I’m obsessed with sour cherries. So obsessed, in fact, that I bought two buckets of them last year when I went to Door County. Initially the second bucket was for my mom, but, um, sorry mom… I kept them for myself.
I’m finally about half-way through with the second bucket, mostly due to this tart. The original recipe calls for raspberries, but thanks to my favorite blog in the whole wide world, Smitten Kitchen, the idea to use cherries was introduced to me. I made it for my dad’s birthday (in September–yeah, I’m behind), and it was so good I ended up making it again for a family party a few days later.
Still not convinced? On my dad’s birthday I brought it with me to my brother’s bar, Rootstock, and after sending a few slices to the kitchen, the sous chef came over to our table just to tell me how amazingly delicious it was. Score. Continue reading
I recently returned from a 6-day trip to Door County, Wisconsin. If you haven’t yet been there, you are really missing out. I started visiting there with my family 20 years ago, and not much has changed since that first year I went. It’s one of the few places in the US that has been untouched by big corporations and chain restaurants. Every institution you go to you feel like you’re part of the family — as in, the actual family that owns it — and they welcome you with warm smiles and sconnie accents. By the end of the trip you’re throwing around “Don’tcha know”s like you’ve been living there your whole life. It’s marvelous.
Usually there’s a big group of us that go, but this year it was just me, my dad, and my step mom. It made for some serious bonding time and a captive audience for my dad and the
corny hilarious things he says. For example, the three of us are biking on a beautiful trail. There are a lot of hills — despite my assumption that they no longer existed in the midwest — so we are getting tired. My dad finds himself on a relatively flat surface. “When there’s gravity, use it! That’s what I always say!” he states as he rides along beginning up a hill. He’s not pedaling. He’s not moving. “Guess there’s no gravity right here!” he says. “That’s what you always say, huh, dad?” I joke. “Well, I said it, and I believe it!” he responds with a proud smirk.