Cheese Sandwiches and Beer

I've got lots of favorite places. I've got a favorite place in Milwaukee. I've got a favorite place in Taiwan. I've got a favorite place in Mexico City. And I've got a favorite place in Barcelona. I've even got a favorite place in lovely Doolin, Ireland.

But no favorite place is like my favorite place in Monroe, Wisconsin.

My favorite place in Monroe is the bomb. Or more like, "the Baum."

Of course, if you know Monroe, you know I am talking about the incomparable Baumgartner's Cheese Shop and Tavern - Wisconsin's oldest cheese store (1931). There's so much to love about Baumgartner's it's hard to know where to start, but picking one ... I'd have to say it's the cheese.  Why more places don't serve good cheese sandwiches, I don't know, but it's worth driving two hours from Milwaukee or Chicago to Monroe to dine on one of these beauties. Earlier today I ate one made from a thick slab of medium cheddar on light rye. Of course I had to upgrade it with hard salami and red onions and, at my own discretion, I slathered it up good with some stone ground mustard.

So simple you could make one right now in your own home. But, for whatever reason, it won't taste as good as one at Baumgartner's!

They also serve craft beers from nearby breweries like New Glarus, Ale Asylum and the very near (two blocks!) Huber. (I suggest not drinking TOO local, if you know what I mean.)

Besides the great cheese and beer, the ambiance and service is pure fun and classic Wisconsin. There must be $1,200 stuck to the ceiling and one young waiter will show you exactly how it's done. I dunno, they wrap a quarter into a dollar with a thumbtack or something. Give it a good hard whip and it sticks right up there. If you try, and in the process you knock some money down, it's yours to keep!

What took me to Monroe today was business. I traveled with a colleague who had never been to Monroe. At the end of our meeting, I said to the guy with whom we had just met, "You know, my coworker has never been to Monroe and there's a place that I need to take him."

Without a moment wasted, he said "You're taking him to Baumgartner's for a cheese sandwich and beer, aren't you."

"Yes," I said. "How'd you know?"

"EVERYBODY that visits Monroe goes to Baumgartner's for a cheese sandwich and beer!"

Well it's good to know that America hasn't swung completely to the corporate side and that they still recognize the quality, value and fun of a true American classic -- Baumgartner's.

My favorite.

Wisconsin State Fair -- My Happy Place

fair (fâr) - Moderately good; acceptable or satisfactory

Well maybe YOUR State Fair is, but not the Wisconsin State Fair. The Wisconsin State Fair is crunchy awesomeness wrapped on a stick and deep-fried to a golden, crispy brown.

I'm an unabashed and unapologetic lover of our fair. Most years I go between 3 and 4 times and this year (2013) was no exception - I've made it 3 times so far and since I'm writing this on the fair's final day ... who knows?

Simply put, I love the Wisconsin State Fair because it makes me happy.

We spent the entire day there yesterday and, I kid you not, after about 3 hours my face hurt I was smiling so much. Well, maybe it didn't "hurt," but I definitely felt smiling muscle fatigue. What could possibly make me smile so much? The list is long, but here's a condensed version:

- Music. I love live music. Whether it be a stadium-sized venue hosting Paul McCartney or a beer tent rocking to a Milwaukee cover band that has played together for more than 50 years (The Skunks), live music abounds and I never have a challenge finding something that delights me. Watching folks older than me (there's still a few!) dance and clap to The Skunks (currently known as The Larry Lynde Band) made me smile immensely. The rolling Matt's Family Band and The Who tribute band (Substitute) also rounded out a great day yesterday, but if you go today or next year, make sure you don't miss cover band extraordinaire, The Bobby Friss Band. Bobby puts on the best rockin' good time show in the land and he has played nightly at the Saz's stage for years. (A note to teetotalers: Beware. Bobby's more fun when you drink!)

- Food. For the most part I bypass the weird foods on sticks and go with my tried and true favorites. A few include a Usinger's Italian sausage slathered with peppers on a Miller's pretzel roll in the Wisconsin Products Pavilion, a Hungarian sausage sandwich from Rupena's and the deep-fried green beans from Krautland. But my absolute favorite and can't miss annual culinary treat is Mexican Corn in a Cup. I love this sweet, hot and tangy treat. It's fresh corn cut of the cob and slathered in mayonnaise and queso then topped with chili powder. This is available under the Milwaukee Mile grandstand and if there was only one food to eat at the fair, this would be my choice.

- Farm animals and culture. For a few hours each year it doesn't hurt to look at the animals that feed us and greet the hard-working people that care for these beasts. Studying the animals is some of the fun, but the real interesting study is the interaction between the farm kids from up north and the Milwaukee locals that come to see them. There's too few opportunities in the world to break down the walls that separate us, but when a young city dweller has a chance to come eye-to-eye with a swine and the 11-year old from Merrill that raises the animal, I can't help feeling that this is a step in the right direction.

- Beer. There's two great distinctions about Wisconsin State Fair beer: quantity and quality. To address the first, one can buy a beer EVERYWHERE on the grounds. You only need to take about 20 steps onto the grounds before you'll have a chance to buy a tall cool one, and when you're empty, you won't have a long walk to replenish your cup. Second, thanks to West Allis bar Benno's, beer nerds can now slake their thirst with some quality crafts at The Micro. Chances are if you're my friend and you're at the Fair, I'll bump into you at The Micro. The Sprecher landing on the north end of the grounds is also a good place to wrap your lips around a  local craft brew. (Related: Indiana, I understand your fair is dry. How can you stand it?!)

- People selling stuff. I know I'm in the minority here, but I love walking through the Exhibition Center and watching snake oil salesmen pitch their peelers, dicers, choppers and slicers. I (almost) never buy anything, but an hour watching this selling circus always entertains me.

- People watching. Face it, this is the reason many of you who go, go. You may even play State Fair Bingo. Men with 1:1 aspect ratios, women with Hello Kitty tattoos on their calves, mullets (you've played The Mullet Game, right? See a mullet first, slug your pal!), mustachioed ladies, baby stroller sightings after dark, etc. It's all here and spot 5 cultural anomalies in a row ... BINGO!!

Yep. The Wisconsin State Fair is my happy place. If you haven't gone in a while (I know quite a few of you that haven't), I suggest putting Xenophobia aside and returning with an open mind, heart and love of simple pleasures. It just may become your happy place too. :)

Milwaukee Music -- It's Up, and It's Good!

Quinn Scharber's Telecaster

There's many Milwaukeeans that could tell you a lot more about the local music scene than I could, but in the past few weeks I've seen a few of our up-and-coming bands and I must say, there's plenty to be encouraged about.

In no particular order or preference, here's a few that I've seen that require your attention...

Ethan Keller and the Ethan Keller Band

We caught these guys at Port Fish Day, 2013. Their music style is described at Ethan's website as Midwest Americana R&B. That's a music category that I've never heard of! Doesn't matter. Ethan's brand of music is smooth, melodic and expertly performed. Watching the band perform while standing in the Summer sun alongside Port Washington's lovely harbor, it would have taken a team of wild horses to drag me away. (Thanks for the reference, Mick and Keith.) Also, as a fan of the look of guitars as much as the sound of guitars, Ethan plays a few that are truly drool-worthy: a lime green Gretsch and ashen gray Gibson Hummingbird. Both ... WANT.



Hugh Bob and the Hustle

Total pros, these guys. Last Summer I had their self-titled album on near constant repeat. Hugh Bob, from Butternut, Wisconsin, makes high quality Americana music with a distinct Milwaukee touch.

Americana. Milwaukee. Milwaukeecana? What the heck -- if there can be Midwest Americana R&B, I don't see why there can't be a "Milwaukeecana" category!

By the way, what's a distinct Milwaukee sound, you ask? To me, Milwaukee has a long history of cleverly crafted Americana music. The reference list is long: Paul Cebar, The Mosleys, The Spanic Boys (I LOVED them; where'd they go?), Loyal Order of the Water Buffalo, John Sieger, BoDeans, and, of course, The Violent Femmes. There's many more, and that's not to say Hugh Bob and the Hustle sound like any of them, but they're cut from similar cloth and I mean that as a compliment of the highest order.



Vic+Gab

The way these two have been rolling up great press lately they scarcely need my endorsement, but I'm a sucker for melodic pop and their music hits me right in my sweet spot.

Thanks to our common appreciation of Milwaukee artist Dwellephant, I learned of the release of their 2012 EP, for which Dwellephant did the album cover art. I picked up the release and instantly fell in love with it. I played it often in 2012 and continued to do so right up until their 2013, full-length release "Love of Mine."

There's a lot to like about Vic+Gab. They write great melodies, play expertly, sing lovely and they're very nice people; however, there is an unsung hero in the band: drummer Jesus Enrique Nañez. I often find my ears listening to his rhythms as much as the vocals, guitar and bass. His drumming reminds me a bit of Ringo Starr's. The Beatles claimed that Pete Best's heavy-footed drumming prevented their music from growing and living. When they heard Ringo playing in another Liverpoolian band, they knew he was their man. I imagine Vic+Gab must've had another drummer before Jesus--I don't know--but without question Jesus's drumming gives the music of Vic+Gab wings like Ringo's gave those three other guys'.

Here's another endorsement: I watched Vic+Gab yesterday while standing alongside Milwaukee music legend Paul Cebar. Throughout the entire show Mr. Cebar was smiling and toe-tapping. I said to him near show's end, "If you like it, it must be good," and he replied, "They're great. I love it!"



Also, I've yet to see this band that I've only heard of a few hours ago, but Buffalo Gospel has instantly grabbed my aural attention. Their new album "We Can Be Horses" dropped July 27th and is quite lovely.

Lastly, Trapper Schoepp & The Shades and Ivy Spokes are making great original music too. The only reason I'm not dedicating a paragraph to each of them is typing fatigue. (My right hand is in a cast; all functions normally carried out by 4 fingers are now entirely being carried out by my thumb!)

Gonna take this blog out with a great Nick Lowe song covered by Paul Cebar. Enjoy.

Put a Sock In It, William Shatner

William Shatner, you sucker puncher, you.

You see, I've used that service you shill (Priceline) many times, and most often I've come away pleased, but this time, William, you got me. You upper-cut me right in the rib cage when I wasn't looking.

I travel a lot for business. Many times, when the work is done and all I've got to do is fly home the next morning, I'll log on to Priceline and use their "Name Your Own Price" feature. Generally I'll pick a city center so I can walk the town and do a little exploring. I've done this in Hartford, Chicago, San Francisco (twice) and Baltimore.

You treated me really well in Baltimore and San Francisco, Bill. The Marriott overlooking Camden Yards during an Orioles game was a particularly nice touch. Thanks for that.

But then Buffalo happened. You placed me in that stinkin' Adam's Mark. Seriously, Bill, what were you thinkin'? Three Stars?! You're getting senile, I think.

Checking in I was going to give you a break. I overlooked the broken sign lights and the non-working parking gate, but once inside ... that's when the real fun happened.

The room key system was down. I got checked in, but then had to be escorted to me room by security so they could let me in. Maybe that's not the worst thing, but others needed to get to their rooms too, so we had to wait. And wait. And wait.

Within 5 seconds of entry into my room, I spotted something that did belong to me ... or the hotel. Bill, I kid you not, there was a single dirty sock slung over the left armrest of the office chair. Yours after a hard night of drinking, I presume, Shat-man?

And the beds. There were two of them. One looked nice, but the other, Bill -- I could've sworn I could still see your arm hanging out from underneath the covers.  I checked - you weren't there. It was just messy.

I unpacked my stuff and headed for the bathroom. WHOA, BILL. Aim to please, please. Or at the very least, take a seat. I mean, sheesh, did you get ANY in the pot? It sure smells like you didn't!

I had to get out of this joint before I got sick, so I left the inn and did some exploring. I had a nice time, but when I returned, again, I had to endure the wait.

At least, Shat, you had the courtesy to leave me one comfortable bed and a working alarm clock, but, please, next time before you do this to me, Bill, at least buy me dinner first.

Paul McCartney -- Out There in Milwaukee

A few thoughts on Paul McCartney's 2013 "Out There" tour stop at Miller Park in Milwaukee, Wisconsin...

It took me nearly 35 years, but roughly 10 years ago I irrevocably became a fan of The Beatles. It was due to an anniversary celebration of the release of Rubber Soul. Numerous contemporary artists cut a track-for-track tribute of Rubber Soul and were being interviewed on NPR. One artist, Rhett Miller -- the frontman for the Old 97's -- talked about how significant that album was to him and how he still regularly enjoyed listening to it

It got me thinking ... I don't know The Beatles' work linearly. Up to that point, I just knew their muddled mass of work as one jumbled entity. I didn't know if I Wanna Hold Your Hand was on the same album as Revolution #9.

So I started squarely in the middle: I bought a copy of Rubber Soul and fell in love with it. It may have been 35 years old, but it sounded fresh and surprisingly modern to me.

Rubber Soul was the album that diverted The Beatles off their always-writing-songs-that-contain-the-words-Love-and-You trajectory.

I followed with Revolver and then continued to procure albums in the order they released them until Let It Be - their last.

That was a GREAT way to learn and appreciate The Beatles -- who recorded ALL of that wonderful music in a span less than 9 years!

I didn't have a favorite Beatle; they all played a role in giving them a sound and style that was uniquely "The Beatles." However, after 46 years on this planet, it's hard to deny that one Beatle's footprint is bigger than any others': the catchy, hummable and instantly recognizable tunefulness of the music produced by Paul McCartney.

So it was with great eagerness that I went into his stadium-sized concert at Milwaukee's Miller Park with 45,000 others. I was going to see a man knighted by the Queen of England, a man noted as the wealthiest musician in the world, a man who wrote the riffs that I practiced for hours on end with my guitar, a man credited with writing the most played song in the history of recorded music (Yesterday), a man who has inspired anybody who is anybody in music today.

I was going to see a Beatle. Or as my pal Tony said it, "I am going to see a fucking Beatle!"

But here's the thing: despite all those great reasons to see a Paul McCartney show, what struck me most was his very visible virtuosity. I guess I knew it was there all along, but somehow I had forgotten that gift he had for being able to play nearly any instrument and make it look easy.

Watching the legend on the big screen and stage, I was captivated by his talent the way I would be if I was watching a one-legged unicycler juggle chain saws while balancing a toaster on her nose.  Despite the fame, wealth, sweltering heat and 45,000 person crowd, at the heart of it all was Paul McCartney's music and incredible ability.

Guitar, bass, piano, ukulele and, of course, his great voice - he makes it appear effortless.

Plus, he made it appear effortless for THREE hours and never took a drink of water! (He probably took a little sip at the first encore, which was at least two and a half hours in.) Seventy-one or twenty-one, that's one hell of a feat!!

So with that said and a day's reflection passed, I'd have to say that was the best concert I have ever attended. It wasn't inexpensive, but in no way do I feel cheated out of even a single penny. In fact, if he came back to Miller Park next week, I'd gladly fork over the dough to na, na, na, na, Hey Jude with Sir Paul once again.

Concert rating: 5 Hofner basses out of 5.

P.S. It didn't hurt that Live and Let Die was the most bombastic, loud and visually assaulting song I have ever seen performed in concert either. ;)

Rockin' to New Politics at Summerfest

Photo from New Politic's website

Looking at the Summerfest schedule, there's always bands you know and bands you don't know. Yesterday
we attended the show of a band we don't know and, damn, was it fun!

Entering the midgate for our first Summerfest experience of 2013, my wife and I veered left. The first stage that we encountered live music at was the U.S. Cellular Connection Stage. There, the band Tristen was just finishing their last song.

As they played their last note and pleaded fans to come meet them at the "merch" tent, the skies opened up and it poured buckets of rain. We faded back to the beer stand and took cover under a small umbrella and a  tiny overhang.

As we sipped our beer and looked out at the downpour, we spied a hundred or so young fans rush the U.S. Cellular Stage to get a good view for the next band. I fumbled with my phone to find out who the next band was.

"Hmm. New Politics. Never heard of 'em," I thought. "But they sure have a committed group of young fans to stand in the rain like that."

When the rain lightened up, we wandered the over to the new Johnson Controls World Sound Stage. There was nice rain protection at this stage, but frankly, it was crowded and African drum music just wasn't cutting it for me. After a few minutes, I said to my wife, "Let's go find out what's so good about New Politics that would make all those kids wait in the pouring rain."

Once we made it to the furthest bench away from the stage, we sensed it immediately: NEW POLITICS

Kay rocks in the rain
to New Politics

ROCKED! Oh man, they rocked hard. We were old enough to be most of these kids' parents, but that didn't prevent us from moving up one bench at a time to get a better view throughout the next rockin' hour.

We had never heard any of these songs before, but by show's end our voices were hoarse from singalongs and our arms were tired from the waving, clapping and one-armed alligator chomping. This 3-piece band out of Denmark really knows how to put on a show, and within their act, I could sense the influence of so many bands before them: U2, The Cult, Nirvana and rap music in general are all part of their eclectic swirl of rhythm, melody and presence.

When the show was over and we were exchanging our "Wow. Can you believe how good that was?!" commentaries, we encountered a fellow much older than us in a rain poncho. This man, I'd put him in his mid 60s, said to us, "Those kids sure know how to rock!" and we did a fist bump.

That, my friends, is precisely why I love Summerfest.

Check out this song from New Politics. If I understand correctly from the lead singer, it is currently #5 on the Alternative Singles chart. I haven't looked it up to see if it was true or not, but the video sure is cool!

The Exploding Toilet Story

Please note: Read no further if you still wish to respect me in the morning. Thank you. 

The day started well enough. Lake Michigan was like glass as we glided over its smooth surface aboard the Lake Express high-speed ferry. I was on my way to a business meeting near Grand Rapids, Michigan, departing Milwaukee on the 6 a.m.

The ferry ported and when I disembarked I had a little less than 2 hours until my meeting--more than enough time to make way towards a Muskegon area Starbucks, enjoy a cup of coffee, check some emails and properly prepare for a meeting of an undetermined length, if you know what I mean. (Long distance runners, you KNOW what I mean.)

Starbucks found, I paid no attention to the municipal utility vehicles parked in the street out front as I pulled into the parking lot. I parked my rental, grabbed my briefcase and made a beeline for the Men's room. Within, I set my briefcase in the corner furthest from the commode and prepared to answer Mother Nature's call.

No sooner had I relinquished control of those physiological faculties that separate adult humans from infants, I felt water on my backside. My first thought was that this toilet must have an automatic flush and somehow I had triggered it.

"Oh oh," I thought. "Let's hope it's nothing too, um, violent."

Five seconds after that thought, water sprung forth by the gallon between my legs and shot across to the opposite side of the restroom wall. I'm not sure if I was ejected from the pot or instinctively tightened my muscles and popped off of it, but a second later, I stood in the corner of the room, pants at ankle level, protecting my briefcase from the muddy spray bursting forth.

It was happening: the American business traveler's worst nightmare.

I watched in horror as the raging beast continued to blast excrement against the walls and floors. In fact, with such great force that even the ceiling became moistened. I was trapped in perpetuity in a 6' x 6' tiled room that was raining organic waste collected from the fine folks of Fruitport Township, Michigan.

When you're stuck in that position, you can never be quite certain how much time is passing. After what I'm guessing was most of two minutes, Ol' Faithful had finally subsided. Now to collect myself and figure out what to do. Some details are better left unwritten, but there was still a working sink and soap dispenser, so that seemed a good place to start.

I cleaned up the best I could and returned my trousers to their upright position causing a sensation that I hope never to feel again: sewage water drenched pants and shirt against my bare legs and back.

I knew the path from the restroom door was short, and there was only one table nearby. My goal was to get outside as deftly as possible, but also grab the attention of an employee and let them know that we had a situation here.

As luck would have it, the table nearest the door was hosting a meeting of three employees. I darted past and asked "You guys work here?" One fellow said "Yes," and I summoned him to join me outside.

He gave me a look that I'll remember for the rest of my life. It was one of those "What kind of a nut is this?" looks.

As I explained what had happened to me "in there," he continued to look at me with doubting suspicion, but he did ask what he could do to help.

I said, "Well, I came here to get a coffee. How 'bout we start with that?"

"Certainly," he said and went in to retrieve my drink.

I can only imagine what he said to the other employees in those ensuing moments. I bet they still talk about it today! (Remember that one time when a customer was trapped in a poop fountain in our restroom? Ha ha ha!)

A moment after he returned with my coffee, another employee popped out of the door and said, "It happened in the Women's room, too! And now the water is running into the restaurant from underneath the door!"

Thank you, women's restroom plumbing situation, for verifying that my story was true and proving that I wasn't just some clod who plugged the Men's room toilet and made of a mess of myself in effort to get a free coffee.

Now fully realizing the situation, the Starbucks team was nothing but commendable. They pointed across the parking lot to a shopping mall where I could buy some new clothes. If I did so, I could return with the receipt and they would fully reimburse me. As I put my stuff into the car and headed over to Younkers, I could see the manager head over to the utility workers in the street to find out just what the heck was going on.

Over at Younkers I explained the situation after I picked out some new under garments, a shirt and slacks. The lady who helped me was great, too. She cleared my items of pins and stickers and hung them on a rack where she expertly steamed them. When I walked out, I looked like a million bucks. Well, a million and $71 actually, because $71 was the price of my new threads.

Back at Starbucks they promptly reimbursed me and we had a bit of a chuckle over it. The manager said the utility worker said, "Gee, I've never heard of that happening before!" In addition to buying my new clothes, they gave me a few coupons for free coffees.

That was really great of Starbucks. It really wasn't their fault, but they went out of the way to help a traveling customer trapped in a most unfortunate situation. The Younkers attendant, too, was wonderful.

So how's that for an traveler's story? My new clothes are nice, but I'd prefer never to have had to buy them in that manner!

Related: I wrote the above a few days ago, but today I received a call from Fruitport Township's Utilities Manager expressing his sincere apologies for the unfortunate incident. He said that the next time I'm in Fruitport, I should give him a ring and lunch is on Fruitport. That's very nice.

Related II: No major harm was done and looking back at this nearly 2-week old story, I find it pretty darn funny. What would you do in the same situation?