Chicago Journal

Part Seven: Mineral Point, Great River Road, Galena, and Traveler's Tests for Restaurants.

"About this Chicago Journal," begins Sybil.

"I know," I interrupt. "It sucks. I told you it would be hard to write about a home town."

"But what about your philosophy of being a traveler in your own town? About trying to always see things with fresh eyes?"

"Yes, I try, but it's hard." And it is much, much harder when you're working long hours and your wife has cancer and most of your energy and attention are spent trying to deal with this.

The fact is we need a vacation, really bad. We were just about to schedule one when Sybil needed to undergo more radiation treatments. Trying to salvage some sort of break, we hurriedly arrange to drive out to the country for a long weekend.

Normally, we would camp out for a trip like this. There are plenty of pleasant state and county parks for this. We'd pitch the tent, cook some food, hike around and sightsee between parks.

Sybil isn't well enough for this though. She has a lot of pain in her back and legs. Basically, she needs some pampering.

The greatest difficulty with any driving expedition outside of Chicago is that it can be nearly impossible to get out of town, especially during rush hour. Traffic is typically awful. A running argument Sybil and I have is about whether it is better to take the congested freeway out of town or to try to skirt it on side streets. I always maintain that there is no good escape and that the expressway is almost always the way to go. Sybil always wants to take the side streets. Now, as a native Chicagoan, I'm far more familiar with the city than Sybil is, but since I don't drive, she knows the streets better. As possession of the wheel is ten tenths of the law, Sybil almost always gets her way, as she does this time. Sometimes she is right. On this day however, she is definitely not. We spend over two hours just getting out of town when the worst we would do on the highway is a little over an hour.

I think that unless you are a complete expert on Chicago traffic, or if there is a major accident on the highway that has brought everything to a complete standstill, your best bet is to endure the stop and go expressway. Outside of rush hour, you may have a chance, but there's no hope between 4:30 and 6:30. Don't try to do what we did!

In the 1930's, many of the now abandoned Cornish homes were destroyed. Two men, Robert Neal and Edgar Hellum (delicately described as "friends" in all the official Wisconsin State literature) bought and restored several of the houses. They wound up operating a tiny Cornish restaurant in one of them. They served peasant fare and Cornish tea at high (for the times) prices and received notoriety after write-ups by Duncan Hines and the Saturday Evening Post. The latter named them one of the seven best restaurants in the country! Robert and Edgar kept strict reservations for dinner and refused to seat anyone who arrived even a few minutes late.

Their property was eventually donated to the State Historical Society of Wisconsin. The Historical Society operates several historic sites and I've generally found them to be well worth visiting.

As per usual, we follow local tips to the Red Rooster Café. Sybil is in search of good pie. We find good food at the Red Rooster, but not good pie. After lunch we explore downtown Mineral Point.

Later, we decide to take a random drive, heading roughly towards New Glarus on highway 39, for no particular reason. Driving along we pass one of those amazing roadside American sites that absolutely insists on a turn around investigation. We see all of these strange statues outside of an absurdly decorated house.

Next day we head towards the Mississippi River. Along the way we swing off onto a side road and wind up wandering around a wooded, swampy area near Blue River, Wisconsin. This is one of those natural areas that nobody seems to go to, so we enjoy the solitude.

We make a rookie tourist mistake for lunch. Instead of chatting with locals first, we follow the advice of a guidebook that had high praise for the Hungry House Café in Prarie Du Chien. This is the type of place that probably used to be good, but expanded and went to pot. Bad food and bad pie -- avoid.

Unfortunately, my poor Sybil is not up for the steep hike up the bluff and the mosquitoes. She makes a valiant effort though, and we're able to do a short jaunt, see some mounds and get a marvelous view of the Mississippi. We'll have to return when she's feeling better.

The next day is spent antiquing in Maquoqueta and Savanna, Illinois. This is truly a marathon effort as some of these antique malls and shops are quite big. Unfortunately, I can't remember the last time I saw anything worth buying in an antique store that wasn't grossly overpriced. You just can't find any good deals. Here's a good example of what I mean. One display case had a handful of old Soviet Union war medals. You don't see these too often in antique stores, but it happens that I used to collect these and still keep up on the current prices. Six medals were listed, each with a price tag of $37.50. Five of the medals are generously worth less than $4. The last one is worth about $25. So, is the last one a good deal?

For some reason though, we don't mind hunting though all this overpriced junk. I especially like the huge, meandering antique malls setup in grand, old dilapidated buildings. It's a bit like wandering through an overcrowded museum where you can touch all the exhibits.

We're both starving, Sybil especially, so we could eat just about anything for dinner. The Cloran owners conscientiously keep menus on hand from places that guests have recommended. We choose the Market House Tavern at the end of the main drag. The place is busy -- good sign. The owner tells us the special of the day is a mixed seafood grill. Sounds very tempting to us but we're always a bit dubious about ordering seafood in the Midwest. We're debating the choice when a large man sitting next to us tells us that the special is "marvelous". Well, we can't resist that, can we? We both order the special.

Ouch! Mine is terrible and Sybil's is absolutely inedible. The service is a disaster as well. We never even see our waitress after the food arrives to complain. We wind up paying at the bar (after waiting endlessly for someone to take our money) and foolishly neglect to vent our displeasure. We're both just too tired and disappointed, but as the Cloran owners correctly point out to us later, the only way improvement can be made in a place is by informing the management when food and service is poor. Personally though, I think this place is beyond hope.

Before heading back, we do a last bit of antiquing in a huge barn on the outskirts of town. This is a cool place to poke around -- the sight of hundreds of chairs hung up and down every wall is worth the visit -- but everything in it is completely covered with mouse and bird shit.

Sundays are sometimes a difficult day to find a good restaurant open for lunch in small towns. After a long stretch of nothing promising, we see a place called Beach's Supper Club outside of Lena, Illinois. My grandmother had this theory that you should never go into a new restaurant unless it has a lot of people in it. So now, whenever we come to a new restaurant, we note if it passes the "grandma test". We don't always follow it, but we always note it. Beach's Supper Club does pass the "grandma test".

Maybe all older people apply this same test because practically everyone inside Beach's Supper Club is a senior citizen. Now, Sybil has her own theory that restaurants that are only full of older people are no longer any good. She thinks that older people have lost some of the sensation in their taste buds, so they basically taste more with their memories than with their tongues. As a good place gradually declines, the younger people leave first but the older people hang on longer because they remember when the place used to be good.

Interesting theory, huh? I have only one test for a restaurant. I immediately walk into the washroom and see how clean it is. I've walked out of many places after doing this. So, the "grandma test" gives a thumb's up, but Sybil's "senior citizen test" gives a thumb's down. Beach's passes Matthew's "washroom test". Then we find out that the place just changed management. The staff is basically the same but in transition. Sybil and I both see this as a wildcard, anything could happen now. We sit down.

We always have a problem ordering in small town restaurants because we're basically vegetarians, so our options are extremely limited and not very appealing. Beach's is obviously a meat eaters' restaurant. We are hungry and as seasoned travelers, we are flexible. We order a meat dish. It's fine. The service is poor but both the waitress and manager apologize for being busy. I'm sure we couldn't have done better.

In atonement, we attempt to stock up on produce on the way back by stopping at roadside stalls. Surprisingly, the quality and prices are actually worse than what I can find in the downtown Chicago farmer's markets! I guess the volume that the farmers can bring in to the Chicago markets brings the price down. Still seems a bit strange though.