Pizza Farm

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.

Welcome to the Zombie Den

Medical update: Just finished my full course of antibiotics and things are looking up. My congestion, wheezing and general malaise have all calmed down and now I only sound moderately like a cat purring when I breathe. While I'm not ready to claim full victory over pneumonia, I feel as if I've turned the corner and got this infection on the run. Let's hope my re-visit next week confirms my amateur prognosis. I figure who needs years and years of medical school when you have watched as many House episodes as I have, right? Love that show. Love Hugh Laurie, but I digress.

When one is faced with the prospect of battling illness, the most immediate and logical step to take is celebration with cocktails and zombies -- not necessarily in that exact order. The best place, and perhaps only place, in Minnesota for said festivities is Donny Dirks Zombie Den in NE Mpls. This place used to be Stand Up Franks. No chairs or stools. People stood and drank their stiff drinks and they liked 'em that way, dammit. In the past year, the joint has been transformed into a hipster style palace to all things undead. The walls are covered in a smoky glass tile with the occasional zombie head sticking out for artistic effect. The dark scene stands punctuated with animal print carpet, flashy chandeliers and televisions playing re-runs of old (and not so old) zombie flicks. 28 Weeks Later happened to be on when we were there. The drink menu boasts such lovelies as The Dark and Stormy, a fine looking rum concoction, and the Voodoo Zombie. What is a Voodoo Zombie, you might ask? Well, according to our server "it is really a typical voodoo drink." What that means, I'm not really sure. It does have a lot of booze and an assortment of random fruit juices so I guess that is what voodoo drinks are all about.

It's a pretty cool place if you like to stare at zombie faces whilst you sip your libations. Who doesn't?

For a slightly different vibe, I would recommend La Belle Vie lounge or LBVL as the cool kids like to call it. I met my good friends Poodle and ALO there for an after work cocktail and man was it terrific. It feels very posh -- like upper West Side Manhattan townhome with a doorman kinda sophisticated. I was immediately taken with the interior and then I took a look at the drink menu. Their ubber mixologist, Johnny, laid down some delightful concoctions. My first was the Tangerine Sidecar. Yummy. Then I put myself in the capable hands of Johnny and asked for his recommendation. He poured up something called the Ides of Spring (I think that is what it was called) all mystifyingly good with some citrus and fresh ginger. Johnny, you had me at sidecar. If you are interested in reading more, check out this blog documenting the taste-by-taste trip through the LBVL drink menu. Funny!

I will certainly be visiting La Bell Vie again soon. It ranks as one of My Bests to be sure.

So, there you have it. My adventures in liquor are in no way an indication of a problem. I don't NEED to drink, I choose to drink. It's all medicinal really. Whatever the marvels of modern pharmacology don't kill, the bourbon and vodka, vermouth, cava and bitters are sure to take care of. That which does not kill me, only makes me stronger.

Puppy Love

Spotted this in the women's bathroom at Restaurant Max in Minneapolis and wanted to share. Stinkin cute doggy pic, dontcha think? I love how one ear is up and one is down. I think I will call him Pepe Montoya and I will sing ballads and create Haiku poems heralding his adorability to the world.

On second thought, that might be a tad much for a bathroom poster.

Practicing My Superhero Moves!

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!

Staycation Part Deux

The Staycation continues and what a glorious week it has been! In addition to hitting the gym and working on my fitness, I engaged in activities of leisure such as a blissful manicure and pedicure combo, happy hour at the Happy Gnome, shopping and lunch with friends. Ahhhhh . . . the good life.

When one has such a week of luxurious, carefree time on their hands, it is important to take advantage and attend to some medical and dental check-ups. Perfect health and wellness being right next to Godliness on the "Top 10 Aspirational Goals List" of 2008, I had to oblige and do my part. If you are wondering what #3 is, well, let's just say it might involve plastic surgery and a whole lot of suction . . . not going there right now. I'll leave that for my next Staycation.

In my quest for the holy grail of health, I took my first ever trip to the dermatologist. While I have never had the need or seen a reason to go to a skin specialist before, I was startled out of complacency by stories from friends and friends of friends. A fair-skinned lass with a sad history of blistering sunburns and biological predisposition to moles and freckles sealed the deal. When I made the appointment, I wasn't sure what to ask for? Should I request a check-up? A skin review? An ala carte special peel and graft? I just didn't have the lingo down at all. A colleague suggested I schedule a full body scan which, simply put, is a head to toe look at my epidermis. No stone was left unturned. After a thorough exam, I came to realize that I had a lot more going on in the skin department than I could have ever dreamed possible. What's that you say Dr. Cho? I have a touch of psoriasis on my scalp? Hmmm. I just thought it was a dry patch of skin. Guess not. Seasonal eczema on my hands? Check. Dermatitis with a "touch" of Rosacea on my face? Yep. Got it. Anything else? Well, just for fun let's throw in a couple suspicious looking moles that had to be removed. Good gravy and biscuits people. I'm a walking dermatological case study. Luckily the good doctor didn't diagnose Leprosy. This would have put me over the edge. No severely disfiguring and painful disease from biblical times, thankyouverymuch.

OK, so the whole mole removal thing was pretty easy. If others out there have experienced it, they can attest to this fact. A little shot of local anaesthetic and I didn't feel a thing. There was one slightly disturbing part -- the moment when my tiny wound was cauterized and the pungent smell of my own burning flesh hit my nostrils. Not good. Even worse was the thought, later provided by my darling sister . . . "just think, that was what you would smell if you were ever burned alive!" Great. Thanks!!

After my procedure, I had this compulsion to do a Google search on 'mole removal.' See I'm a bit of a hypochondriac and am always looking for the symptoms, signs and cautionary tales related to diseases and conditions which may or may not befall me. In my quick Internet query, I found a few interesting sites. One of which boasted this picture:

Ahhhhhhh!!!!! I meant mole on my skin, not mole in my garden. This was incredibly frightening. For a mere instant, I was worried my harmless skin moles may erupt and burst with sharp teethed, pointy nosed vermin like this. My anxiety released upon realizing Google was just confused. Whew. Relief. Then I pictured the movie Caddyshack. A golf course groundskeeper, played by a young Bill Murray, dueling it out with a wily gopher. In my mind, the gopher was transformed into his burrowing cousin, the mole. The mole became the small, dark dots on my skin and Dr. Cho was Bill Murray trying to eradicate them from reproducing and spreading their vermin seed across my torso, neck, arms and legs. AAAHHHHHHHHHHH.

The whole skin slicing, flesh burning, Internet searching, mole imagining, Caddyshack remembering was super trippy. Must have been a lethal combination of anaesthetic and Starbucks mocha in my system. Careful not to mix these boys and girls. It leads to bad, bad visuals.