Saturday

Here's a funny thing about food: unless you were born into unfortunate circumstances, with food deprivation and poverty nipping at your heels all your childhood years, chances are high that you have very sweet and warm childhood food recollections. You remember with utter clarity and wistfulness the special baked goods that occasionally made it to your home. You love the scent, the texture of very specific treats, whether baked in your kitchen, or admired in the shop window, or savored at the local cafe or diner. I dont care if it's key lime pie with a glass of milk, or peach cobbler with a wallop of ice cream, or a slice of Sacher torte with hot chocolate, or Polish paczki from your favorite Polish pastry shop -- if you had them in your childhood, even in an otherwise miserable or indifferent childhood, you're going to think back one day and say -- oh, that was so good! I could just taste the flakiness/creaminess/deliciousness of it all!

I feel that way about Polish baked goods -- not ones from my home, since no one baked anything in our kitchen (my grandma baked, but that's a whole 'nother story), but ones from any number of local bakeries. I have exquisite memories of poppy seed cakes, cheese cakes, cream filled pastries, and of course -- of paczki. Polish doughnuts.

In this country, Christians celebrate Fat Tuesday as the day before Ash Wednesday which starts Lent, right? So you go all out in your indulgences on Fat Tuesday, which this year falls on February 12th. Poles give themselves a few more days to go hog wild. They celebrate Fat Thursday, a whole week before Ash Wednesday. Fat Thursday happens to fall on February 8th this year. Thus on this coming Thursday, there will be long lines before bakeries, as Poles stock up on fresh paczki (Polish doughnuts) and faworki (which are sweet fried twists of pastry, sprinkled with powdered sugar). 

I have never found a bakery here that does paczki well. Or at least in the way that would satisfy a Pole. But today, my daughter sent me a link to one in Chicago and I spent a wonderful hour studying its offerings, all the while feeling myself to be in a Proustian trance as I remembered the comforting delicious pastries of my Polish adolescent years.

But first, I did the morning chores...

("who are you callin' "chores?!")

And shared breakfast with our Breakfast Cat (she never comes "to the table" except for breakfast!)...

 

Unfriendly. That's what we initially called her when she appeared in the litter of another stray (remember Stop Sign? The mother cat that brought us nearly all the cats that live now on farmette lands?). She ran away from us, from everything, and everyone. The name stuck. But do you see how stately and regal she is? I swear she has noble blood pulsating in her veins. Too, such perfect posture! And yet, she is an outlier. She has been banished by her sibs from the sheep shed (where five of the cats hang out). Who knows why. She doesn't even try anymore. At the same time, Dance, the grande dame of them all (and her half sib) adores her and her alone. Unfriendly is skittish. She is so skittish! Lift your hand suddenly and she runs! And yet. She fights intruders like no other. Poor Pancake, the newest interloper, has wounds from battles with her. And of course, she loves us. Tentatively, hesitantly, because we're humans and humans terrify her. But she comes in and especially at breakfast time but not only, she purrs with contentment if we rub her cheeks just so.

 

Next: I take Blue Moon to be serviced at the local Subaru dealer.

They were short staffed. It took forever just to check the car in. But, the Subaru service center is not unlike the Trek e-bike service center -- they pride themselves at being "your friend" and doing right by you, so the gracious rep gave me a loaner for the weekend -- same model, the CrossTreck, but a brand new version of it. (My "new" car is now three years old.)

I was stunned at how much had been updated in this newer model. No more nobs. It's all screen now. And on the one hand I'm thinking -- wow, this technology burst is impressive, and on the other hand I'm thinking -- so this is where we put our efforts. Into cars. We could have impressive trains improving on their technology every year. We dont have that. But we do have the cars... Food for thought. Not paczki food, just regular old nourishment...

It's sunny outside. The kind of February day that fills you with energetic joy. We go out and bike. (Do you see that sky??)

I can't say that we leap to it. There is still something magically comfy at home. The sun streams in, the fridge hums. Had we a ticking clock, it would tick rhythmically, we would doze. Well, Ed dozes anyway. Half the time I look up his eyes are closed. 

But we do eventually rouse ourselves and yes, it is beautiful outside. About 40F (nearly 5C), but what a difference a ray of sunshine makes!

Totally splendid to ride those paths and rural roads.

As always, we pause by Lake Waubesa. It's mostly frozen, but if you watch carefully, you see those who tread out far are treading through slush. It seems so unsafe, and yet, there they are...

It amazes me that people can enjoy spending many hours just sitting on ice. I come home from a silly bike ride, with only scant patches of snow to my side, and it takes me a while to get the chill out of my legs. I think of myself as winter hardy, but these fisher people are way in a different league of Wisconsin hardiness.

At home, I think about concocting an aperitivo of Campari (from Milan), Sirene Bitter (from the Lake Garda region), Torino Vermouth, and Prosecco. A Northern Italian sort of Negroni Sbagliato. I earned it, don't you think? Followed by a very full bowl of chili. Winter perfection!

With love...