For many Minnesotans, heading south for a
winter break is as natural as going "up to the lake" in the summer.
Which southern sojourn did Momma Cuandito and I consider this season?
The list of possibilities included Mexico, the Caribbean, Arizona and
Florida. Even Cuba got a mention. We chose Iowa. It's more than where
the tall corn grows.
Decorah. For
several years we passed through Decorah when our daughter, Jill,
attended Loras College in Dubuque. Both of those cities reside on US
Highway 52. Usually we zipped through, or even by-passed, Decorah in
our hurry either to get to Jill or to return home, but on those few
occasions when we did make a stop in Decorah, including once for a swim
meet when Jill swam for the Duhawks against Luther College, we
recognized it as a town worth visiting. In addition to Luther, this
small city is home to two other well known points of interest, the
Vesterheim Museum and Toppling Goliath Brewing Company.
We
arrived early on a Monday afternoon and checked into our Air B&B,
Vossheim. Located on a residential street a few minutes south of
downtown, Vossheim is owned by a friend, Linda, whose mother lived in
that house for ten years. The Norwegian word "heim" means "house," and
"Voss" refers to the family's ancestral village back in the homeland.
The one-level rental quarters features two bedrooms, one and a-half
bathrooms, a huge updated kitchen and a comfortable living room. Flying
in the breeze outside the front door is the flag of Norway.
My
inclination is to make Toppling Goliath our first stop, but we both
acknowledge the folly of such a plan. It just might be too hard to
leave. So instead, we decide to check out what downtown has to offer.
The main drag in Decorah is Water Street, "not Main Street" as a
few locals advised us. For a small city, Decorah's shopping district
along Water Street extends for more blocks than I would have guessed.
It kind of reminds me of Galena, Illinois, a regional shopping mecca,
although Decorah is smaller. Most of the buildings lining Water Street
are dark brown two story structures, housing gift shops, clothing
stores, art galleries, book stores, cafes, bars and banks. Oh boy,
there is no shortage of banks. The money must be rolling in from many
of the hundreds of nearby farm families. Radio station KVIK plays
classic rock from its studio across the street from the Vesterheim at
the west end of Water. Shades of American Graffiti? The Winneshiek
Hotel is the place to stay if you're looking for conveniently classic
lodging.
It is not hard to spend half a day
downtown, and that's not even including the Vesterheim, which is on our
agenda for tomorrow. Since I became a grandparent I have developed an
entirely new outlook on shopping. My old strategy, pre-grandkids, would
be to suck down a beer or two in a bar while Momma Cuan visited the
stores. Now, I actually go into many of the stores with her, not to
shop for myself but to see if there's any potential purchase with the
beautiful granddaughters in mind. It isn't until that curiosity has
been satisfied that I step outside and wait for my better half.
After
popping into a few Water Street stores like Modish, Revelation,
J.Tupy's and Margaret's, it's at last time to quench our thirst. The
lucky denizens of Decorah are blessed with two microbreweries. So many
brews yet, for us, so little time. We decide to save Pulpit Rock for
another visit -- I'm confident there will be one -- and make a beeline
for Toppling Goliath, just across the bridge spanning the Upper Iowa
River from downtown.
Walking into Toppling
Goliath, we immediately sense a cozy atmosphere. We sit at the small
bar, as is our custom in any tavern, and it doesn't take long for the
fellow next to me to ask where we are from. Did our Minnesota accents
give us away, or are we the only strangers in the bar? I suspect the
latter. It turns out the inquisitor knows the same family that owns our
b & b; that family, the Istads, also owned the Whippy Dip ice cream
stand in town.
My pre-trip research for
Toppling Goliath has consisted of reading a 2015 article from the
Chicago Tribune, in which it was reported that a Beer Advocate survey
named seven TG beers among the top one hundred in the world. Another
website, RateBeer, calls TG's Kentucky Brunch the "second best beer in
the world." I am not too disappointed that Kentucky Brunch is not
available during our visit, because its style, imperial coffee stout
aged in whiskey barrels, isn't one of which I'm fond. I do find a few
draughts to my liking today, particularly an American pale titled Pseudo
Sue. I wouldn't know a citra hop if it was sitting right in front of
me, but its refreshing taste is the keynote to the delectable Pseudo
Sue. Momma Cuan hedges her bets by ordering a flight of six small pours
of different offerings.
We strike up a
conversation with a couple at the bar who tell us they live within
walking distance of both TG and Pulpit Rock. Location, location,
location! I am envious. When they ask how we'd found out about the TG
tap room, I show them the Tribune article, pointing out that the story
includes reference to a husband and wife, Tim and Carol Stoddard, whose
practice is to bring growlers of TG beer with them on road trips to
share in other breweries' tap rooms. The couple laugh and inform us,
"Yeah, we are Tim and Carol."
Our fellow
beer drinkers are quick to offer their suggestions on Decorah
restaurants for us to have dinner. Some even call a place or two to
determine if they are open on Monday; others give us directions.
The
downtown bistro, La Rada, is our choice. There, we are seated at the
room's best table, tucked into a nook next to a ten foot high bay
window. The outdoor Christmas season scene, with a light snow falling
against a twilight sky, could be a postcard. We enjoy everything about
our dining experience, from the tatted up server who totally digs our
desire to ease through cocktails before ordering, to the hum of
conversation among fellow diners, to Mary's penne with lamb and my flank
steak.
Back at Vossheim, I magnanimously tell
Mary that we should watch the last hour of her favorite show, The Voice,
instead of the Monday Night Football Game. The fact that Vossheim's
cable TV package does not include ESPN has absolutely nothing to do with
my suggestion.
***
Our
first stop Tuesday morning is back downtown to Impact Coffee on
Washington Street, next door to La Rada. I have been to dozens of
coffee shops in the Twin Cities, and I would place Impact right up there
with the best of them. The space is divided into two rooms. The front
is equipped like NASA's Mission Control in Houston. You must need an
advanced mechanical engineering degree to know how to use all their
heavy duty coffee brewing gizmos. We settle for lattes and a couple of
scrumptious apricot almond scones that melt in our mouths. An artsy
arch between Corinthian columns separates the front room from the back,
where all the comfy chairs are found. Colorful paintings by local
artists adorn the walls of both sections. If we weren't headed for the
Vesterheim, I would camp out on one of Impact's sofas for sure.
The Vesterheim is the
national Norwegian-American museum, hosting over 24,000 artifacts. The
main building, which is the only one of the twelve open year round, is
spread over four levels in a grand old brick structure. The English
translation of the museum's name is "western home." The first floor
focuses on the life that the Norwegians had before emigrating to the
States. Because of their rural cold weather environment, it was a hard
existence. On top of that, their government imposed many restrictions
which they were eager to escape by heading across the Atlantic. The
first to do so was a group of fifty-three brave souls in a fifty-four
foot sloop christened the Restauration, on which they sailed west in
1825. A large replica of the Restauration and two other ships are
displayed on Vesterheim's first floor. One of those other ships is the
actual Trade Wind (not a replica), the twenty-five foot vessel sailed to
America in 1933 by the Hamran brothers, Harald and Hans. Ships like
the Restauration were crowded, limiting the physical possessions the new
settlers could bring with them to the new land. The museum teaches us
that the most valuable assets those people had were not what they could
stuff in a trunk. Rather, it was their stories, artistic and mechanical
talents, music, recipes and other elements of their Nordic culture
which now live on, two centuries later.
The
second floor picks up the narrative once the Norwegians have reached the
New Land. Two of the museum's most interesting displays are houses
located on the first two floors showing a typical family residence both
in the old country (on the first floor) and in America (second floor).
The Norwegians were expert craftsmen, as evidenced by the many pieces of
furniture in the museum. Cabinets, tables, desks, chairs, stools, and
wardrobe chests are just some of the items housed at Vesterheim. The
folk art known as rosemaling, the practice of decorative painting, adds
appeal to things like headboards, walls, lampshades, table tops, picture
frames, even refrigerator doors. The early Norwegians were also master
wood carvers and jewelry designers. Hundreds of those artifacts are
displayed nicely on the second floor.
The third
floor is primarily devoted to beautiful textiles, while the basement
level concentrates mostly on military exhibits. A fascinating narrative
describes how many young Norwegian men were drawn into the War Between
The States, fighting for both sides, even though they were new to the
country and did not share the passions which drove most of their fellow
soldiers. Another basement exhibit details the 99th Infantry Battalion
in World War II. This battalion, comprised of about a hundred Norwegian
Americans, were expert skiers and mountaineers who helped liberate
Norway from Nazi control.
Once we are inside
the Vesterheim gift shop, it is hard to leave. I could spend an entire
paycheck -- if I had a paycheck -- going crazy buying fabulous sweaters,
knit stocking hats, books, dolls, games, toys and souvenirs. As you
might expect in this town heavily populated by Norwegians, there are
entire sets of Ole and Lena cards with humor in varying degrees of
taste, good and bad. Exercising a little self discipline, we escape
without too much damage to our pocketbooks.
For
lunch we decide on a place recommended to us last night by our new
friends from Toppling Goliath. It's the Good Times Grill, located just
down the College Drive slope from TG. Good Times is what I would call a
nice sports bar, if such a label is not an oxymoron. I am impressed
with their food choices, and end up with a chili and tacos combo. My
gold standard for chili has been Pecos River Hot from the Loon in
Minneapolis. (The Loon's menu description for their Pecos River is, "No
beans, no B.S.") I am happy to report that Good Times' recipe edges
closer to the Loon's than 90% of all the other chili I've had. My only
disappointment with Good Times is that I am unable to sample the beer
from their ample list, due to this afternoon's travel plans.
Speaking
of beer, our last stop before we head out of Dodge is to return to TG
to pick up a couple of bombers for our birthday boys, Luke (November 26)
and Michael (November 28.) Being risk-averse, I choose Pseudo Sue
which, based on last night's experience, I know the young lads
will enjoy. I also pick up a tall boy four pack of Golden Nugget, one
of TG's two widely acclaimed IPAs (the other one being Intergalactic
Warrior), for my own consumption. As we pull out of town I am proud of
myself for remembering to bring a cooler from home. Got to protect the
newly acquired precious cargo!
Iowa City.
I would be remiss if I did not give a tip of the hat to northeast
Iowa. This is not your father's farmland. Traveling south from Decorah
to Iowa City requires negotiating over ninety miles of country highway,
mostly on State Route 150, before hooking up with Interstate 80 near
Cedar Rapids for the last short leg. Although the crops have been
harvested long before this late November afternoon, there is no
mistaking the beauty of the rolling hills, the plentiful trees -- yes,
trees! -- and the well kept farm houses that dot the landscape. I can't
help but make the mental comparison of what we are viewing to the
northeast quadrant of North Dakota. There the land is flat, the farm
houses are miles apart, and the one tree is barely visible near the
horizon, about fifteen miles from the road. I love both parts of the
country, the undulating topography of Iowa and the wide open plains of
North Dakota. Public Service Announcement: If time permits, get off
the interstate and enjoy the view!
Now that I'm in the twenty-first paragraph of this post, I suppose it's about time I disclose the main
reason for our Iowa excursion. Since the turn of the century, the
Notre Dame women's basketball program, under the leadership of head
coach Muffet McGraw, has established itself as one of the top two in the
country, behind only perennial power UConn. This season the Irish are
ranked # 1 in the pre-season polls, and have won their first six games
so far. They have only one regular season game scheduled west of the
Mississippi River, and that happens to be against the Iowa Hawkeyes.
What better reason for us to head south? This will be the first time
Momma Cuan and I have ever seen an Irish Lassie game in person. Tip off
is tomorrow night in Carver Hawkeye Arena.
We
pull into Iowa City around 6:30 p.m., surprised Iowa City has any rush
hour at all, let alone one that extends past 6:00. We are reminded of
home as we come upon downtown, where construction has blocked several
streets and detour postings are everywhere. We are staying at the
Sheraton in the heart of downtown on the pedestrian mall.
Both
of us are in the mood for Italian food, and there are two ristoranti
within a few blocks. We select Baroncini, which we find out after the
fact from the hotel concierge is the preferred choice of the dual
option. (Don't ask why we checked with the concierge after, instead of before,
we ate; that's just how we roll.) My first impressions once inside the
place are (i) nice but unremarkable ambience, and (ii) wonderful aromas
pervading throughout. Pre-dinner cocktails seem like a good, even if
not novel, idea, so Momma Cuan chooses an Americano while I opt for a
Bloody Boulevardier, which is made with bourbon, campari and sweet
vermouth. After enjoying a few sips, our server inquires how I like the
drink, to which I respond positively. He is proud to announce that he
is the one who talked Baroncini's management into putting that
concoction on the cocktail menu.
Momma Cuan
enjoyed her hanger steak entre. I keep to my personal tradition of
ordering a pasta dish whenever I'm in an Italian restaurant. This time
it is agnolotti di Manzo. Molto buona! I am also impressed by the fact
that Baroncini has Moretti Rossa on tap. Not all Italian eateries do.
Our
final stop of the night is to locate a sports bar to check on the Notre
Dame vs. Iowa men's basketball game, which is being played in South
Bend as part of the ACC-Big 10 Challenge. We retrace our steps to the
pedestrian mall and land in Brothers, a chain-operated watering hole
across the street from our hotel. Apparently Hawkeye Mania has not
overtaken Iowa City, because only one of several TV screens is tuned to
the game on ESPN.
I find it interesting to note
the differences between the schools' veteran head coaches. Mike Brey,
the Irish boss, is about as congenial and easygoing as any coach in
Division 1. He rarely raises his voice, remaining calm even when a game
is unraveling. He is gracious with the media, possibly preparing for a
post-coaching career in broadcast journalism. Sometimes his announcer
buddies make fun of his attire -- he used to be known for his mock
turtlenecks -- and his recent "look," an unshaven countenance.
The
Iowa Hawkeyes are coached by Fran McCaffery who, like Brey, is fifty-seven years old. With his silver hair and expensive suits, McCaffery looks more like a Wall Street
banker than a gym rat. It's no real surprise that he holds an economics
degree from the Wharton School Of Business. I always enjoy watching
Fran in action because he is hot tempered and not afraid to pick up a
technical foul if he thinks his team needs a spark. He is the
quintessential feisty Irishman. McCaffery has a twofold Notre Dame
connection. He was an assistant coach at Notre Dame for eleven years,
starting in 1986. Also, his wife, the former Margaret Nowlin, was a
superior basketball player for the Irish. On this night, Fran's Irish
heritage, coaching resume and relationships do not provide him or his
team enough luck. The Hawkeyes are outmanned and fall to ND, 92-78.
