Ritual Cafe, Thanks for the Quarters

So many adventures, so little time to blog. Last Wednesday, the Iowa: An Explorer's Guide Roadshow (that's me, my pen, and some candy corn) attended the Iowa Author's Fair at the Des Moines Public Library. What a great event! There were librarians, authors, and the people that love both milling around. I was sitting with Keith Ratzlaff, a fabulous poet from Central College in Pella. There were so many nice people, free desserts, and tons of Geek the Library shwag.

Before I hit the fair, though, I needed chain for the meter. They read them until six pm downtown (and I've already got one ticket to pay). I stopped into the Ritual Cafe and asked for change. They don't normally give away change, unless you are buying a coffee or food, but because I was wearing my "Des Moines, Hell Yeah," so the gal took pity on me. I promised I would stop back when I had more time. And will I ever. Des Moines has a great coffee shop culture (Java Joes, Zanzibars, Mars Cafe), and Ritual is a part of that rich, caffinated landscape that keeps the Starbucks zombies at bay.

And it tasted Savery

Blogging faux pas: catching up on blogs all at once. Apologies.

Last Monday, I went to the Hotel Savery on Locust in downtown Des Moines. The Savery is going to host the TYCA 2010 conference. Get excited because early in October of next year, the streets of this fair city will be bustling with English teachers at Two Year Colleges from around the Mid-west. Par-tay.

The Savery is a nice hotel, as nice as a historic hotel can be when it was bought out by Marriott. The lobby is almost too hip to stand, and the rooms are both ornate and functional. I was sad to hear that the Herbert Hoover ballroom was too much of a mouthful for many guests. They had to rename the ballroom the Terrace Ballroom.

I did learn a lot about event planning, specifically who chooses the food that gets served at conference luncheons and why.

Adventure: A Love Story

This dispatch comes from the "When it Rains It Pours Department."

Sunday afternoon, after a long brunch catching up with busy friends, Billy, my darling companion, and I found ourselves with no agenda, no plans, no commitments. Yes, the house needed cleaned, and we could have shopped for the upcoming week, but the mid-October sunshine called and the promise of an unplanned day of adventuring whispered sweet nothings in our ears. We hopped in the car, pointed it east, and were on our way.

First stop: An open house. Don't you just love open houses? Even when you are not in the market to buy a house, it is so pleasant to imagine you are going to buy a house. The simple act of poking around in a stranger's abode and mentally arranging my furniture is an entire Sunday afternoon's worth of entertainment. The house we stopped at, on Chickasaw Drive I believe, featured a pretty swinging downstairs boudoir complete with wood paneling and a jaguar sculpture. When we left there was an enormous tabby cat seated on the roof of the car, like one of those lazy-ass lions you see in National Geographic movies that relocate their lounging to the roof of a safari jeep, to the delight and then dismay of the travelers inside. We took it as a good sign.

Next, the Majestic Lion antique store. It's probably good that I don't have all the money I could spend, because I would have left the Majestic Lion with a massive oak fireplace mantel, an enormous bust of Ab Lincoln, and a taxidermy alligator head. I kept my wallet in my pocket, but Billy found some Ben Franklin coins.

Then Billy wanted to go the country, so we drove to Polk City, where I had never been.

Third Stop: Big Creek State Park. It was a breezy autumn day so the busy beach was empty, the parking lot abandoned, and the stands all bundled up for the winter. But, there were a handful of people wind surfing, can you imagine? They zipped and glided back and forth across the choppy water just as easy as you please. Who knew you could wind surf in Iowa in October?

Fourth Stop: The Boone and Scenic Valley Railroad in Boone Iowa. Billy, I don't know if you know this, is all about trains. We snooped around the train station, and Billy, climbed aboard one of the engines. He fears nothing and he's not afraid of getting kicked out of places. He invites us. And, it's that attitude that gets us into some great adventures.

Fifth Stop: Wilson's Tap in Boone. They advertised games on the front sign. And Billy loves, loves, loves pinball, so we had to stop. We had a beer, played pinball and then pool (which I hate, for the record) and put some beloved songs on the juke box.

Then, after a big day of both nothing, and everything, we pointed the car towards home. Billy made dinner. I washed the dishes. They say compatibility is the most important feature in a relationship. For me, that means, having someone who doesn't mind seeing what's around the next corner or getting into a little trouble. If you've got someone who can enjoy a cold beer and pinball in a dive bar forty minutes from home, just because it's there, you've really got someone.

Not for all the Parking Spaces in the World

I am one of those lucky few who with a "reverse-commute." I live in the heart of the city, but I work in the suburbs. The rush-15 minutes is in the opposite direction. In theory, I understand why people move out to the hinter lands of Ankeny and Waukee: new-development housing, plenty of parking, and all the big-box stores a shopper could hope for.

In practice, though, I just don't see the appeal. Who wants to buy their groceries in the same place they buy underwear or tires? It's nice to find a parking spot, but really, when a store is tens of thousands of square feet, are you really saving any walking, or time, or energy?

But, answering those types of questions, at least for myself, is what this crazy-adventure-every-day quest is all about. So, before I headed home during reverse rush-hour, I availed myself of the shopping experience that is East 14th Street, whoops, I mean Ankeny Boulevard.

First stop. Super Target. Well, Super is right. They've got it all. Glasses. Portraits. Hardware. Bath Products. Clothes. Coffee. Movies. Toys. Stationary. Everything. It was like a small town crammed into one warehouse-style building. Wait. Glasses. Portraits. Hardware. Clothes. Coffee. Movies. Stationary. That sounds like my neighborhood. There are shops for all of those items and more in Beaverdale, but the dedicated shopper would have to depart one building and re-enter another. The horror.

Second stop. Tuesday Morning. When I lived in New Orleans, and had television at my house, I remember seeing commercials for Tuesday Morning. They featured a batty old rich lady and her driver, who were simply mad for the deals at Tuesday Morning. Well, I love me some deals too, but I was surprised to find Tuesday Morning both dumpy and spendy. Billy, my darling companion, described it as the Big Lots of department stores. Yikes. Imagine some old gal, sifting through piles of do-dads and Nittney Lions to find the cheapest possible goblet. No thanks.

Sure, everyone needs a Target every once in a while, and it is nice to have the new-house smell, and I am sure a lot of soul searching happens during those slow fifteen minutes of backed-up traffic on I-235, but, for me, I'm going to do my best to shop locally, street-parking and all.

Reading, and Rims!

This fall a great travesty befell the people of Beaverdale. The Franklin Library, which possesses the largest circulation of books in the system, closed and relocated to the Merle Hay Mall. They are building the new library, and they don't need a bunch of books and toddlers running around amid the support beams and sheets of glass, I guess.

I am partial to the Franklin Library; a good deal of my book was written at a square table near the one and only outlet. My friend Nikki worked there, and it is just blocks from my apartment. I am partial to the Central Library (though I miss the old building on the river), though I hate the parking--who wants to spend only 2 hours at the library?

There is a library hole in my life. I need books. I need media. I don't need Mall-time. I've heard the temporary location in the mall is fine, but I just can't bring myself to stop by. Who wants to pick out books in what used to be a Gap? Forest has done in a pinch, but there is about one work table in the entire joint, and the South and East side libraries are just too far away.

Nowadays (my students love that word), I've been driving to work on 2nd Avenue through Highland Park, which has opened up a whole new neighborhood for me. Chuck's is practically a haunt, and so, I figured it was about time I found my way to the North Side Library. Do you know what they have plenty of at the North Side Library? Rims. There were four cars in the parking lot with extra-fancy rim jobs. But, they've got a lot of other stuff as well: plenty of books on CD, which I listen to in the car, plenty of books in general, a handful of tables, too little space for kids to get a running start, and a meeting room with historical displays. I was charmed.

Perhaps, this would be my library of choice from now on? Perhaps all along, I've been compromising on my library choices (parking versus books versus tables versus mall-walkers), when no compromise is necessary. Perhaps that is the lesson of adventuring--perhaps, waiting out there for you is what you've been looking for all the time. I can see that this is going to be addicting.

PS: If anyone is interested, I will be at the Central Library this Wednesday night for the Iowa Library Association Iowa Writer's Fair (6-8). Come by the table and say hello. There will be candy corn.

Rock the Casbah: Nagi Mediterranean Grocery

Where to go? Where to go? Monday night, 7:15. I'd gotten sucked into an hour and a half of "Project Runway" at my mom's house (shameful, I know, but what can I say? I don't have tv at my house, so I have no natural immunity to bad reality programing.) Not much is open on a Monday night besides restaurants (but I did not want to eat out) and bars (I didn't want to drink alone, and Billy was at the Y). I could have gone to the hospital where my step-sister was in labor with her first child (but both hospitals and babies scare me. I would rather wait the babies are cleaned up and have use of their thumbs and vomit reflex at like age 25). So I took the long way home, getting more resigned to the fact that there would be no adventure that day.

Then, less than a mile from home, I spot it out of the corner of my eye, the new Mediterranean Grocery store in the shops at 42nd and University. I'd seen the grand opening sign a few weeks before and then forgot about the shop immediately. I'm not all the keen on Mediterranean food. I mean, I like it in theory. Olive oil, good. Olives, good. Bread, good. Cucumbers and tomatoes, okay. But, I was burned by a bad can of hummus from the Arabian grocery on 28th Street and University, and honestly, does anyone really like tabbouleh?

The Nagi Mediterranean Grocery is a humble affair, like a grocery store in a foreign country: clean, well-organized, and a bit spartan. Who needs four choices of brand-name jumbo lima beans anyway, the shelves scream? This will work, so take what you can get. And, it is clear that when they say "Mediterranean," they don't mean My-Big-Fat-Greek-Wedding-Mediterranean. They mean the other side of the Mediterranean, with camels, and veiled-ladies, and, it turns out, sesame fudge.

Well, I skipped the sesame fudge (tempting as it was, a quick glance at the nutritional content made me drop it like it's hot). But, I was surprised with how many items that I actually wanted: dried dates, dried figs, Kefir, and olive oil. Hey! I needed olive oil. And everything was reasonably priced. My friend Jessica has been making delicious cheese-stuff, bacon wrapped, grilled figs, but the cost of buying those high-in-fiber wonders at the Gateway is cost-prohibitive. Not anymore.

While I was shopping, the shop keeper's daughter (geez, that sounds like the title of one of those many, best-selling novels that keep coming out, doesn't it?), who was a darling, kept asking her daddy, who was working diligently at the shop computer and leaving me alone (another thing I like about grocery stores in foreign countries; there are no smile-plastered teenagers in Dockers and cheap button-down shirts asking me how I am. I am at the grocery store, of course I am terrible. Now, where's the friggin' corn meal?) if she could have a) mango juice or b) candy. She alternated between the two. He kept saying no, that they were going home soon, over and over, with a patience that I envied.

As I was paying for my olive oil, ($4.99) I asked if I could take some pictures. The shop keeper's daughter, who introduced herself as Imam, graced one shot with a dance. Imam and her father were total sweet-hearts, and the shop is not only a welcome addition to the neighborhood, but also a sign of the changes that are taking place in Des Moines, especially in the Drake area. More and more families from the "Mediterranean" are moving to the neighborhood, and they need figs, and Kefir, and olive oil too. And, as they shop, and send their kids to school, (and try to get them to eat less candy), and live regular lives, they are changing the way we define it means to be Mediterranean and what it means to be American. That change, I think, can only be for the better.

Something Old, Something New

Perhaps this doesn't count, but on Thursday, Billy and I went down el Bait Shop for Jimmy Carter Happy Hour. We've been meaning to go ever since we started dating. Billy is a home-brewer at heart, and I love both Jimmy Carter and beer. Often, the J.C. Happy Hour, which features free samples of home-brew from local brewers, is over before we can rally and get out of the door.

So, I've been to el Bait Shop plenty of time, but I've never been for this particular event. And, it was pretty fun--more low key than I thought it would be. We had a sample and then went next store for broasted chicken. Something old, something new, I guess.

Brunch, And Other Pleasures

Well, fellow Daily Adventurers, I must admit, I've fallen off the wagon a bit in seeking out my daily adventures. I've found it hard to adventure to new places after a long day, especially once I am already home. The best adventures, I've found, come from choosing a new place to do old-standy-by things. This brings me to brunch.

Brunch is a long-standing ritual for my circle of friends. No matter how busy we get or how busy we got on Saturday night, we find our way to brunch, usually around 10:30, at one of the fine local establishments.

The perfect brunch requires several factors. Good food, good coffee, bloody marys, inexpensive prices, solid service, and a friendly, convivial atmosphere. And of the many brunch spots in Des Moines, it seems we rarely find one that succeeds in all of these areas. A.K.'s has good food and cheap drinks, but the service is so slow it has reduced grown-women to tears. Christopher's has great food and solid service, but it's a little stiff in the morning and because it is a buffet, it's hard not over-eat to make it worth the $10.95 price tag.

And, so, my friends, in Sunday morning texts, debate the merits of our stand-bys and compare them to our brunch needs. But, this Sunday, as part of this quest, I sought out something new. Which brings me to Baby Boomers Cafe in the East Village.

Baby Boomers has been around forever, in a little pink building, and forever I've never gone. I don't know what I was imagining the place would be like, perhaps like our gone but not forgotten Stella's in the skywalk, but with more suits and less milk shakes. Boomer's is also famous for their Obama cookies, a big, chunkie hunk of dough and chocolate chips, that won the hearts of the Obama-staffers that were stationed next door to Boomers during the primaries last year.

Then Boomers moved to a slick steel and concrete spot at 303 E. 5th Avenue. The counter is at the center of the room with a chalkboard and wood sculpture rising up--it's covered in inspiration messages about coffee and such. The tables are understated and simple, and off to one side is a small convenience store for the East Villagers.

Even on the morning of the World Food Festival, Boomers was busy but not crowded. The staff was friendly and helpful. The prices were fair. The food didn't come out in a hurry, but, eh. It's brunch. I want to linger. Coffee was plentiful, though the juice tasted slightly of Tang. I ordered the eggs benedict, which is the standard by which I just all brunch spots. These were delicious with a smokey-flavor. The only down-side, the eggs were so deep in hollandaise sauce I needed scuba gear to find them. Also, I was hankering for an adult breakfast-beverage, and none were to be found, though Boomer's does serve beer and wine for lunch and dinner.

Overall, I am glad I ventured to the East Village. Now, when my friends are texting ideas for our Sunday morning meeting, we have a new choice to consider. And, where Boomer's lacks, well, we could always wander down to the Locust Avenue Tap.

Like Your Living Room, Only Much, Much Cooler

This morning I was dragged away from my cozy home office; where did I go? The Living Room. No, not the next room, The Living Room Coffee Shop in Valley Junction. The Living Room is the brainchild and heart's desire of my friend Elisabeth Ballstadt. Elisabeth is one part 1960s housewife, one part socialite, one part best friend to the world--and that's pretty much the atmosphere of her coffee shop.

The furniture is retro-velour sofas, chairs in zany colors, and old wooden booths. Elisabeth is an amazing shopper, and now, she has an outlet for all the vintage lamps and glass bottles she's been stock piling in her basement. Elisabeth was working behind the counter today wearing gorgeous, designer knee high boots, and a vintage-print apron. I just love that girl.

I had a delicious cafe au lait with skim milk and some homemade ice cream (dreamsicle without the creepy orange color). It was the perfect antidote to a chilly, damp October morning. I couldn't believe how peaceful and charming Valley Junction is in the morning; it's quiet and welcoming, without the crowds of the farmers market and there was nary a red-behatted-antique junky to be seen.

Perhaps I have two cozy places to work, my office and the Living Room. Stop by and say hello to Elisabeth at 117 5th Street, Valley Junction.

Greene is the New Black

Yesterday, I did my first official book tour. The Iowa: An Explorer's Guide road show traveled to Greene, Iowa to speak at the Librarians of Butler County annual meeting. First, let me say, that there is not a nicer group of people than the Librarians of Butler County, and the Greene, Iowa Library is a gorgeous building that is celebrating 25-years. It also managed to escape the flooding that devastated the towns along the the Shell Rock River in 2008. Thank goodness.

Greene, Iowa has a lovely railroad park with the old depot, old railroad equipment, an outhouse, and a 100-year old Limestone Building on sight. If you are interested in our railroad history, Greene is worth a visit. I didn't get a chance to eat a meal in Greene, but I've heard that the bakery is delicious. The librarians eat there every day. Billy and I also took a tour of the cemetery while we killed time (yuck, yuck) before the meeting. I liked the foreboding shot, included above.

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Save the Shed?

Just your typical Monday night: troll around the M.L.K. neighborhood, try some doors at a historic church, and then off to the soda fountain for a cherry soda.

I was dawdling on the sofa. Billy was busy building his empire from his Lazy Boy, and all was well in the Tiger Den. Well, except that I needed to "go someplace" before the day was over. Billy mentioned reading about a paper boy shed that local history-lovers were trying to save. The problem, it's just an old shed. The county assessor dates the building to the 70s, but the rumors state that it was in use as a paper boy hut in the 1950s. It's pretty run-down today. What do you think? Is the shed worth saving?

The shed is located near the corner of MLK and Meek in Des Moines. We parked in the alley, and as we were leaving we were trapped by an old guy in a flannel shirt. He pulled into a drive way, and when he got out of his car, I asked if he knew anything about the shed. He ambled over and leaned way into the window of my Mazda, eyeballing me through these google-eyed glasses that made his eye sockets look all catty-whompus. I repeated my question, "was this the old paper boys' shed."

"I don't know, but probably not." I rolled up the window and got out of there. Those googley eyes were freaking me out.

But we weren't done yet. Billy's not satisfied with an evening out unless we've gotten kicked out of a place. We went to the church at the corner of Cottage Grove and MLK. The church looks exactly like the churches on Harlem streets in old blacksploitation movies. Billy ditched me while I was taking pictures and found his way inside through an unlocked door. A nice young man showed him around and told him all about the rehab of the church. They are going to the spires back on the roof. I was hoping for a church of disco, but what can you do?

I waited across the street at the newly opened Smokey Row Coffee House and Soda Fountain. I'd been to the Smokey Rows in Pleasantville, Oskaloosa, and Pella while working on my book, Iowa: An Explorer's Guide last summer. These are great coffee shops, with creative drinks, lots of inexpensive comfort food, ice cream, and the glossiest floors I've ever seen in a public building. The shop has been under construction for years, but it's open now, and it has the happy buzz of a place that everyone is trying out for the first time and really, really liking.

Smokey Row is a nice addition to Sherman Hill and a gorgeous rehab of an old building. It's scrubbed up and perfectly balances the historic feel of a place and slick modern comforts--who knows? Perhaps some day the old newspaper boy shed will be rehabed into bourgey-bliss, a martini bar, perhaps? Boutique shoe store? Imported wine shop? If so, I know one guy who won't be the first customer.

Writing Classes On Facebook

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Attention students: I created a Facebook group for The Writing Classes of Lauren R. Rice. I am going to use it post links, interesting things to read, and use Facebook Chat for office hours. If you'd like to "friend" me and take advantage of this FB group, let me know. Just search for lrrice@uno.edu (that's the email I used).

In other news, I completely forgot where I went that was "new" to me on Tuesday. I know I made it some where. Yesterday's adventure was equally lame. I was driving, and talking, and I got a little lost on the way to brunch. Of course, we were going an old stand-by, the Drake Diner, but, rather than turn on 25th from Forest, I got confused and went all the way down to 21st. I'd never been on 21st between Forest and University. There's a dry cleaner there. Who knew?

I am in that neighborhood all the time, and yet, there was a street I had never used before. I wonder how often that sort of thing happens? We just stick to our normal routine, our normal routes, and we never consider all the shops and stores and people that don't exist on the Google Map in our brain.

Tomorrow I am going to Greene, Iowa for a talk at a library. Updates to follow.

Of Pork and Politics

Friday (September 25) not only marked my first trip to Sportsman's Warehouse in Ankeny; it also marked the first occasion of me touching a gun. A 38 revolver no less. My current writing project involves a feral pig hunt, for which, apparently, I am going to need protection.

Now, I am a softy, liberal. I don't really want to know where my bacon comes from, nor am I completely comfortable with the fact that for a mere $800, I could walk out of a store that is an outdoors version of Wal-Mart with a handgun, but, all that being said, when I am staring down a 400-pound hunk of angry porker, I am guessing I am going to want more than my wits and my liberal bias between me and the beast.

This is my new buddy Dave. He thinks I am going to need a 44, rather than 38. None of that really means anything to me. (I think I am going to need a hanky and my mommy, to be quite honest.)

I am going to wrap up this blog before the NRA starts calling, but I will say this. I'd never realized what a fascinating world hunters inhabit. And underneath all the bragging boards, taxidermy and high tech gadgetry is a love of the land and joy in being outdoors.

More on the feral pig hunt soon.

Sunday Afternoon at the Fort

Billy and I are now charter members of the Des Moines Historical Society. After paying our $15 and sitting through a rather dull meeting, we got a tour of the Fort Des Moines #2 cabin on the grounds of Principal Park. Many people don't realize that we are living in the third iteration of Des Moines. The cabin isn't open for tours, but it was neat to get a glimpse at one of the earliest structures of our fair city.

On October 25th we are heading to Gremler Castle on the corner of 42nd Street and Grand Avenue for a lecture on the ghosts of Polk County and a tour of the building. The Historical Society is just getting started as an organization, and we are hoping that lots of young people will join us for the adventure of history.

The Delights of DMACC

Monday (September 28) was the official(re) start of my quest to go somewhere new every day. I started close to home. I had to pick up some marketing materials from building 21 of the DMACC Ankeny Campus to take to a conference. Building 21, interestingly enough, was a former Casey's. You'd never know it today. With a new front entrance, cubicles full of helpful people, and not even a whiff of slushies or hot dogs.

To get to Building 21 we walked through the new Health Sciences Building. I've parked in the adjoining lot, but never walked inside. The new building is clean, crisp, and very academic. There's an atrium with lots of natural light and an open air patio on the third floor. Students were studying in groups in a lounge at the end of the hall, and I was impressed with how comfortable the space felt.

Community Colleges, we all know, are feeling a boost from the economic downturn, and they are becoming more and more important parts of the academic experience. And, their buildings, which are notoriously unattractive and dull, are also turning a corner. In California, community colleges are leading the field in green buildings. It may sound geeky, but I am delighted that DMACC students have such a comfortable place to learn and grow; who knows? The building is right around the corner. Maybe I will take some papers over there to grade? Now, if only there was a place I could get a slushie.

Ave-dahhh

Anyone who has talked to me for more than about 10 minutes knows that I am vain when it comes to my curly, brown locks. And, while I may be wearing a holey sweater and drinking my coffee out of a thrift store mug, I am willing to spend big money on my hair products.

These days I am using a three-part system of Aveda products to create the perfect balance of volume, hold, and shine. (I will spare you the details, but if you are interested, email me. I am happy to wax poetic about product). But, I ran out of the first step-product. Usually, I got to Salon Seven-0 for my hair care needs. Devon takes good care of me, but since I was in Ankeny, I thought I would buy my goods from Salon Vesta on Oralabor Road.

You have to give it to the people at Aveda. They know how to turn a boring strip mall shop on a hectic, ugly road, into a blissful, deliciously herbacious-smelling haven of hair. And, as a bonus, there's a clothing store connected to the salon. I am not much of a business person, but I do wish that more stores could create that kind of serenity and style. Their class and their gree outlook do pay off for Aveda. So, why don't other retailers get a clue?

Pesto Update--You Win Some, You Lose Some

Billy turned two bags of fresh (Wisconsin) basil into some extremely tasty pesto. But, he might have killed the blender. We used the recipe from the Daily Soup. I guess we have to buy a food processor.

Thanks Eden and Alan

Some adventures are more educational than others. On Thursday, October 1, I left Des Moines to attend the National English Teachers' Association Two Year College Association Conference in the Concourse Hotel in Madison Wisconsin. Let's just call it TYCA.

Anyway, the TYCA 2010 Conference is being held in Des Moines and sponsered by DMACC. I was in Madison, along with my colleagues Eden Pearson and Alan Hutchison, promoting next year's event. I dare anyone to find me two more encouraging professors and friends. While they monitored the table, I got to go sit through some fascinating sessions on teaching creative writing using technology--who wants to make her poem into a movie? I do. I also sat through a fascinating session on using Facebook as a tool for teaching online. "No, I am not wasting my time on Facebook. These are my office hours."

Needless to say, I had a great time and I am so glad I went. Budget cuts are making it harder and harder for professors to travel to conferences, but I do believe that teachers and students should be encouraged and supported in life long learning.

Mo' MMoCa Please

Will Madison wonders never cease? Friday evening, after a long day of conferencing, my colleague, Eden Pearson and I hit the town. State Street, in downtown Madison, was bustling. Despite the spitting rain, the shops were open and people (including dairy farmers from around the world in town for a difference conference) were happily ambling up and down the street.

Eden and I wandered into the Madison Museum of Contemporary Art (the glass prow of a ship). What a treat. The museum was in the midst of a well attended gallery night, and the lounge on the first floor was full of well heeled people drinking wine and listening to a violin group. Upstairs academics and hipsters crowded into a narrow gallery for a lecture on Robert Rauschenberg, the print maker.

The museum made me miss living in a college town. Everyone around me was eager, damn-near dieing, to spend their Friday night listening to a lecture. Everyone was so eager for learning and enrichment, and the space just crackled with new thoughts and ideas a buzzed around us like mosquitos before a thunderstorm--so eager to get a quick nip before the change in the weather.

Famers, Markets, Maple Butter

I thought I knew farmers markets. I am here to tell you, I knew nothing. Madisonians (that's their official title) brag about their farmers market, but everything I'd heard was an under estimation. The capital of the great state of Wisconsin is surrounded in a stall after stall of produce stands. And the produce is huge! Beets the size of your head; stalks of Brussel sprouts, and piles and piles of radishes, corn, califlowers, and more.

Scattered throughout the market were stands with Wisconin maple syrup, flowers, honey, and baked goods. Let me tell you something, maple butter: yes, yes, yes. My only sadness, in this sea of freshly grown majesty, was that I never found the crossiants at Cafe Sole, and the coffee stands were all clumped together in one corner of the market. I had to circumnavigate the entire square before getting my buzz with a cafe au lait from a stand near State street.

I ate a Whoopie Pie for breakfast (though, I think the Iowa-Amish do this classic dessert better), and bought 3 enormous bags of basil (Billy's in charge of making the pesto) and, of course, the maple butter. I've had to have several serious conversations with myself about not eating that maple butter with a spoon.

While there are all sorts of issues associated with farmers markets (some of the food is not as local as we'd like), it does have two benefits. First, we rise and shine on a Saturday, meet our neighbors, and amble around the square like villagers of long ago. Second, all those vegetables are just too tempting to pass up. Even if we slather that basil in oil and cheese and nuts, we are still eating vegetables from local sources.

For all you questers out there working on better eating, the trip to beautiful Madison might be worth your while.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that the best way to nurse a hangover is a really great hamburger. I'll admit, on Thursday, I needed a great hamburger. So did Billy. I'd never heard of SmashBurger, but Billy had read a review in the Juice. I picked him up from Met Life at noon and headed towards SmashBurger in West Des Moines.

First sign of trouble: the parking lot was packed. It was West Des Moines and we had to walk around the building. I thought the point of being in a suburb was expansive parking. Billy spotted some ladies also headed towards the restaurant, so he made me hustle so we could beat them in line.

SmashBurger reminded me of the burger version of Red Rossa or Shane's Barbeque--fast food elevated for the office set. For all intents and purposes, it's fast food, greasy, inexpensive, and tasty, but there are tables and fresh herbs and chic decor. I ordered a Baja Burger. The gal at the counter told me it was a "good sandwich." Billy had the Iowa Smash Burger--with Maytag Blue Cheese.

We both ordered water. (It's important to hydrate on the days you need a cheese burger). I stalked some I.T. guys so we could find a table in the crowded restaurant. And then we sat, and sat, and sat. Every time a uniformed employee walked by with a tray of food, our little faces lit up. But, it was not for us. We waited nearly 35 minutes, sipping our water in sadness. Billy had to go back to work. So, we begged for a to-go order and then left.

How long is the average wait at a restaurant? I'll be looking into it.

Fong, Fu, Fong Fong Fong

Yes, lovers of odd restaurant ideas. You can have your Singapore Sling and Mongolian Beef pizza too--welcome to Fong's Pizza on 4th Street in Des Moines.

Fong's is the brainchild of the the folks that brought you such delightful bars and restaurants as the High Life Lounge, El Bait Shop, and the Hessen House. (People love theme bars).

Fong's took over the space once inhabited by King Ying Lo--which was the oldest restaurant in Des Moines before it folded last year. King Ying Low was both charming and shabby. It felt like the kind of old school Chinese joint one might find in the unsung downtown areas of Chicago or New York. It was a one woman operation with fairly standard options.

Fong's, delightfully, has kept the style of the King, if not the clutter. The rooms are spacious and lined with old Chinese cigarette advertisements. In the front is a spacious bar, which offers a host of fruity, kick-back cocktails in a south Pacific style. I enjoyed an Unlucky Tourist, served in the foreboding shrunken head cup seen pictured above--it was fruity and sticky sweet, but one was plenty. Fong's also offers massive fish bowl drinks for parties and a healthly selection of Asian and imported beer.

The menu is also a kick in the pants. It's a pizza joint, as the name suggests, but it is an Asian pizza restaurant, so items like Moo Shoo Pork and Thai Chicken pizza are on the menu along with the standard sausage, veggies, and cheese. Try the peanut sauce on a pizza--it's spicy and rich. Rumor has it the bacon popper pizza is as decadent as it sounds, and the crab rangoon are delightful: crab flavored cream cheese in an egg roll wrapper.

Fong's is open late and serves slices for those who can't make it all the way to Big Tomato on Ingersoll, and it gets quite busy in the evening as bar goers pour out of the Liars' Club and Saints and Sinners, but it's a charming spot for an afternoon cocktail that will transport you to the islands. Just don't let the natives near your head.