffee. We lazed around before deciding on one more adventure before Dan and I had to make our home. We were off to the biergarten. We headed the opposite direction on our bicycles two miles and landed in this magical place next to the river where I could spend every Sunday afternoon from here to eternity.

There were steins of beers, pretzals with mustard, good friends, corgis and a two-piece band featuring an accordian player from Slovenia. Alice Cooper was right. Milwaukee is the good land and I can’t wait to go back.

Under the Iowa sun

In my pretend life, the one where I write for a living, plan dinner parties with hand-written menus and cloth napkins, eat peaches by the bushel and have never heard of the common core standards, I found myself in Tuscany this past weekend. While suspended in real life in my new striped hammock, I spent hours imagining myself in a terraced farmhouse with white-washed walls and windows wide open to the wasps, butterflies and wafts of lemon trees. I was so moved by the descriptions of the long lunches followed by siestas, that I declared to Dan that next summer will be a summer of Tuscany (which Dan quickly deemed ‘Under the Madi-sun’) as I reclined awkwardly in my hammock trying to eat/drink my inspired lunch: hunk of blue cheese, end of bread, garden tomato drizzled with olive oil and poor-woman’s sangria (red wine, flat Pelligrino, squeeze of lemon, ice).

It may not be Tuscany, but I did get to go with my family to our cottage in Iowa in late August. And while it wasn’t perfect- there was my mom’s cracked wrist and the loud air conditioner on the ugly house next door where there used to be wild flowers (picked for bouquets placed in tin can vases)- it was just quite. There is simply something about the corner of Iowa where we spent our summers growing up. The air is softer and the light glows more golden than anywhere else I’ve been before dusk. A light gust will make you hold your breath and remember an evening squeezed between your grandparents on a bench swing at a nearby county park.

Nostalgia surrounds you.

The wooden roller coaster, the nutty bar stand, crickets, the sheep. An empty lot where the Fun House used to be. A stone bench that bakes all day in the sun. The roll-up cupboard hiding the green glass jar used for Country Time lemonade.

We cooked in the yellow kitchen, a meal my mom remembered from The New England Butt’ry Shelf Almanac. It’s the perfect meal for a late summer harvest. I’m almost sure they would serve it in Tuscany, but I bet it tastes even better in Iowa.

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Casserole of Summer Squash

From The New England Butt’ry Shelf Almanac

About 2 lbs. of summer squash, washed and cut into cubes or small slices

1 white onion, peeled and chopped

3 large (or 5 or 6 medium) tomatoes, quartered

2 tsp. fresh-ground pepper

1 Tbs. salt

2 Tbs. sugar

1 tsp. dry mustard

1 Tbs. dried oregano*

1 cup breadcrumbs or cracker crumbs

1 cup grated Vermont cheese

4 Tbs. butter

Preheat over to 350 degrees. Parboil squash for 5 minutes, then drain. Put olive oil in 3-quart baking dish or casserole. Put in squash, onions and tomatoes. Mix together the salt, pepper, sugar, mustard, herbs, breadcrumbs, and one-half the grated cheese. Spread mixture over top of the vegetables. Dot with the butter. Cover the casserole and bake for 50 minutes. Remove cover, scatter the other half of the grated cheese over the top, and return uncovered to the oven until cheese is melted and browned. Serves 12.

*At this point I should tell you that we revised the recipe- we added cubed eggplant and used an old baguette for the bread (ripped into bite-sized pieces). We used fresh herbs and a variety of cheeses, none of them from Vermont. It was delicious.

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Two nights ago my mom gave me an extra copy of The New England Butt’ry Shelf Almanac. When she opened it she found a poem copied by my grandma on the inside cover with the note, “I love this poem!”

Portrait by a Neighbor by Edna St Vincent Millay

Before she has her floor swept, or her dishes done,

Any day you’ll find her

A sunning in the sun!

It’s long after midnight

Her keys in the lock

And you never see her chimney smoke till past 10 o’clock

She digs in her garden

with a shovel and a spoon.

She weeds her lazy lettuce

By the light of the moon

She walks up the walk like a woman in a dream,

She forgets she borrowed butter and pays you back in cream!

Her lawn looks like a meadow and if she mows the place

She leaves the clover standing and the Queen Annes lace!

It’s no wonder I daydream of words all day.

Full circle

About 42 million years ago when Dan and I visited Bayfield in March, I found out that I was going to be interviewing for the Greater Madison Writing Project. While on vacation in Boulder in April, I found out that I had been accepted to the program. And as of last Thursday, I can call myself a fellow of the GMWP Summer Institute (barring a couple of assignments that I still owe my team of enthusiastic leaders). Being part of the summer program meant presenting a 90-minute ‘Teacher Workshop’ in which I shared something that I was wondering about how I taught writing. I considered prezi and power point, but the truth is, I love blogs. So I created another one for my presentation- you can find this blog, entitled ‘Inspiring Writers,’ here.

Before my summer writing adventure began in July, Dan and I took a trip back to the Bayfield area, but this time we didn’t stop at the edge of the land. This time we took the ferry across the drink to Madeline Island.

Oh, Madeline Island. We jumped off rocks into Lake Superior, cooked delicious meals in the campsite and had riproaring campfires. We drove around listening to Neil Young, drank beer at Tom’s Burned Down Bar, checked out real estate and decided that we could retire now and work later.

And speaking of Bayfield, the photo behind this story has been making me happy/ weepy for several days now. If anyone knows anyone getting married in the midwest area anytime soon, I think you should encourage them to hire this woman.

All of this leads me to beets.

You have stuck around this far, so the least I can do is give you an idea for dinner. Dan and I recently dined with our friends Martha and Dominic, who always give me inspiration for salads. On this evening in their backyard we had a salad of garden tomatoes, olive oil, basil and mozzarella cheese and one of shredded beets dressed them in citrus and herbs. I have been making a version of this beet salad religiously since that night.

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Shredded beet salad with citrus and herbs

1 bunch beets (I have been using golden beets)

Handful of fresh herbs (I like a combination of parsley, chives and lemon basil)

Juice of 1 lemon and 1 lime (and zest of lemon and lime, if you are so inclined)

Splash of orange juice

Glug of olive oil

Salt and pepper, optional

Shred the beets in a bowl. Combine the rest of the ingredients in a jar and give it a good shake. Pour dressing over the beets. Enjoy as is, or mix with spinach/ arugula/ lettuce.

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My mom and sister, my salad gurus, have taught me that you can marinate components of the salad and then use this in place of the dressing (for example, cucumbers that have been soaking in oil, vinegar and herbs). I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Madeline Island, so I am heading back. This time I will be bringing a jar of shredded beets to pour over greens for our salads as we ponder that cabin with the lakefront view.

36 Hours in Bayfield

Nestled along the shoreline of Lake Superior, gazing out sleepily at the Apostle Islands, lies the dormant town of Bayfield, Wisconsin. Come summertime this place will be hopping with kayakers, campers, concert-goers, seasonal workers and black bears. In the winter, it’s tough to find a place that is a) open and b) serves beer. But dig deep, and you will be rewarded. While Bayfield may be resting up for summer, there is plenty of food, drinks and fun to be found. You just have to be resourceful, which is what it’s all about in Wisconsin in the wintertime. Plan a trip to Bayfield in March for the Winter Festival and prepare to schmooze with the locals. Here’s what you need to know, if you go.*

Friday

1:30 p.m. 1) SOMEBODY BUY THIS KID A SODA POP (OR A CHAI TEA)

Along Highway 63 on the way to Bayfield, you will find the town of Hayward, infamous for a giant fish.

While in Hayward, make sure to stop at Backroads Coffee & Tea (10526 Dakota Avenue, Hayward) for an afternoon cup, recommended by this brave young man who spends his lunch hours helping to keep the dream alive.

3:30 p.m. 2) WELCOME TO THE PINEHURST INN

The Pinehurst Inn (83645 State Hwy 13, Bayfield), offering eco-friendly lodging with views of Lake Superior, is the place to stay. The rooms are cozy, the complimentary breakfasts are organic and delicious (ours included yogurt with granola and blueberries, egg and mushroom quiche with whole wheat crust, and tart apple cider), and the vintage bathtubs have claws. The owners of the inn, Steve and Nancy, are friendly and knowledgeable- they love the area and have lots of recommendations about where to go and what to do.

4:30 p.m. 3) DOES ANYONE KNOW WHERE WE COULD FIND A BEER?

After a brief stroll around downtown Bayfield, it’s time for happy hour.

Which may end up being more difficult than you would think in Wisconsin. On a Friday. At 4:45 p.m. But luckily there is the Pickled Herring Club at Pier Plaza Restaurant (1 Rittenhouse Avenue) in downtown Bayfield.

Not only will you find beer, you may just be entered in a ‘crazy sweater contest/raffle’ by your friendly server (who may just call you the next day to inform you that you have won, despite the fact that your ‘crazy sweater’ was a kelly green cardigan).

8:00 p.m. 4) A GOOD THYME WAS HAD BY ALL

For a memorable dinner head south from Bayfield toward the town of Washburn. Look for the yellow house on your left. An upscale restaurant featuring local ingredients, Good Thyme (77180 Hwy 13, Washburn) is not to be missed (unless you get to Washburn, and then you have gone too far).

If you eat meat, try the meatloaf with blue cheese; if you don’t, the house salad with miso dressing is a highlight. Either way you slice it, be sure to order a dessert martini and try not to spill it on yourself.

Saturday

10:oo a.m. 5) I KISSED A POLAR BEAR

Traditionally held on the ice between Bayfield and Madeline Island, this year’s Run on Water event was a 3. 5 mile run next to the water on the scenic Brownstone Trail, due to unstable (non-existent) ice conditions. If you place (6th- out of 13- narrowly beating out a man in his 80s who was running on snowshoes), you can look forward to arranging a personal awards ceremony with a polar bear.

11:00 a.m. 6) HELL YES I WOULD LOVE A KIM CHI BURRITO

After a morning run through the snow, head to Big Water Cafe (117 Rittenhouse Avenue). Order a cold fusion (possibly one of the more delicious iced coffee beverages you could ever have), a kim chi burrito that is the epitome of healthy and hearty, and a cookie. Go back the next day and do it again.

1:00 p.m. 7) IT’S FIVE O’CLOCK SOMEWHERE (GREENLAND?)

For a festive atmosphere, stroll to Maggie’s (257 Manypenny Avenue). The walls are brightly painted, there are flamingoes everywhere, they have a good selection of beer and they are open past seven. It’s a great place to load up before an epic trip into the woods.

2:30 p.m. 8) COUGARS AND SASQUATCH AND BEARWOLVES, OH MY

After a beer in town, it’s time for more adventure in the snow. Drive two miles south to Ski Hill Road and hang a right for Mount Ashwabay Ski and Recreation Area (32525 Ski Hill Road). Home to Big Top Chautauqua in the summer, Mount Ashwabay is a charming ski area in the winter. If you enjoy cross country skiing, the Mount Ashwabay/ Jerry Jolly trail system covers 40 kilometers of trails.

If you have an overactive imagination, you may consider skiing with a companion through the quiet and snowy forest, or just sit back and enjoy the adrenaline rush that comes from wondering again if you are supposed to fight back against a bearwolf or turn and run for cover.

Take this excitement to the next level when you end up at the top of a downhill ski run on your cross-country skis.

My insider tip? Stay to skier’s left along the traverse and snowplow like hell.

6:30 p.m. 9) BARN PARTY

After a lively day of fun in the snow, return to the Pinehurst for a shower and a cribbage game and then head back to Mount Ashwabay for the Winter Bash. Featuring live music in a heated barn, South Shore beer, and a bonfire, it’s the perfect way to kick off your Saturday evening.

10:00 p.m. 10) THE BEST FROZEN PIZZA YOU HAVE EVER HAD

Beware the early closing times of restaurants in the winter in northern Wisconsin. But thanks to a tip from our new friend Blaze (a local ski hero at Mount Ashwabay) and his wife, I can tell you with all certainty that if you can make it to a place called Stage Door Bar in Washburn (123 W Omaha St), you will be rewarded with a magical-tasting homemade frozen pizza. Local legend (at least it seemed like legend at this point in the evening) is that these pizzas are made from all organic and local ingredients by an elderly couple who may or may not be elves. They live somewhere near Washburn on a farm and produce a frozen pizza that is well worth the trip to the far reaches of northern Wisconsin in March. Or in any month, for that matter. Hopefully see you this summer, magical pizzas and Lake Superior- I’ve got a gift certificate from winning a crazy sweater contest to redeem.

*Thanks to the New York Times travel feature, 36 Hours, for the inspiration for this post.