Milwaukee's Best

Back in the beginning of March, I packed my bags and hopped on Amtrack, heading up to the far north to a moderately populated region of the country called Milwaukee. No, I wasn't sent away to some federal prison with walls made out of orange cheese run by a obese, yet jovial warden named Merle, although don't think I haven't had that recurring dream. It was work (and food) related, although I did get some visitors of the fairer sex during my first weekend up there. Also, Katy and Lily came for a visit.

Lily quite enjoyed the lush life, or as lush as the Hyatt can provide. The long hallways were a source of fascination and a chance to run/wobble as if coyotes were chasing her. She was also a big fan of room service, so long as the order included baked goodies and scrambled eggs. The reason for the seemingly underwhelming journey was the Milwaukee Auto Show, which I was working. Much as Lily was smitten with room service and 600 thread count linens, I became smitten with the General Lee replica at the show and the Chevy Equinox, which I have my eye on as the next HHH pace car, to be used to drive in parades that are thrown in my honor.

Of course, what is a work trip without expense account dinners? Somewhat surprisingly, Milwaukee proved to be a culinary paradise. I tried Ethiopian food for the first time at Alem, and despite being told by my mother growing up, "There are starving kids in Ethiopia" every time I didn't finish my plate, I was still able to put this out of my mind and enjoy the fantastic meal and robust Ethiopian ales. We also met our friends Jenny and Bill out at Karl Ratzsch's German restaurant, where our company was matched only by the sauerbraten (please read that in a hard, angry German accent for effect).

I would be remiss to leave out the amazing margaritas and guac at Charro, or the world's best hungover breakfast at Trocadero. Seriously, if you can only have one beverage the rest of your life, make it one of their Bloody Marys. Even if you don't like Bloody Marys. Even if you hate women named Mary. Or blood. It doesn't matter. I guarantee after you try one of theirs, you'll send me a blank check and write, "All kidding aside, I know we've had our differences, but I love you more than anything" in the memo line.

As for Milwaukee, I don't love it more than anything, but it was certainly an affair to remember.

Red rum! Red rum!

Me and Gwinny could get used to this room service thing. (She's a baby, so she doesn't say 'Gwinny and I' yet. She's learning, give her time.)

Karl, you had me at Sauerbraten and Wiener Schnitzel served with Red Cabbage and Potato Dumpling

Ethiopian food at Alem. You tear apart that spongy stuff (injera) and pick up the stuff that looks like baby food. Don't let the looks fool you. This is what God serves when he has people over.