Pickerel Eats.

Pickerel Eats.

On one of the first nights there, Jessica and I (with Andrew’s help), made a slow cooked pulled pork in the oven.
The best part about this pork was the 2 liters of Coca Cola it was cooked in.
After slow cooking it for four hours, I reduced the sauce on the stove to a sweet glaze. It was the jam.

We ate the shredded goodness in tacos, with a spicy guacamole. One, I might add, that contained serranos picked from my garden.
The next day for lunch, I used the pork to make quesadillas with Curd In A Cloud Cheese. Cheese curds. *IN* Meunster cheese. It really can’t get any better than that.

Friday night, we drove to Wild Wolf Inn in White Lake, WI. Nothing says “beauty and serenity” like a big orange guy sitting on a dead deer. Ahhh, Wisconsin.
Seriously, though.. This was the view outside of the restaurant.

I really enjoy the fact that this part of The Wolf River was named “Gideon’s Mistake.” Awesome.

Wisconsin is famous for their “Friday fish frys.”
A couple of years ago, a few friends and I decided to start a fish fry blog, and travel around Milwaukee trying, and rating all of the fish frys. We did about 15 before someone that wasn’t really in the group stole the idea and ran with it, ruining fish frys for a bit for all of us.
The one at Wolf River Inn was excellent.
I got the walleye, as it was my father’s favorite.
The piece that they served me was ridiculously huge, and so effing flaky and juicy, I wanted to smash it.
They also gave me 7Up in a can. Reminds me of my childhood.. I’m sure they would have supplied me with a bendy straw had I asked.

Fish frys come with a potato variation, usually.. Sometimes a choice. Hashbrowns, potato pancakes, french fries, potato wedges, baked potato.. All acceptable. This place had all of these and then some. I was on a french fry kick.
Frys also come with coleslaw, bread choice, and tartar sauce.
I dig on fish frys again. It’s a tradition.

Jessica and I saw a sign on our travels during the week for Weinerfest in downtown Lakewood.
We took Nate, and the babies.. When we got there, the sign clearly stated that the festival was slated for the following weekend.
We turned around, and went to Wabeno.
There were signs for a gallery festival type thing that Jessica and I were both interested in seeing.. Nate, not so much.. But he was stuck.
Turns out, it was an excellent choice.
They were having a Van Gogh day. Complete with dude dressed as a Van Gogh self portrait. Just kickin’ it.

There was a cute bistro, and a bunch of little tents with art for sale.

They included a Van Gogh themed menu. Awesome.
Best coffee I have ever had.

Jessica had the sangria, which looked amazing.
Van Gogh was Spanish?
He lived in Amsterdam, though? Gahhh. I don’t know why there were Dutch foods on the menu, and also sangria, but there were. And that’s where the Van Gogh museum was? Maybe I should do some reading.

I wanted to try everything on the menu, but sometimes I draw the line at vegan stuff. Sorry, vegans.

I have to say that this bistro was one of my favorite parts of the trip. They had live music, with sometimes terrible cover songs, and a cute little area for human/animal sacrifice.

I for real fear some Northwoods folks irrationally. It’s a totally different life up there.. One that has a little burger/ice cream drive-in living in each small town.. Usually run by a disgruntled teen.

I think it just comes down to all the places you could easily hide a body, co-mingled with crazy little backwoods shacks, and trailers. Plus, all the guys with big trucks, beards, and overalls.

But I got to drink coffee every morning that was made in a percolator.

UPDATE: Van Gogh was Dutch. He worked in Belgium and France. No mention of Spain.