Bloomington's Local Weekend

It's the Bloomingtonians last weekend before our small summer community explodes into a metropolis filled with people going the wrong way on our streets, crowding the bike lanes and making the wait time at our "watering holes" unbearable. So over the last two weeks, I've dined at most of my favorites. Let's start with Finch's Brasserie on Kirkwood. Lunch on the patio with a view of the Sample Gates at the entrance to campus is perfect. The food is always wonderful--particularly the pizzattas. Just to be different, I tried the smoked brisket on ciabatta bread. It was certainy smokey and flavorful. The homemade pommes frites were also super. Finch's needs to go on every person's short list of Bloomington favorites.

Then there's the new "Scenic View" on Hwy 446 on the way to Lake Monroe. The restaurant's gone through a number of reincarnations over the years but this one has to be the best. As the name implys, there's a spectacular view of Lake Monroe from either the patio or the indoor seating which should only get better as the trees begin to turn. Go for the burgers (either beef or lamb) or the baked-on-site pizza. I've also heard good reviews on the barbeque sandwich as well.
There are also some other changes on the restaurant scene since the students left. One is the new menu and chef at Chapmans. Evidently, a former chef from Truffles has returned to town and hopes to breath new life and business into this far east side, recently remodeled eatery. Loads of dough had to have been spent on the refurbishing of the interior. Evidently, now the owners are doing same with the menu.

Lastly, Nicks Old English Hut, a Bloomington landmark since the late 1920s has expanded its seating for families on the mezzanine. The tall tables have been replaced with regular tables and MORE OF them to accommodate the grandparents, parents, teenagers, children, toddlers and even babies. (I'm leaving it at that and not going any further for fear I'll go too far.)

So, now that locals' weekend is nearly over and the 30,000+ folks are on their way. Bloomington is ready...as we are this time every year. Target is stocked to the ceiling. The mattress salesmen are back on the street corners and we've eaten at our faves, I say, Bring 'em on. Go Hoosiers.

You can come home again

Last Saturday was IU homecoming. Even though I'm already "home," homecoming weekend still feels like a special day and time with a holiday aura. B'ton swells with returning alums anxious to show their children, mates or significant others where they guzzled their last collegiate beer, the exact booth where they drank it, and any other sorted details they can remember that could be associated with that particular ritual. The lines at the Steve and Barry's collegiate sportswear outlet curl out to the street and the community sees red (actually cream and crimson) for at least 48 hours. Nicks is standing room only with as many as three generations of IU alumni. (Its a good thing, we know where to find it, since its historical neon sign is nearly unnoticeable due to the concrete fire wall of the apartment construction next door.)

Homecoming 2007 events started Friday afternoon with the customary parade down third street and ending at the Sample Gates. That evening was the annual homecoming concert at Assembly Hall with Bob Dylan the headliner. We've gone from Bob Hope to Bob Dylan and Elvis Costello. It's too much to imagine that Dylan was originally popular with most of the current co-eds' grandparents. Yup. The times, they are a changin'.

Even nature contributed to the festive atmosphere. In spite of the lack of rain and drought conditions, the trees on campus put on a spectacular light show in all imaginable colors of crimson, gold and pumpkin.

And the roads to Brown County and French Lick were bumper to bumper with pilgrims seeking fall color magnificence. They were not disappointed. So with that, I'm glad to share some wonderful images of fall in Bloomingtown.

A Stromboli Like No Where in the World

Nearly every region or city has its signature sandwich. Maine has the lobster roll, Philadelphia has the Philly steak sandwich, Chicago has the hotdog and San Diego has the fish taco. In Bloomington--its the Stromboli sandwich. Available in the whole and half versions, crusty, French-like bread with sesame seeds is coated in side with pizza sauce, then piled high with crumbled Italian sausage, onions and mozzarella cheese. The sandwich is then slide into a pizza oven to melt the cheese and slightly toast the bread.

Then comes the service. No strom can be served without a heaping handful of bread and butter slices--not dill pickles or sweet gherkins--bread and butter pickles. I don't actually know why. But I do know its not a strom until the pickles are added.

Back in the day, before college co-eds shunned cholesterol and meat protein, stroms were the "delivered-to-you-door" late-night favorite snack. The lenght of the sandwich was directly related to the date situation of the evening.

Whole, 12-inch versions were usually eaten by us poor souls who were left at the sorority house on a Saturday night. In between bites, we'd grumble and curse the frat jerks we'd been dating for months who then decided to invite other chickies to the world's greatest college weekend.

Smaller sandwiches were reserved for Sunday nights or mid week snacks. Being smaller, they were easier to eat and caused less guilt in front of the 90 pound "sisters".

Where do you go for the best Bloomington Stroms?

The answer is simple--Kirkwood Avenue. If you're under 21 or prefer soft drinks to hard ones, it's The Cafe Pizzaria, and Nicks English Hut if you're over the legal age. They're only a few doors apart. Both are authentic and delicious. Your choice depends on the type of beverage you prefer to wash down every morsel. Most of us prefer a cold beverage of the hops and malt variety. More important, both Nicks and the Pizzaria have been landmarks in Bloomington for generations...and sometimes you'll see representatives of each one sitting all at one table gobbling up every crumb of sausage and fightening over the last pickle.