Kyle Ate Here - The bites that bite

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I had surgery back in June of 2011, and it wasn't fun -- lost my senses of taste and smell for a while, lots of discomfort. But at least I could eat. In April, my dear sweet wife had to undergo some dental surgery that temporarily limited her to a soft/smooth diet. Dairy state or no, we are not meant to live on pudding and ice cream alone.

If she was writing this post, she'd have some words to share with you on how annoying it was after a week or so of not being able to eat comfortably. (She's doing fine now, by the way.) But by the end of the month, even though she was still a little limited, we were at least back to some of our usual haunts.


Nibbles

The FluffalettaI crossed paths with a couple sausages early in April; the Chicago dog at the Home Depot East hot dog cart was tightly wrapped but its ingredients were well-proportioned, while the hot link at Papa Bear's let me down for the first time. It was a little gamey, with chewy casing. The Fluffaletta at Famous Yeti's (currently closed indefinitely due to fire) featured a heap of ham and the buttery, crusty roll they'd come to be known for -- at least by me.

There were more Ground Zero maple lattes, and the occasional baked good. They're generally pretty satisfying; the pumpkin chocolate chip bread/muffin is my go-to. Kristine and I took in a double-feature at the Orpheum during the Wisconsin Film Festival, and there was a highly mediocre pulled pork sandwich whose ultimate provenance eludes me (considering the tenuous status of the whole Orpheum restaurant operation). Elsewhere on State, Ian's put out one heck of a beef taco slice; the chicken cordon bleu was a bit overcooked, but still tasty.


Chomps

A buncha food at Dickey's
What once was Victor Allen's Coffee off of East Washington near the Interstate is now Dickey's Barbecue Pit. It's Chipotle/Subway style fast-food barbecue, but I was impressed by the level of smoke on both the ribs and chopped brisket. Sauces are a letdown, but the buttered dinner rolls are heaven; I gotta get me one of Dickey's bun machines. A visit to (2012 James Beard Award semifinalistThe Old Fashioned for burger night -- and a glorious pint of Bedlam -- was both tasty and remarkably non-crowded. Even less crowded: The Fountain, which rewarded our first visit with manageable traffic, surprisingly complex beer cheese soup, and an impressive Reuben. The meat, heaped; the kraut, apple-bacony.

Pork belly mac and cheese from The Coopers Tavern seemed like a good idea for a soft meal for Kristine. The mac part was good enough, but the pork belly was overcooked and covered in a nasty gelatinous sauce. I had the slightly above average fish and chips (accompanied by an unpleasant slaw that looked like shredded dish rags). Add to that maybe the worst table in the house, strangely obsequious service, and off-tasting Monk's Cafe... It wasn't the best trip. A Friday fish fry at Wilson's Bar -- cheap, hot, salty, and serenaded with a loud and ridiculous soundtrack -- was infinitely superior.


The best thing I ate

Reuben and creole tomato soupI'd fully expected to slot Sardine into consideration, but the standouts of that evening -- other than the company -- were two pitch-perfect barrel-aged negronis. (The wilty, brown-spotted radicchio atop my seafood buckwheat crepe took it out of the running.)  No, this month's best thing basically comes down to the Duck Duck Goat pizza at Salvatore's Tomato Pies in Sun Prairie, the apple-fennel-potato hash beneath Graze's brunch kielbasa, a tender and salt-topped tomato-basil-mozzarella scone at Heritage Bakery and Cafe, and the aforementioned Fountain Reuben.

The Graze kitchen crafted a nearly perfect plate of kielbasa, hash, and eggs; the hash was just the right combination of sweet and savory. You see the picture of the Reuben. You don't need me to tell you how good it is. And the scone was a real surprise, ingredients in balance and kissed with a scattering of big grains of salt. But the Salvatore's pie topped with duck-confited-in-duck-fat, rich dollops of goat cheese and cranberries shows just how successful Pat DePula's experimentations can be. And seriously, on that perfectly chewy crust? If it comes around again, order it. Missing out would really bite.

The 2012 Wisconsin Film Festival - a first-timer's thoughts

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This was our first year attending the Wisconsin Film Fest. I talk about it a little bit in the Madison Podcast episode that I mentioned earlier, but here are some slightly expanded thoughts on all four films my wife and I saw.
 
 
Kill List, Friday at Union South Marquee. Kind of hated it. No, really hated it. Whatever character was present in the method of storytelling was completely squandered by the absence of actual storytelling. Google it and read the spoilers; don't bother seeing it just to find out what the buzz is about.
 
Jiro Dreams of Sushi, Saturday at Orpheum. This was my best-of-fest. Sumptuous visuals of the sushi and its component ingredients, and a delicate, respectful portrayal of this dedicated old man and his sons. Surprisingly, there is a twist at the end that I should have seen coming but didn't; it is the perfect capper to a thoroughly enjoyable film. Love of sushi: certainly helpful, but not required.
 
Raiders of the Lost Ark: The Adaptation, Saturday at Orpheum. The best part of a double-feature is getting prime seats for the second show. Considering the aforementioned poor video and audio quality inherent in the film itself, plus the poor acoustics (or at least the content-inappropriate acoustics) of the venue, good seats were a must. These kids nailed Raiders, got a girl to take her shirt off -- for the integrity of the gown scene in Belloq's tent, of course -- and actually set fire to a truck and one of their basements. I hope they sign off on, and participate in, a making-of documentary when their book comes out in November. I just want more of this story.
 
Granito: How to Nail a Dictator, Sunday at Bartell. Interesting premise, lots of potential for any of the following: thrilling real-life legal narrative, couldn't-script-this biography, powerful feminist argument, exposition on the value of filmmaking and oral history. Was, in fact: a frustrating bit of all of these. The title comes from a Guatemalan concept of community and shared effort; each person commits a grain of sand to the pile. This is a great philosophy for society, less so for actually making a film. The filmmaker (who, in a slightly self-aggrandizing fashion, conspicuously dropped all mention of her counterpart during the first documentary's filming after a brief bit at the beginning) should have made some cruel edits to the many emotional tales she caught on camera, and just stuck to one documentary archetype.
 
 
I really enjoyed the Union South theater, though I had no experience with the old USouth. But Bartell was nice in the old-theater mold. Orpheum was fine for Jiro, but the sound quality is undeniably poor even for a movie utilizing modern filmmaking technology, to say nothing of Betamax.

You've read me ramble; now HEAR me do it

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I had the pleasure of recording an episode of The Madison Podcast with Chris Lay and Eric Reinert last night, and it is now available at their website for download. (See also: iTunes, Stitcher.)


The conversation starts with a librarian controversy and moves on to video game documentaries, last weekend's Wisconsin Film Festival, and the wide world of Madison restaurants. It's a good listen, even with my weird semi-nasal voice and slightly braying laugh. (I'm really selling myself here.)

The Madison Podcast is worth a click on the Subscribe button on iTunes; give 'em a listen.

Kyle Ate Here - Wisconsin strikes back

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In the last six months or so, I've had a lot of good things to say about food outside of our fair state. San Francisco, Minneapolis, even a meal here and there in Appleton. When I've compared the best of those voyages (Mission Chinese, Tilia, Incanto) to similar meals in Madison, the road team has generally come out ahead.

March was Wisconsin's month to shine. Unseasonably lovely weather brought out some of spring's bounty a little early, and maybe it made every bite taste a little sweeter. March in the Badger State straight up brought it, from lion to lamb.


New blooms

The youngsters generally came through. 4 & 20 Bakery and Cafe (a riff on the nursery rhyme, not doobage) appears to be a near east side version of Crema Cafe, -- sandwiches with fresh ingredients, and flavorful baked goods. The brownies there are just how I like 'em, chocolatey and happily settled between fudge and cake. On the west side, Cupcakes A-Go-Go demonstrates an ability to mix up frosting styles; if you don't want ultra-rich buttercream, the just-boozy-enough White Russian cupcake is topped with airy whipped cream.

These fish don't run. (No legs.)
After a couple years of near misses and pining, we finally made it to the charmingly Republican and old-school North Bristol Sportsman's Club (certainly not a new establishment) for one of their limited engagement smelt fries. Slightly salty, crispy little fishies, in a respectable heap next to fried chicken, cheesy potatoes, cole slaw, potato pancakes, and tartar sauce. Add old fashioned, and repeat -- because oh yes, this is all-you-can-eat. For $13. Smelt are on the menu at the recently-renamed Craftsman Table and Tap, too; I didn't order them, but it's unlikely they could best the NBSC. Their eponymous burger (well, it was called the Craft burger when I had it, but I assume it too has been renamed) was nicely cooked and juicy, but a bit bland. The high-quality cheese curds are worth ordering.


Deep roots

Y'know, I've got half a mind to write this section in three words: bone luge brunch. My fellow Isthmus contributor, André Darlington, put this semi-ridiculous meal together at the always-classy L'Etoile, and let me say that this is a pretty tasty obnoxious food trend.

Oysters two waysShrimp and gritsBone marrow with caviar and greens

The raw oyster was fresh and light, but personally, I loved the delicately fried oyster. It evoked po'boy in bite-size form. The kitchen at L'Etoile/Graze can really knock out a perfectly cooked shrimp, and those grits were creamy and amazing. But the marrow was the loudest note struck, and rightly so. The paddlefish caviar broke up the fatty richness with little bursts of salt, and the whole plate was perfectly balanced, marrow and greens and bagel chips. The shot of cream sherry down the bone at the end was tasty, but served mostly as a color-coordinated but silly bow on top of the whole package.

Sardine continues to be my favorite restaurant-bar to hang out at; the unpublicized bar menu should be every Madisonian's pocket ace for a light meal with drinks. I have fallen totally in love with the creamy, sweet, slightly caramelized goodness that is the maple latte at Ground Zero. But let us now talk about Merchant, the kitchen that sealed this month in Madison's favor.


The best thing I ate

We arrived at Merchant almost by accident; if Ale Asylum had TVs, we'd have been watching the Badgers lose in the NCAA tournament there. (Ironically, the one thing I liked the least about Merchant during our last visit became the main reason we landed there.) Now, Merchant has been dealing with some multiple-personality disorder lately, with a handful of different menus for different times and a shifting overall menu philosophy. With the addition to reports of negligent service, I was unsure of Merchant's likelihood to succeed.

But we sat down, and our server was chipper, and the menu looked good all over, and then those Brussels sprouts hit the table, and we were off and running. (They're still as good as they were last March, perfectly charred and zingy with lemon.) I ordered the flank steak special; it came out cooler than I'd expected it to be, but it was served over a baked-then-pan fried smashed potato that damn near sizzled -- problem solved. (Meat and potatoes, who knew?) Kristine had the rainbow trout, and I'm telling you: that was one amazing piece of fish. A flaky, light fillet of trout with buttery, crispy skin symphonized with roasted cauliflower and sauteed pears. And the maple brioche bread pudding with dried fruit? Yes!

This meal matched our visit to Tilia in every way (except maybe sitting at the bar in Tilia's warmth and warming atmosphere ) -- price, quality, portion, service. I'd pick the trout as the single Best Thing if I had to, but it's my blog and I don't want to. It was a superb meal, singing out "Wisconsin" with every bite.

LOST - I've been thinking about Walt

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You know what Tennyson said about Spring. It's when a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of telepathic children in TV shows that have been off the air for two years. And so, like the swallows alighting upon Mission San Juan Capistrano, I turn my thoughts once again to figuring out just what the heck Walt's deal was on Lost.

We all wanted Walt's creepy is-it-a-superpower control of the world around him to be fleshed out more. The birds slamming into the window of his stepfather's home in Australia, the polar bear that he just might have telepathically summoned, the Others' fascination with him (hello, Room 23) -- all of those things and more made Walt a pretty tantalizing segment of the mythology of Lost.

It'd be easy to say that he had to be written out of the show because he was hitting his growth spurt and the year-after-year filming schedule couldn't accommodate the changes to his appearance and voice considering a narrative schedule of a couple Island days per episode. But I don't think the showrunners, all strapping lads themselves, were so blind to human biology as to not see puberty coming. I take Damon Lindelof at his word: "We've always known Malcolm was going to grow faster than we could shoot the show. And we planned for it. Trust us."

So let's consider what actually made the cut before Walt left the regular cast. There's a specific question that we all found pretty fascinating back then that I think points to what was going on with Walt and the Others and all those tests. Beatrice Klugh, interrogating Michael, asks him about his son, "Did Walt ever appear in a place he wasn't supposed to be?" This just about sums it up if you ask me.

Walt and Michael are allowed to leave the Island at the end of Season 2, just as we find out that people are looking for the Island (most notably, Desmond's gal Penny). Throughout his lifetime, Walt is shown drawing things to him with the apparent power of his mind, or will. Things happen when he wants them to happen, if he really wants them to happen.

What would happen if he really wanted someone to find the Island?

Now you see why Ben and the Others were so terrified of him. First, they wanted everyone to stay on the Island so no one could disclose its location. But then they got wind of Walt. They wanted to test his abilities, discern the liability to their need to keep the Island's location a secret, and then pound it all out of him with Room 23-style brainwashing if necessary. When they found this wouldn't work, they cut him loose -- and in such a way that neither he nor his father could ever reveal anything about the Island.

And at the end of Season 3, when a freighter approached the Island and discovery of its location was imminent, who showed up on the Island, where he wasn't supposed to be?

Boom.

L O S T

(Unless you think the manifestation of Walt standing over that DHARMA grave wasn't actually Walt, but I digress...)

I think it's a great way to write an arc for an actor you know can't last out the full sweep of that arc. In a show full of stories told but never really concluded, I don't know that the Walt story could have been handled any better.

Though, I should probably get around to finally watching "The New Man in Charge" before I say that. I'm just not sure I want the show to end.