Smithtown on NPR.

A classmate of mine from high school (and junior high, and elementary school, dating back to 2nd grade) appeared on NPR’s All Things Considered today, in a segment about Dolly Parton’s song “Jolene.” Mindy Smith – who also shares my birthday – recorded a version of the song for a Dolly Parton tribute album in 2004, and Parton herself said it was her favorite of the 30-odd covers of the song. (You can buy the mp3 on amazon.com.)

And while I’m pimping NPR, the first segment of today’s Diane Rehm Show, “The International Response to the Financial Credit Freeze”, was an outstanding listen, with a ratio of reason to rhetoric that approached infinity. Nobody screaming about the Dow dropping to 5000 or an imminent depression – just serious analysis of what’s happened, what might happen, and what should happen.

Oh, and Casey Weathers left tonight’s game holding his elbow.

Thursday chat.

Aaaaand we’re back. Apparently some morons thought that meadowparty.com was a political site, so they defaced the main page. Therefore, I intend to vote for whichever candidate takes the hardest line on moron hackers.

I’ll be chatting early Thursday, at 11 am EDT, and probably for only 45 minutes to an hour.

The Sot-Weed Factor.

John Barth’s The Sot-Weed Factor (on the TIME 100) is a spot-on parody of the picaresque novel, a genre that includes Klaw 100 entries Tom Jones and The Pickwick Papers, novels with wide-ranging comical adventures running to seven or eight hundred pages. The style had been out of favor for well over a century at the time that Barth began work on his magnum opus in the late 1950s, and in satirizing it Barth also managed to imbue his work with a strain of social commentary and of symbolism that the earlier works often lacked.

The book’s unusual title comes from a real poem of the same name, written by Ebenezer Cooke, an English poet who sought himself to satirize the culture and society of the Province of Maryland, about whom little was known at the time that Barth decided to build a false history/biography of the man. “Sot-weed” was another name for tobacco, and a factor is, of course, a middleman in the trade of tangible goods. Barth takes Cooke and makes him into the poet laureate of Maryland, a man bent on preserving his innocence even as he is caught up in various political, military, and criminal intrigues that involve him, his twin sister, the fallen prostitute who is the object of his affections, and his childhood tutor, the shapeshifting Henry Burlingame. Many of these machinations are apparently at the whim of the God-like Lord Baltimore and the Satanic sociopath John Coode, although their appearances in the novel are oblique, to put it mildly.

In great picaresque style, Barth takes Ebenezer from his childhood to his dissolute days of drinking and idleness in London and then sets in motion a Rube Goldberg-like chain of events that lead him into and out of such troubles as marriage, kidnapping, bankruptcy, various threats to life and limb, the loss of his father’s estate, and endless encounters with impostors, not to mention at least three people who pretend to be Ebenezer when he’s not around to defend his name. Like most picaresque novels, The Sot-Weed Factor starts to drag in its final third, but Barth rallies for a slam-bang finish with a sham trial, the exposure of the frauds that remain on the table, and the settlement of all of the loose ends still untied, all set in motion by another pair of coincidences (a standby of the genre) that put Ebenezer and two of his comrades in just the right place at just the right time.

Barth’s novel also veers from the picaresque norm, perhaps by way of deepening the parody, through its sheer bawdiness. The prose is full of double entendres and euphemisms for sex and the body parts used therein. Men are often depicted as sexual animals who’ll take whatever they can get – in some instance, not distinguishing between man or woman, and in one instance between man or beast – while women veer from manipulators who use sex as a tool or as trade to victims-in-waiting for rape or abuse. (Indeed, the offhand treatment of rape was the one glaring negative aspect of the experience of reading the book; whether or not it is appropriate to the time in which the book is set and faux-written does not make one more comfortable with reading about rape, even when it’s never brought to pass on the page.) Tom Jones, at the least, had plenty of sexual shenanigans, and part of the book’s climax (!) comes as the title character nearly unknowingly commits incest. Barth gives the reader more sex, particularly more talk of sex, both satirizing the giants of the literary genre but also setting contrast to the willful virgin Ebenezer, whose drive to protect his innocence is a joke that runs through the entire work to the very last pages. One of the best in-jokes of the book is the alleged “true story” of John Smith and Pocahontas, after which you will never think of an eggplant in the same way again.

Next up: Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray.

Chicken Paillards with Sun-Dried Tomato Cream Sauce

A simple main course that comes together in 20-30 minutes. To make it a little more luxuriant, start by chopping 3-4 slices of bacon and rendering it in the skillet, using the fat to cook the chicken and adding the bacon pieces to the final dish.

1 pound chicken breast, sliced into paillards (scallopine) and/or tenderloins
Flour to coat
2 Tbsp vodka
¼ cup chicken broth
¾ cup heavy cream
2 Tbsp fresh strained lemon juice
3 Tbsp chopped oil-packed sun-dried tomatoes
2 tsp chopped fresh parsley

1. Preheat the oven to 200°.
2. Heat about 2 Tbsp of olive or vegetable oil in a large skillet.
3. Pat the chicken paillards dry. Season with salt and pepper and dredge in the flour, shaking off any excess. Working in batches, pan-fry them for roughly two minutes per side until browned on the outside and just barely cooked through. Hold them in the oven while you prepare the sauce.
4. Drain any remaining fat from the pan and turn off the heat. Deglaze the pan with the vodka, scraping quickly to dissolve any fond, and then add the chicken broth (before the pan goes dry) and boil until reduced by about half.
5. Add the lemon juice, tomatoes, and cream and heat through. Return the chicken to the pan, spooning the sauce over the meat. Top with parsley, season with salt and pepper, and serve with pasta or rice.

Chat 10/2.

There’s no link up on espn.com to my chat from today, so if you missed it, here’s the transcript.

By the way, completely lame-assed Project Runway this week. Grow a pair and eliminate someone already. And enough with the waterworks.

When someone asks you why you should win (in this case, go to the finals), don’t say how much you want it. State your damn case. Korto and Kenley did it, although Korto first went for sympathy (boring). I have no idea what Jerell said behind the sniffling and snorling and whimpering and whinging. Blech.

Milwaukee eats (+ TV, radio).

TV today: ESPNEWS, 4:10-4:30 EDT as part of the Insider segment with Jerry Crasnick.
Radio: Northsound 1380 AM, Everett, Washington, with the Fish, 5:30 pm PDT. Also, ESPN 540 Milwaukee, Wednesday, 11:15 am CDT (streaming available online).

I have to say that I underestimated Milwaukee, figuring I was headed into a culinary wasteland filled with fat people who eat brats and drink pale beer all the time. It was actually one of the best eating towns I’ve been to all year, especially in the very funky area between Brady Street and North Street west of Prospect, which is definitely where I’d live if I moved there and could stand winters cold enough to turn your testicles necrotic.

First meal might have been the best – lunch at Cempazuchi on Brady Street. It’s sort of an upscale twist on Mexican food, with a heavy dose of authentic Mexican dishes mixed in. I started with the sopa de lima, a clear soup with chicken, lime juice, and tortilla strips, and then ordered the pork “torta,” Cempazuchi’s term for an unusual sandwich on pan frances with avocado, jalapeño, and onions. Both were phenomenal. The soup had just the right balance of acid, salt, and a touch of heat, and had obviously been assembled seconds before it reached the table. The sandwich was filled with pulled pork, apparently smoked properly since it wasn’t dry and didn’t require a sauce, and came on soft bread that had been sliced and grilled. The sandwich also came with a half-hearted garden salad with sliced radishes and an indeterminate white dressing. The meal starts with two salsas, one that was “peanut-based” that had an odd texture (shocking), and another with roasted tomatoes and garlic that was too thin but had a great smoky flavor.

Saturday’s breakfast was at Beans & Barley, a combination café and natural foods store just off North Street. There was no pork on the menu, so my EMPT included chicken sausage, which was cooked to death and mostly inedible. Everything else was excellent, particularly the breakfast potatoes, new red potatoes sliced and roasted with rosemary. The café serves Rishi teas (rhymes with “chichi”), but their only black tea is Earl Grey. It comes in a big ceramic pot with a strainer inside filled with loose tea, but it was already dark and bitter the moment it reached the table, meaning that it had been brewing too long. The properly-made scrambled eggs and the amazing potatoes still make it worth a trip.

I hit up a reader suggestion for Saturday dinner, Pizza Man, across the street from Beans & Barley. That’s where I had my lone beer of the trip, an ale from New Glarus with a fruity taste and medium body; I prefer darker beers, so this probably wasn’t the best choice, but it was their only local beer on tap. For dinner, the pizzas looked like they had the proper crust but were overtopped, so I went with one of the recommended specials, wild boar ravioli in a marsala sauce. The ravioli were excellent; I’ve never had boar before, but the flavor of the ravioli was very much like bacon. The sauce, on the other hand, was bitter with a pretty clear note of alcohol, meaning that it wasn’t cooked enough. The dish came with this amazing light garlic bread, not greasy at all and perfect for absorbing sauce, if you wanted the sauce absorbed. Pizza Man also has a huge wine list, and the décor – Old World Dungeon – reminded me of a place my wife and I visited in Siena almost ten years ago, an upscale “medieval” place called Il Gallo Nero.

Milwaukee being the center of the frozen custard world, I had to make sure to hit a few spots while I was on the ground. (Frozen custard is a style of ice cream that relies on egg yolks for texture, as opposed to “Philadelphia” ice cream, which contains no eggs and uses more butterfat.) Of the three places I tried, Gilles, Leon’s, and Oscar’s, Gilles wins the overall prize for the best combination of flavor and texture. All three places had very smooth custards, and Leon’s probably was the smoothest of all but both the chocolate and vanilla were timid, particularly the chocolate. At Gilles, I went with the flavor of the day, “turtle,” which had caramel and pecans mixed in and maybe a tiny bit of fudge. The vanilla flavor still came through in the custard, and the texture was just a shade below Leon’s. Oscar’s “mud pie” – allegedly mocha custard with hot fudge and Oreo knockoff cookies – had the worst texture, just slightly icy, and the knockoff cookies weren’t very good, but the custard did have a strong chocolate flavor.

I also approve of the Milwaukee Public Market, which is a fairly small building that houses maybe a dozen merchants, from a produce stand to a real fishmonger to a spice house to a few stands selling prepared foods. If I lived in Milwaukee, I’d be there all the time. The coffee-shop in the Market, the Cedarburg Coffee Roaster, roasts at least some of its coffees right there at the stand, which was a positive sign for their espresso. A double espresso macchiato (they don’t sell singles) runs $2.75, and while the beans were obviously fresh, the espresso was underextracted, resulting in a powerfully sour shot; the most likely explanation is that the barista used more grounds than necessary for the pull. It was a waste of what I think was pretty good coffee.

I also went to The Soup & Stock Market and ordered a bowl of their chicken and dumpling soup, which included real hand-made dumplings (obviously pinched out of dough by an actual hand) and was based on their own homemade stock (available frozen for purchase if you don’t want to make your own stock at home). The soup was very good, if just a little underflavored, filled with dumplings and chicken and vegetables; the stock was a bit on the light side, but it had the great mouth-feel you only get from soup made with stock. The soup also came with a hunk of a pretty amazing dense white bread. I also bought a bottle of Haley and Annabelle’s Vanilla Root Beer, brewed by two girls aged 10 and 5, with proceeds going to their college education fund. It was at least solid-average, better than any national brand, with a dark color, deep root beer flavor, but probably a little more sugar than I’d like. It’s behind, say, Thomas Kemper’s (my gold standard), but I admit I was sucked in by the story and the cause.

The one dud meal was breakfast at Miss Katie’s Diner, an old-school greasy-spoon near Marquette’s campus. Absolutely everything was drenched in butter, and I don’t mean that in a good way. The hash browns were soggy from frying in so much grease, the toast was buttered so heavily that I could see through it, and the eggs ended up sitting in the grease that was on the plate. There were definitely better options out there for Sunday breakfast.

Awards picks.

On my ESPN blog.

Milwaukee writeup soon.

Link – final-day live blog.

Those of you looking for a live blog for the final day of the regular season should check out Vegas Watch, where our favorite degenerate gambler will be providing commentary on the four games of relevance.

Reusable bags.

I’m in Milwaukee, eating and writing up a storm. To tide you over, here’s a great WSJ article on the rise of the reusable bag, replacing the so-called “T-shirt” disposable plastic bags that have become the environmentalist’s new bête noire. It’s a well-written, balanced piece and brought a few things to light for me (like how the “I used to be a plastic bag” slogan has two interpretations).

Chez Law, we have more of those reusable bags than we really need, but many are the products of trips to the store without our bags and our subsequent refusals to take disposable ones. I think we have five from Whole Foods and at least four from Trader Joes, although I will take any bag to any store. I always tell myself I’m going to leave one in my car, and sometimes I do, except that then I take it into the store, fill it, bring it inside to empty it, and never restore it to the back seat.

Milwaukee beer recs.

From today’s chatters:

(1675) Adam (Roselle, IL)
Keith, some good breweries to check out in Milwaukee: Lakefront and Sprecher. Other good local beers are Point, Capitol, and New Glarus.

(1674) Kyle (Chicago)
Ack! Take my advice and thank me later, Wisconsin is the 2nd fastest up-and-comer on the US craft beer scene (after Michigan). Here’s what you need to look for; New Glarus, Sprecher (German style stuff), Central Waters, Furthermore, Capital (more German) and Tyranena. If you want the best of those, the Black Bavarian from Sprecher and anything wheat or fruit-based from New Glarus are all world class.

(1533) Shawn (WI)
See if you can get your hands on some Capital Brewery or Lakefront Brewery Beer.

(2552) DTK, Troy, NY
In Milwaukee, try Sprecker. Little homestyle brewery. They have awesome rootbeer and ginger ale, too.

(2163) Jon UK
From a Chicago beer writer Milwaukee beers:- I’d pick Lakefront, although Roger Protz would opt for Sprecher instead. Plenty of other Wisconsin micros to pick there, too.

(1709) Evan (Philly)
Keith, try Lakefront Brewery in Milwaukee. Good craft beer.

Someone asked what “Old Mildred” is … it’s Old Milwaukee, a bad beer made by Pabst.