Happiness from Onions

I ran across this today and thought you all would like it. I did.

  Onions

By William Matthews

How easily happiness begins by   

dicing onions. A lump of sweet butter   

slithers and swirls across the floor   

of the sauté pan, especially if its   

errant path crosses a tiny slick

of olive oil. Then a tumble of onions.

This could mean soup or risotto   

or chutney (from the Sanskrit

chatni, to lick). Slowly the onions   

go limp and then nacreous

and then what cookbooks call clear,   

though if they were eyes you could see

clearly the cataracts in them.

It’s true it can make you weep

to peel them, to unfurl and to tease   

from the taut ball first the brittle,   

caramel-colored and decrepit

papery outside layer, the least

recent the reticent onion

wrapped around its growing body,   

for there’s nothing to an onion

but skin, and it’s true you can go on   

weeping as you go on in, through   

the moist middle skins, the sweetest

and thickest, and you can go on   

in to the core, to the bud-like,   

acrid, fibrous skins densely   

clustered there, stalky and in-

complete, and these are the most   

pungent, like the nuggets of nightmare

and rage and murmury animal   

comfort that infant humans secrete.   

This is the best domestic perfume.   

You sit down to eat with a rumor

of onions still on your twice-washed   

hands and lift to your mouth a hint

of a story about loam and usual   

endurance. It’s there when you clean up   

and rinse the wine glasses and make   

a joke, and you leave the minutest   

whiff of it on the light switch,

later, when you climb the stairs.

Magical Goblets: HP & the Socerer's Stone

It was the kind of morning when you wake up, and all of your adult plans start evaporating. Me and two silly friends decided upon the first look of rain streaming down the window that Sunday was not going to be a day for grownups.

Damon and I had been house-sitting stay-cationing at Chad and Lorien's condo while they were in the burbs for the day. Really, it was a good excuse to play with their charming bulldog Fe, spend the afternoon watching the ManU-Fire game on the Soldier Field JumboTron viewable from their sunny pool deck, and catch a couple minutes of Harry Potter & the Prisoner of Azkaban. Upon their early arrival back home, we declared that we were not leaving. The stay-cation must continue!

The next morning over coffee, we realized our adult selves had vacated the apartment and 3 silly middle school party planners were left in their stead. (Sadly Damon had grown up duties to attend to so he vacated the premises pronto). Chad, Lorien and I were left with a rainy morning and Peter Pan syndrome. Scratch that. Harry Potter fever. None of us had any serious responsibilities and how better could three adults spend a Sunday afternoon than watching Harry Potter, drinking HP themed cocktails and eating HP themed foods?

 

Chad immediately jumped onto his iPad and began googling. Not surprisingly, we were not the first thirsty adults looking for some Hogwartian-inspiration. Though the Hermione Granger did seem tempting (mostly in its resemblance to a French 75), we were all smitten with the Moaning Myrtle. Vodka and champagne all bubbling and blubbering just like Myrtle herself. As a backup, we also stirred up a Lucius Malfoy, deceptively sweet lemonade with a kicker of rye whiskey underneath.

For snacks Lorien did her best to make wands: thick pretzel rods, dipped in chocolate-butterscotch chips, rolled in Snickers and Twix, and re-dipped. I always thought that the real wands used in the HP series were a bit thick but now I know why. You've got to have a thick want to get some decent magic out of it. (keep it clean kids). Our wands were decidedly thick but if shaken hard enough little bits of magic would fall off (aka Snickers). We decided the next go around, we would need some more dainty toppings.

The idea for golden snitches sprung from my wizardry wit.. Mashed potatoes, allowed to cool and rolled into palm sized balls, covered in cheddar and mozzarella and baked at 400 for 15 minutes. We also needed something a bit more substantial and Hufflepuff stuffed peppers fit the bill. The food was really just something for me to do. Our fab foursome often have dinner parties and the deal is, Lorien takes the lead on cocktails and I take the lead for food. Damon and Chad eat, drink and do cleanup while Fe curious inspects all that we have made and decides if it is consumable or not.

After one very large and very sweet and very bubbly Myrtle for each of us, Lorien declared, "I'm throwing the rest of this Moaning Myrtle down the drain." And we all fell into fits of laughter. It was a little kiddie day, with grown up accoutrements. By the time we actually turned on the movie, we had shopped at 4 different stores, called 12 in search of dry ice, purchased obnoxiously large goblets, whipped up some magic in the kitchen, wished desperately for costumes (in vein), and successfully located said dry ice. We watched HP Episode 1 and plan next week to continue in the series. Perhaps a Severus Snape may be the ticket and some sort of black roasted Death Eater. And who knows, maybe by the 7th movie we'll have this down to a neat science complete with cloaks and scarves to boot. Cheers to the first of an 8 part series.

Moaning Myrtle
2 oz Champagne
1 oz vodka
2 oz white grape juice
purple food coloring
green sugar (for rim dusting)
dry ice

Lucius Malfoy
4 oz lemonade
1 oz Templeton rye whiskey
slice of lemon for garnish

Sunday Night Detox: Fish Tacos & Agua Fresca

Why is it that every Sunday night, I feel the serious need for hydration and a detox and a light, easily digestible meal? Actually, I know the answer to that question. It's because we are in the full swing of summer which means festivals, barbeques, weddings, birthdays, concerts, parties, parties, parties outside all weekend long. This is what we live for. In the middle of February you ask yourself why you live in Chicago and suddenly an image of yourself on the patio at Sheffield's, El Cid 2, or Gene's Sausage Shop (pictured above and my favorite new rooftop of 2011), pops into your head. We live to dine and imbibe al fresco. Ok, perhaps that's a bit over stated but I don't think I'm alone when I say that when freezing at a bus stop, a little summertime imagining goes a long way.

Needless to say, I've found myself in serious detox mode come Sunday night. Plus, with a plethora of veggies from my CSA, that's usually about the time that I realize that I have 20 pounds of vegetables to contend with and a 60 hour work week ahead of me. Anybody with me?

Fish tacos have been the dish of the summer. If they're on the menu, I'm ordering them, and if the vegetables on hand at home can be finagled into a slaw, it's on. I had always been nervous of making fish at home, maybe because I've always lived in the Midwest and, until culinary school, believe those devious folk who say good seafood can't be made well in Chicago. It's not true! Any white fish (I've used tiilapia and halibut) lightly seasoned, dredged in corn meal and fried in a little vegetable oil is just about the easiest fresh prep there ever was. Plus this slaw is just about the easiest thing you'll ever grate. The recipe below is for 2, but you'll easily have leftovers and can double ingredients to your own taste.

Fish tacos
1 lb white fish (halibut, tilapia), cut into 1 inch chunks
3 limes, juiced
1 t dried oregano, cumin, onion powder, coriander
3/4 t Tabasco, divided
pinch of salt and pepper
8" flour tortillas

Slaw
1 kohlrabi (or 1/2 head of cabbage), grated
1 red or orange pepper
1 medium zucchini, grated
1 clove garlic, pressed
dash of white wine vinegar
1 T dried oregano
pinch of salt and pepper

Place fish in a medium bowl. Sprinkle herbs, 1/2  t Tabasco, salt and pepper over fish and toss to coat. Pour over juice of 1 lime. Cover and refrigerate for 10-30 minutes.

Set oven to broil. Set whole pepper (red or orange) just below the broiler a top a small piece of foil. Blacken on all sides, then remove from oven. Allow the pepper to cool slightly, and then put it in a ziplock bag, sealed. Set aside. (Click here for help on how to roast and peel your own peppers).

Peel kohlrabi with a paring knife, just under the surface of the skin. Using a large sized grater, grate kohlrabi and zucchini in a medium sized bowl. Add juice of 2 limes. Once cooled, remove pepper from bag and cut out stem and seeds.Peel the skin off and cut into half inch strips. Toss with kohlrabi and zucchini, season with herbs, 1/2 t Tabasco salt and pepper to taste.

Top with cilantro, cheese, and additional Tabasco if desired.

If you are feeling hard pressed for more refreshment going into Monday morning, try your hand at this super easy agua fresca from last year's Bon Appetit. Best enjoyed on a balcony.

Simple Kale Chips

Sometimes the simplest thing is the best thing. I'm finished with culinary school and if my lack of posts about that experience is at all telling, it was a serious time commitment. Culinary school is challenging, exhausting, sometimes monotonous, often times infuriating, and invigorating. So now what? Do I make bechamel and beurre blanc every night? Hell no. Sometimes the simplest thing is best. I introduced these chips to a dear group of friends last summer who kept saying, "Jo, you need to put things like this on your blog." And so here I am, culinary school over with and if I learned anything, it's that you've got to listen to your friends. They were the ones who encouraged me to go to school in the first place and boy oh boy were they right. So here you go Erin, Abbie and Melanie, who first had them last summer. Kale chips, step by step for you.

Preheat oven to 400. Peel the leafy greens from the thickest part of the stem.

Then rip leaves into palm size and spread in one layer over your biggest cookie sheets. Drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle with coarse salt* and finely grated parmesan or romano cheese.

Bake at 400 for 8 minutes or so. Listen for sizzling, and then watch so that the greens start to turn dark like this, but if they aren't quite crispy yet, keep cooking.

Till they look something more like this. Notably shrunken right?

Stack on a plate and add more cheese if desired. When you take a bite, first you'll get a crunch. Kind of like when you take your first bite of Crispix just after pouring milk in your bowl. Then a mouth full of salt; they are chips after all. Then a nutty sweet bite of cheese. Then the charcoal-ish, sweet, peppery bite of kale.

*A note about your salt. Use real salt. I mean, at least a Kosher coarse grain salt, but the last go round, I used some French grey sea salt and it makes a huge difference. See how big those grains are above? Yum.

PDX: A Wishlist

I think the first night I met Damon, he told me I would love Portland. Culinary destination, snowy mountains and clean streams nearby, wine country, oceans, and bikers galore, Portland grew over the years to be Damon's dream city. When markets grew frenetic, work became taxing and life just felt overwhelming, Portland was Chicago's perfect anithesis.

I've been long overdue. For the past three years, I've been crossing never-before-visited cities off my list: Ann Arbor, Las Vegas, New Orleans, plus countless little spots in Wisconsin and Michigan that are a short drive away after a weary work week in Chicago. But ultimate getaway town Portland, just hadn't made the cut. Until now. Credit card deals that were too good to be true (as it happened they were true) and the itch to get out of our concrete world were too overwhelming come late March. So we scratched: bought tickets and sealed the deal for four nights at the Ace Hotel in downtown Portland. Food trucks, wineries, music and sleep were on the horizon.

We took off prepared: an excel spreadsheet, 45 lines deep with restaurants, cocktail lounges, breweries and gardens to visit. We had been gathering recommendations from pretty much anyone who would be interested to give them: Bon Appetit, Imbibe, friends like Jessi and her blogger posse (click on each of these, they're gems!), Terri from Schubas' friends, a girl I bought a new chicken from just two weeks prior, anywhere. It was a full wishlist, but treated as just that. "We can't get too crazy Jo," he knows me so well. I inherited the genetic disposition to over schedule and typically find myself planning for too much with too little time to relax and breathe.

A delayed connection in Dallas had us spending our Thursday night dinner plans at TGIFriday's, watching the Bulls clinch game six. As we checked into the Ace at 1 am, the stools along the Clyde Common bar were turned legs up, patrons long gone, shakers cleaned, ovens off. Rats. It's just a wishlist. Just a wishlist.

Friday we hit the ground running. Literally. 7:10 am found us jogging along the Willamette, then we rented bikes and found gardens, breweries, shopping and a good nap. Dinner that night was the one firm reservation of the weekend. Beast is a 26 seat, prix fixe, open kitchen, communal dining gem of a spot. It's a sort of dance to be in such an intimate space and watch Chef Naomi and her team create and present, then create and present as we nod and chew and give thanks. We strolled over to the McMeniman's Kennedy school, a 1920's elementary school turned bar/hotel/restaurant/soaking pool. How is it that every spot thus far can just seem so...Portland? We danced our dinner off to TBT at the Wonder Ballroom, with loudly tapping feet and spins to bluegrass banjo, violin and guitar in overdrive. Thrash grass is one good dance party.
 

On Saturday we settled into a more manageable pace. Kenny & Zuke's a causal Jewish delicatessen round the corner from the Ace provided the perfect breakfasting spot to meet a dear friend en route from Seattle to San Fran as she was driving her life down just that weekend. Afterward, a long shot from a google search turned out to be one of the highlights of the weekend. Hidden stairways weave throughout Washington Park, scurrying up through and between the graceful old houses precariously perched above the Rose Test Gardens, we toured the back allies of one of the most beautiful bits of Portland. Next time someone asks for foodie recommendations of where to go, I'll give them this. With all the food places I had to visit, stairs were what I craved already on day 2. Phew. After feeling exercised and digested what's next? Pok Pok. Thai street food elevated to James Beard excellence, drinking vinegars (honey and grapefruit), black grilled prawns, huddled over a picnic table with formica pale green roofing loosely juxtaposed to keep the drizzly afternoon cold out.

More naps, more breweries to discover and then another surprise, not on the wishlist. At a friend's wedding last summer, Damon made friends with some folks that are always looking to recruit new transplants to join them in the getaway city. We noshed at Farm Cafe, D and I much too full to give the menu a proper tasting but toasted hazelnuts in rosemary and Tabasco was a true highlight, while cooling my mouth on a GINger fizz, ie gin and tonic splashed with ginger liqueur. They took us around the corner to the Roadhouse where the jukebox is loaded with free plays of Ella Fitzgerald, Slayer, Beach Boys and Cat Stevens and a whiskey with beer back is $3.75. Portlandia hit it right on the head. This is where young people go to retire. Potato Champion's poutine and PB&J fries had been mentioned by two cab drivers and our new hosts as the best food truck food in the city and knowing we would head out of the city early Sunday morning, they had to be sampled post-Roadhouse.

Sunday cracked open with thunder and a constant drizzle that everyone told us would surely inhibit our fun, but we wouldn't hear of it. We hopped in an obnoxiously red rental and whisked out to the Dundee Hills to find the land of Pinot Noirs. Arriving too early for tastings, we cruised along the hillsides, stopping at one of D's favorites, Torii Mor for a breathe of fresh rain in a Japanese garden. I had in my head that I needed local honey, for what better gives one a taste of the land than a combination of all the sweet flowers and fruits that can grow in one place? We found Beverly's roadside stand, in front of her house. "We've been keeping for, gosh 40 years and you've gotta be crazy to do it. Sure all of us have been hit by that disappearance of hives but you just get new ones and move on." Her honey today was raspberry honey, her second favorite to a legume that grows as a purple vine, "but nobody grows that anymore. These wineries have pretty much eaten up all the good farming land out here." Luckily that monoculture hasn't hurt the bees too much. Our one tasting of the day was at Domaine Serene, a suggestion from our Saturday hosts, and judging from the package that's due to arrive at Damon's office by the end of this week, we were quite impressed with their selection. Wine fridges should never be as empty as his has been as of late.

We asked the folks at Domaine for a lunch spot and stumbled upon one of the best meals of the weekend. Surprising find number three not on the wishlist. Red Mills' Market is precisely the kind of place I could see myself owning, loving, running. A small selection of charcuterie and cheeses, wood-fired pizzas and craft sandwiches, local brew and wine for carryout or to be enjoyed with lunch, and shelves full of McClure's pickles, more honey, olive oil (who knew Oregon grew those too), kiddie foodie placemats, and pottery. Kitchen herb pots with six little herbs tucked in a hand-thrown pot line the sidewalk outside. I'm enamored. D & I couldn't leave without dragging those two brew mugs with us, plus a teeshirt or two, a set of 4 breeds of bull coasters, and a little ginger-sea salt chocolate. It was perfect. The kind of perfect where you're so comfortable and so happy you say, "if this is what it means to be with you, I want to be with you forever" and then realize what you've said, blush and look back up to see the biggest smile returning your gaze. It was a good find.

So, we got romantic. And whenever D is feeling romantic he thinks about the Oregon coast. Off we went 2 more hours spent in the car but cruising through thick pine forests didn't for a minute feel like a chore. Radio coverage was too sparse, trees too thick so a quiet, thoughtful ride was had to the shore. There it was still drizzly, still chilly but wide open beaches and huge monolithic rocks in the distance make you just want to run in the cold air like a happy dog does in a big open field. We ran, arms out wide, hoods up to cover our red ears, and grins wide. This is vacation. We called a real estate 800 number to find out about a little cottage on the market and after hearing 1.8 million decided that this item on the wishlist should probably stay there for a few more years.
 

Clyde Common was waiting for us upon our return. And only after a nap and long shower did I feel ready to enter back into the civilized world. Bon Appetit wrote up Jeremy's Barrel aged negroni and at one sip, I felt like we were just back in Chicago, comfortably perched at L&E. But the reminder of Portland sprung back to my mind at our food's arrival. Spring is much further along in Portland so asparagus, peas and fava beans were a welcome fresh bite.

Sunday morning we opted for a light, healthy breakfast: hiking up on Mount Tabor with Voodoo Doughnuts and Stumptown and a sun-shiny morning to send us on our way.

What a runaway. I hardly cracked my list, and have a whole slew of places to discover for next time but I wouldn't have had it any other way. I'm including my wishlist below, just in case any of you may be inspired to have your own getaway in lovely Portland and need some recommendations. It can sit there, ready for me to pick it up again when the next cheap flight comes my way. But I won't forget that the highlights were the unknowns, the unanticipated conversation with a farmer, the little herd of piglets running away from our car as we cruised up to Torii Mor, running/flying on the beach in the cold, salty air, the moments I found myself just looking at Damon, thinking my own thoughts and smiling. Good life happens in those unexpected things that aren't part of a wishlist.

the Wishlist: (those underlined are the places we actually made it to)

Breweries: Bridgeport, Deschutes, Rogue, Amnesia, Green Dragon, Belmont Station, Hair of the Dog, McTarnahan's, Lucky Lab

Bars: Kennedy Shool, Gilt Club, Teardrop, House Spirits Distillery, The Bye and Bye, Holoscope

Restaurants: Clyde Common, Pok Pok, Ping, Broder, Screen Door, Nostrana, Beast, Kenny & Zukes, Bunk Sandwiches, Le Bistro Montage

Food trucks: any at SE Morrison & 12th, Potato Chamion (PB&J fries), Crown Q, Schnitzelwich,

Wineries: Tori Mor, Domaine Serene, Erath, Anne Arnie, Cristom

Gerasimus the Trucker Tripel: DIY beer brewing

My dear mother always told me that once her girls grew up she wanted them to have accomplished two things:
1. get through college and find a career to support yourself; and
2.  learn how to drive stick so that we could drive a truck to save our life.
#1 makes good sense to me but #2 has always been a head scratcher. Why a truck? Why could that save my life? You can ask Mer next time you see her because I've never gotten a legitimate hypothetical for when that could come to pass. Moral of the story is my mom was always a DIY'er and wanted her girls to take on in similar fashion. When we couldn't afford big fancy birthday parties at Discovery Zone, my mom would create elaborate homemade forts, with the perfect-almost-store-bought-looking Barbie skirted birthday cake. She sewed all her own clothes up through college and to this day has some knitting project in a brown wicker basket at the foot of her bed ready to pick up and work on when she has a few spare hours.

Her daughters' apples haven't fallen far from the tree. B is an avid knitter, felter (one who felts, you know) and sewer (my birthday request was homemade handkerchiefs) while K had some bouts with pottery, weaving and knitting and has settled on quilting. Everyone makes new babies in the family clothing, blankets and toys. And then there's Aunty JoJo. Yes, she'll make zuc-choco bread for kiddos when they're in town, but presents in the mail come from Amazon and housewarming gifts usually come in the form of a 750 mL bottle.I'm working on that.

Christmas 2009 I launched my accommodating boyfriend in his own DIY direction. Damon got a full homebrewer kit and for your perusal, below are his experiments, thus far:
Freckled Nose IPA... Double IPA

E-I-Ale... American IPA

Baba's Rice Pudding Stout... Stout

Pinballhead Wizard American Wheat

Skeletor Stout

Ole Chipotle Ale

I've always played brewers assistant, helping stir the boiling 5 gallon pot of wort, hold feed lines, and cap bottles one they've been filled with our fragrant brew. Out of 37 Saturdays spent working on some part of the brewing process, my guess is on at least 20 Damon's apartment reeked of hops.

Last month's trip to Brew & Grow to pick up a seed start kit tempted me to take the reins and play head brewer, just this once. I picked up a Belgian Tripel kit and kicked off the process four weeks ago. The Tripel is a widely popular Trappist brew. Brewer law says I can't name my beer "Monk" or "Trappist" anything because Damon's place isn't technically a monastery (though by the amount of beer that's brewed in it one could argue that it could qualify as such). So my extra malty, big headed, creamy, sweet brew will be called Gerasimus the Trucker Tripel. Gerasimus is the Patron saint of Kefalonia who always has his eye over Damon's apartment and the Trucker bit is a simple nod to the random skill that could get me out of a bind someday.

The whole brewing process takes about 4 weeks until the beer is just barely ready and goes something like this: boil wort (grains as pictured above with water) and add malt, hops, sugar and yeast. Let that whole deal sit for a week, then transfer it to a fresh carboy (as pictured above) after one week, leaving the sediment that's collected in the bottom of the old one. Then after a week more of bubbling, bottle and sit for another week. Then we pop a bottle in the fridge and after two days, pour it out into a clean lovely piece of stemware.

I'll be enjoying these brews, all 42 of them, for up to year as it improves with a bit of age. While I probably won't be sending my new niece a 6 pack for her 1 year old birthday, I like the idea of little food gifts that I can preserve, put up and dish out through the year. Plus with this new subscription on my coffee table, I'm thinking my next beverage challenge will be a syrup, liqueur, or some such thing. Ahh the DIY adventures to be had. Despite my projects being slightly different than those of my sisters, I think my mom would be proud.  I've checked #1 and #2 off the list and am off to find my own sort of creative home activities: non-traditional, non-Michael's/Joann Fabrics-based, not super kid friendly but me. They're appropriate to who I am and where I am at right at this moment. Barbie cakes and knitted sweaters I'll save for another day.

Seed starters

There's a lamp on 15 hours a day on my three season back porch again.  Didn't it just seem like yesterday that I had fuzzy chicks on my back porch, cheeping away under a heat lamp and growing exponentially every day?  These days the girls are all grown up and have taken to each laying one egg a day, giving us endless delight in the form of surplus protein.  If you haven't gotten eggs yet from us, ask.  Last I counted, we had 4 days last week where we found 3 eggs in our little nest, compared with all winter where we'd maybe find 1.

This time around the growing things under our heat lamp aren't chirping, they're just growing steadily, quietly, faithfully under a serene piece of plastic.  Seeds.  Beautiful heirloom vegetables and herbs are getting their start a little early this year.  Over on Gapers Block, I recommended to Chicago that they get moving on their seeds for the season and promptly heeded my own advice.  I hauled myself up to Brew & Grow and, after getting a bit distracted in their beer kits and picking up a Belgian Tripel kit for next weekend, I was persuaded by B&G's knowledgeable staff to pick up starter plugs (last years peat pots and starter mix failed miserably), a one piece lighting system (that actually doesn't produce heat, rather economically efficient wavelength light for growing), and a little indoor watering pot.  We picked up a few brewing freebies too-- a taste of the alt beer they had on tap and a half gallon of their house made compost tea.

On that drizzly Monday night, Melanie and I plopped ourselves down in the middle of our kitchen floor, scattered seed packets in logical planting order, readied Melanie's handmade grid and began to plant.  We had 98 spots, 17 packets of seeds and felt ready to make some tough decisions.  How many chive plants do we really need?  And will we have room for 5 different kinds of tomato plants if we want to grow 4 of each variety?  We're going to need some serious yardage.  Last time I checked, little to nothing grows in my back yard (save chickens) but luckily, I snagged a spot at a newly established community garden plot just a few blocks away.  Check out our grid below--I made it extra big for your reading ease.  I know, we got a bit over zealous on the tomatoes but is there anything better than a tomato straight out of the garden?  I could swoon just thinking about it.

Plugs are brilliant.  You drop the seeds into their little pot, and voila!  You're done. No mucky soil under your nails, no soil all over my kitchen floor, just seeds and plugs all neatly tucked in their little tray.  I am really really hoping that these plugs prove to be the brilliant hydroponic miracle plugs that they claim.  So far, things are looking fantastic.

I turn on the light on at 6 am when I leave for work and then off again just before bed to give the seeds their full 16 hours of daylight, plus keeping their plugs moist with some organic grower feed.  For all the work, I'm delighted that spring has come early in my little apartment.  I like having projects working quietly at home as I work and if there is anything I can do to lengthen the uber-short growing season in Chicago, I'll do it.  Thus far the cucumber is winning by a long shot, followed by beets and carrots.  I'm not quite sure what to do once these guys outgrow their plugs but aren't quite ready for the cold Chicago outdoors but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.  Actually, let's be honest.  I'll probably run up to Brew & Grow and ask them what to do, and pick up another beer making kit, have another little sampler and be inspired to keep growing.  That's what we should be feeling inspired to do come springtime.  Keep growing.