NOTES FROM SUMMERFEST

I went to Summerfest in Milwaukee last weekend and now you get to hear all about it. No, you don’t have a choice. I usually manage to make it up there once a year to overindulge in my two favorite food groups, fat and booze, and this year was no exception.

Summerfest, in case you are unaware, is billed as the World's Largest Music Festival. In addition to that, it may also be the world's largest disbursement of fried cheese products, the world's largest gathering of drunk white people, and the world's largest collection of people wearing clothes that are two sizes too small.

We arrived around 3pm. I was hungry, thirsty, and wearing a t-shirt almost two sizes too small - so I almost fit in. I kicked things off with a pair of deep fried Reuben Rolls and mustard sauce. They are quite possibly the most perfect food ever created. Yes, I am going to provide you with more detail - hold your horses! A Reuben Roll is an egg roll shell stuffed with all the ingredients of a Reuben deli sandwich: tender corned beef, melted Swiss cheese, sauerkraut, and thousand island dressing - deep fried to a crispy, golden brown. The finished product is a delicacy that’s second to none in my book. After hammering back a couple of those bad boys, I began the beer drinking process with a Leinenkugel’s Berryweiss. For dessert I finished off a few deep-fried broccoli and cheese nuggets.

About an hour later I started to get a little hungry, so I ordered up a chubby German bratwurst smothered in sauerkraut and drenched it in mustard. I pounded another beer to help it settle in my belly.

After picking through the wares in a tent-full of local artists and crap merchants, I decided it was time for a massive butter-bathed ear of sweet corn. I spiced it up with salt, garlic salt, and a dash of Cajun powder, then ravenously mowed it down (and washed it back with another beer). Did you know that beer goes with everything? It’s true. I know because I’ve tried it with everything. Pizza. Brats. Pop-Tarts. It’s all good. But I digress.

Our little posse next meandered from stage to stage to stage in seek of a music option more tolerable than the last. After about an hour of being band gypsies, we were ready for some more grub, so we headed over to Famous Dave’s trailer camp for a healthy helping of BBQ ribs and seasoned potato wedges. And beer.

As the sun began to set somewhere in the west, we wandered down to check out JoJo's martini lounge. It was there I finally decided it was time for a beer break. So I ordered up a chocolate martini instead...and it was sweet, pardon the pun. We endured roughly ten minutes of a curiously entertaining lesbian lounge act before escaping back into the festival grounds where I dialed up a cheeseburger from Major Goolsby’s and a side order of what had to have been two pounds of cheese fries in a grease-soaked cardboard box. It was all very, very good.

A couple of rounds of beers later I was more than ready for a good night’s sleep (or a stomach pump).

The next morning I woke up next to a letter of resignation signed by my liver.