A Slice of Heaven

A couple of weeks back, the day I handed the first four tracks off to Schuyler, I had been sitting in the Dinkytowner waiting for my food. I was reading City Pages, drinking coffee. I came across a Dish review, something I don't normally read. It was on the topic of a food based road trip around the Upper Mississippi River area near Red Wing and Wabasha, MN. I love Red Wing. It's a place of sanctity and debauchery, a place where my mom and her friends come up and we drink ourselves into a stupor of political rants and a drunken spluge of compliments. My mom and I have gotten really close because of these trips, actually. I look forward to Red Wing visits every October, which is when they come up and I go down for the Art Festival they hold every year.

The article in City Pages described how the author's entourage had stopped off in a small town in Wisconsin called Stockholm. A place called the Stockholm Pie Company was situated there. Apparently, the pies make grown men cry, and makes even near death victims crave a taste of luscious rhubarb after falling into the river ice, skipping out on a hospital visit. They then moved on to nearby Pipen, WI, to take in another restaurant, finally ending up in Red Wing, to make the story short.

I texted Marta, saying "We should take a day trip for pies, fish, and alcohol!"

Fast forward to today: I wanted to take a trip for Memorial Day weekend. I was originally planning on visiting the Badlands in South Dakota, but the weather was going to be crappy. This morning, I thought of the article, and ran out into the living room where Taylor and Marta were talking. I said "HEY! You guys wanna go to Wisconsin to take in the best pie ever?! And then go to another town and eat, end up in Red Wing for drinks?!"

They weren't sold. I offered to pay for drinks in Red Wing. Taylor was sold. This made Marta sold on the subject.

We dressed, packed into my car, and drove an hour and a half southeast to Stockholm amidst the beauty of Lake Pepin, a wider section of the Mississippi. Across the water, rolling hills stretched as far as the eye could see with fresh green leaves peeking out after only a week's time after the long, horrid winter. We stopped near a small antique shop, and walked into the Stockholm Pie Company. We started to read a laminated version of the article I had read in the Dinkytowner to see if there were any recommendations from the author. There were none. So we embarked on choosing for ourselves.

We almost couldn't.

Seeing all of the pies, all made from scratch, in a fridge across from the register, all the choices scratched into the chalk board serving as a menu, the two slice deals, the root bear floats, the ice cream . . . I almost lost it. I settled on a 2 1/2 slice deal: Strawberry Lemon and Peanut Butter Fudge. Holy crap, I've never tasted a pie that delicious! It seriously was a slice of heaven, as they so correctly advertise in their logo.

We took in some wine tasting at a nearby cheese/wine shop called The Good Apple. Afterward, we walked down to the river, cutting through a small campground, and came out onto a warf jetting out into the middle of the river. Upon entering the clearing, the wind blew into my body. I breathed it in and sighed "God." Reminds me of the dad in Beetlejuice. "It's perfect. Juuuuust perfect!" It seriously was great to get out of the house, the city, and into the country in such a beautiful locale.

We walked back into town and took some back roads, looking at a church, gardens, backyards. Cafes were decked with small gardens and fountains, promising relaxing times with espresso and ice cream. It was a European town. I'll be back one day.

We moved on to Pepin, WI. Not as pretty, but the view by the river was still stunning. We stopped at the Harbor View Cafe, decided we were still full from the pie, and walked out onto another warf. We took in a duo singing and playing covers of old classic standards, country songs, bossa nova, and folk, complete with violin, banjo, acoustic guitar, hollow body electric, creating accompaniment from a Boomerang pedal system, where the player first plays an intro instrument, then presses a button that triggers a recording of the first instrument to continue playback, wherein the player can then move onto other instruments to layer on top of the first instrument. We do a little bit of that in Patch, actually . . .

We went back to the restaurant and found out that the wait was going to be an hour. So we got a frisbee out of my car and played a little bit of awkward disc in a parking lot of a boat launch. We went back to listen to some more music and to buy some beer at a nearby bar, but upon getting our drinks we found out that debit cards were not accepted. So I had to run to a nearby gas station to get cash. Immediately after paying for the drinks our name was called. Luckily the Harbor View allowed us to bring the drinks in with us.

Here's where the day took a mood swing of sorts. We were instructed to look at a menu posted on a busy section of wall, where we had to dodge an ongoing bustle of traffic going to and fro between the kitchen, bathrooms, and tables. All of the prices were $13 and up. Jeesh. We all had to settle on the smallest price, a lasagna dish. We sat and talked about feminism, why domestic abuse will never cease in the world, all sorts of interesting topics. The waitress was less than adequate, unfortunately. Marta and Taylor wanted to split the dish, trying to save on cash that was already in question of emptying out a bank account. We were to find out later on that Marta's salad, which was supposed to be included with the meal, was charged an extra $7. They didn't split up the salad along with the lasagna. It was seven dollars, but that's a bit much for us tight wads. She didn't explain initially. Plus, the waitress ran into my shoulder with my cesar salad, didn't seem to care for us (since we were probably the table that would produce the least amount of pay amongst the midlifers all around us). It was the only time I felt like paying less than the standard minimum tipping amount. I don't recommend this place to my peers. I recommend going to the nearby Pickle Parlor, which is actually ON the river and sports a deck outside with, most likely, a menu you can look at in the comfort of your own lap, with reasonable prices. I guess City Pages is for the heavy income midlifers as well, as we were a little shocked at the prices. I always thought City Pages was for our crowd. Strange . . .

Taylor and Marta were in somewhat somber moods from then on, which created a sense of lone enthusiasm on my part. I was floored by the sunset, the town of Lake City, MN on the way to Red Wing. No one shared, vocally at least, the same enthusiasm.

We got to Red Wing just as the last of the sunlight was fading. We tried going to an underground restaurant called the Port of Red Wing, the restaurant my mom and friends have taken me to the last couple of years, but they were closing up. We ventured to the bar that the City Pages article had given kudos to, called Norton's Downtown and Lucky Cat Lounge, apparently owned by the former bassist of Husker Do. It looked like a cruise ship. Not only were we the youngest people there, finding ourselves within the confines of Hawaiian shirts and khakis, but the decor of the place resembled a midway within a Carnival ship. Lots of emerald greens, pink and blue lighting, orange floors, newly made wooden chairs, IKEA lighting systems. The live band resembled either a wedding band or a bar band taking residence within the resort towns of Cancun or Cozumel, Mexico. Marta and I had Mojitos while Taylor had a Mighty Arrow beer. We were tired, and the mood had not lifted. Marta and I went to dance awkwardly on the dance floor for a song, alongside the older wedding dancers doing repetitive movements screaming "In Only 5 Short Lessons, YOU TOO Can Dance!"

This got us laughing, while Taylor made a phone call to his mom. He found out some bad news on his dad's side of the family, which of course would not lift the mood for him, and things pretty much went back to neutral. I still blame the waitress in Pepin.

We got back around 11:30 or 12:00, I'm not sure. All I know is that I crashed within 10 minutes of unlocking the back door to be let inside.

In summary: start on the Pepin Lake circle tour early, around 11:00am. Visit Stockholm, take it in as you digest the best pie you'll most likely ever try. Go to Pepin for Lunner, go to the Pickle Parlor on the riverside. Travel to Lake City, MN for another snack, like Calimari or french fries. Have a walk around the marina. Then go to Red Wing before the sun goes down to take in a little bar hopping before going home around 10:30.

This first time was a test run. The next time we will have the time of our lives . . .

Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson -- "Woodfriend"