A couple of years ago, my friend Jess told me about the Pizza Farm. At first, I was not sure what to think of such a place. Was it a farm house made entirely of pizza boxes? Could farmers actually grow pizzas from the soil? Despite growing up in a tiny farming community in the middle of North Dakota, even this was something I had never heard of. What, pray tell, was a Pizza Farm? Jess explained. The Pizza Farm is a real farm tucked back in the fields of Wisconsin where, every Tuesday night in the summer months, they bake lovely pizzas made fresh from ingredients they produce themselves. It was local food done with great care and attention. Once I understood what this mythical place really was, I knew I had to check it out. Unfortunately, on most Tuesdays I am at work. This makes a mid-day trek to rural Wisconsin somewhat challenging. Enter, my summer Stay-cation and a whole week of leisurely time just perfect for a pizza adventure.Jess and I made our plans and hopped in the car on a tragically hot and steamy August day. We set out to find this gem of pizza nirvana. A couple hours later, a few pit stops to take in the local scenery and we were there. Eureka! We found it.
The farm is just a few miles outside of Stockholm, WI. You will find no signs directing you to the location. They don't advertise. They don't have to. Our arrival at 5pm was fortuitous as several hungry visitors preceded us and had descended like a swarm of locusts. As we got in line to order, several more ravenous guests were flanking us to the right and left. This place was certainly popular. Jess and I arrived just in time and were able to place our order quickly after spending a few minutes studying the chalkboard menu. The pizza options reflect the bounty of the land -- onion, herbs, eggplant, beets, fresh tomato. They have sausage made from "happy pigs" and cheese made the milk of cows and sheep residing in the pasture just a few clicks away. Add in a few delights like kalamata olives and you have yourself one delicious pizza.
It only took about 10 minutes for us to get our pie. They have 2 big wood burning ovens going and, apparently, dish out about one pizza each minute. Don't expect any fancy sides or accompaniments. It's just pizza. They don't even sell beverages and they don't have plates or napkins. Everything is bring your own and you take your trash with you when you leave. There are some nice open spots of grass where you can throw down a blanket, catch some shade and enjoy your food.I would highly recommend making a Tuesday trip to the Pizza Farm. Bring a little salt and pepper with you (pizzas could have used a little seasoning), grab a 6 pack of beer or a bottle of wine and take in this sustainable and satisfying culinary find. Oh, and if the pizza alone doesn't hit the spot, there is a great little pie shop in Stockholm where you can pick up some yummy baked goodness.In my next life, I want to live on a Pizza Farm and grow a Pizza Garden and maybe, just maybe, I'll have a Calzone Community of my very own.
Spent some time visiting with an old friend this weekend. She and I went to high school together and, over the years, had been in contact intermittently. Back in the day, we were the best of pals and spent many a summer's day riding our bikes with banana seats around the quiet streets of our small North Dakota home town (*population 955 counting cats and dogs), swimming in the local pool and just being kids. I would venture to say, she ranks as the friend I've known the longest. Funny, how that goes. You share your childhood memories and adolescent dreams with someone; they know your secrets and you know theirs. They've got the dirt on you. You remember them when . . . the antics and tribulations of misguided youth. Ahhhh. Then, you grow up. You go to college, get jobs, lose touch. Life goes on, I suppose. But, sometimes you get second chances to see your childhood friend and recall fondly how it once was. You laugh. Hopefully, neither one of you has changed so much that you've forgotten who you were as friends together. It's a wonderful thing to pick up that kind of friendship. It might never be the same relationship, but it still feels nice to appreciate the people you have become.I experienced this. My friend, let's call her Jane**, is a mom to three adorable kids. She is married and lives about 40 miles from me on her very own hobby farm. She's into antiques and growing her own vegetables. Jane is pretty darn cool. She has goats and chickens, apple trees and makes a killer pasta salad.**name changed to protect the innocent goats.See Jane's goats:
See Jane's chickens:
Man, it was good to see Jane. Period. Friendship comes to us and we choose what to do with it. Do we forget it? Do we nurture it? Do we take it for granted? Do we embrace it? I'd like to be the type of person who cherishes it and relishes the amazingly, unique qualities that make my friends special. Hey, if you are reading this right now, you are probably my friend. Thanks. You may not have goats, but you are still pretty great. :)
It was a beautiful Fall weekend in Minnesota. My good buddy Sunny and I had a little hang time on Sunday where we skipped about town and partook in some of my best activities. Oh, and her real name is not Sunny. I'm just protecting her identity before I place a smattering of images containing her face all over the world wide web. Aren't I nice?One cannot unleash devilish hi-jinks and general mayhem on unsuspecting citizenry on an empty stomach. Thus, our first stop was brunch at 20.21. Not your standard greasy spoon, 20.21 is Wolfgang Puck's white table cloth restaurant at the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis. Typically, you might me and my crew at places like Hot Plate or The Egg and I, but not today. Today was a different day. Today was special. Today, Sunny had a gift certificate and we were aiming to cash it in. Yee Haw!! A $30 per plate brunch buffet is no problem when you have a gift certificate. On a scale from 1 to 10 with 1 being 'god awful I think I got e-coli' and 10 being 'ultimate deliciousness so good I would sell my soul for some more,' I would rate 20.21's brunch as a ho-hum 7.5. The service and setting were posh, no doubt. The sugar and creamer set were aesthetically pleasing, sparse and modern architecturally inspired tableware. The food was just o.k. It's the kind of place you take out-of-town guests if you want to impress them with your fine taste and disregard for the current economic recession. For all others, might I suggest the McCafe at McDonald's?But, where else can you go for Sunday brunch and see a cool, stylized picture of Mao? Well, maybe China, but not in MN . . .
After eating our fill of fancy food, we hit the sculpture garden. It was here that we practiced our superhero powers. If you don't believe me, just take a look. We lifted heavy spoons with huge cherries:
Then we undertook deadly kung fu maneuvers. Remember kids, don't try this at home:
SCARY! Shortly after frightening small children and fluffy pets with our stealth and cunning, we changed out of our capes and tights and picked up some Caribou. That's right. We grabbed not one, but two Caribous with our bare hands. Sarah Palin, eat your heart out. Sunny's so tough, she got herself a large one!
As weariness crept upon us, our adventures took us to picturesque Minnehaha Falls. We kicked back just soaking up the lovely Fall scenery. Again, more hero powers were put to the test as we listened in on the private conversations of several park patrons. It isn't our fault. The acoustics are crazy and sometimes people don't talk as softly as they should. I will spare you these final pictures. But, rest assured, the day was glorious. Thanks for the good times Sunny. I had a blast!
Drinking divine cocktails at a swankified bar made entirely of ice, now that is MY BEST!
So, this weekend I was fortunate enough to have a gaggle of my wonderful friends join me in celebrating my soon-to-be nuptials by taking me out for one last proverbial hoorah otherwise known as a bachelorette party. I've heard these types of things referred to by other names -- stagette party, hen party . . . I'm not really sure what the correct term is, but I do know that mine was a whole martini shaker full of fun. I have the BEST sister. Really, I do. She organized the whole darn thing from top to bottom and it was a blast.
Now, back to this bar made from ice. Seriously. It is. If you are ever in downtown Minneapolis in the middle of a frigid Minnesota winter you really must check this place out. It is at the Chambers hotel. Here are some pictures to show you first, how terrific this place looks and, second, how incredibly drunk I was. YIKES. Good thing very few people read this blog. This could make for some incriminating evidence.
