Simply Sunday

It was cold this morning -- old news -- but sunny.

Tom is upstairs waiting for the Daytona 500 to start in a few minutes. Cassidy is curled up on a chair down here in the basement and Sundance on a chair in Tom's office. Any minute now one or the other will realize it is midday and time for a snack. I am going to leave them alone until then.

I have been answering email, doing some walking and listening to Will Durant's The Story of Philosophy. 

I was planning to cook pork chops, baked potatoes and salad for dinner tonight at Tom's request, but right now it sounds like we may go out for dinner and put my meal off until tomorrow.

Speaking of going out for dinner, a reader commented about the fish fry. Wisconsin has this big tradition of going out for a Friday night fish fry. I think it got started back in the day as a way for every little parish school to raise extra money. The Catholic school in Baraboo still has one, but only once a month now. Every bar and tavern and restaurant and diner and lodge in the state, however, provides fish fries. (Up north they do a fish boil, which some people swear by -- but I would probably just swear, so I will pass on that, thank you very much.)

If you ever come visit us in Wisconsin, Tom and I will be happy to treat you to a fish fry. Y'all come on now, ya heah?

The Wisconsin fish fry is such an institution that there are guidebooks to tell you where to go and what to expect. Is it battered or breaded? Is it all-you-can eat? Walleye or cod? Do you need to bring your own lemon if you are like Tom and not a tartar sauce fan? And -- this is no exaggeration -- how early do you have to get in line if you expect to eat before eight or nine? And even a movie:

Watch the trailer by clicking on the arrow below.