Sunday went as Sundays go. Laundry. Groceries. Vacuuming. Until we chanced upon a Gospel Jazz Fest in Hessel Park. Over twice the size of Westside Park, Hessel's 27 acres hold ballparks, tennis courts, a playground, a water play area, and hundreds of oversized Midwestern trees. Hessel is one of the older parks in town, dating back to 1918.
This is what it looks like:
Imagine my surprise when we went to walk the dog and saw this banner on the Hessel sign:
Ainers grew up Catholic, so she never developed a keen ear for Gospel Music. She doesn't get that Tent Revival Adrenaline Rush like I do. As soon as heard the music through the trees, I started jumping up and down.
Canaan Development Foundation hosts a yearly benefit concert to raise funds for S.A.F.E. House, an organization that helps people with substance abuse problems. We stumbled onto the 15th Annual Gospel Jazz Fest and listened for a while to a phenomenal choir from Indiana. The Sounds of Praise, led by Sherri Garrison, is one of the music ministries from Eastern Star Baptist Church in Indianapolis.
Watch (forgive the shaky camera work, I'm a total noob):
Beer
After we left the Gospel Jazz Fest, it started to rain. And a rainy day calls for a good soup. We decided to make an old favorite: Chicken Tortilla Soup.
Any good rainy day soup needs a good rainy day beer. I wanted to try a local beer, since our latest local wine selection didn't pan out quite the way I had hoped. Turns out, in Illinois, not only do they sell liquor in grocery stores, but liquor stores are open on Sundays. Go figure. I had grown accostomed to the Central Texas breed of Spirits Merchants: informed, cosmopolitan, and surly. Imagine my shock at meeting my first Illinois Booze Monger: knowledgeable, hospitable, and gregarious. For a moment, I thought I had walked into a book store.
He was more than happy to aide us in our selection of a local brew. Local has a different meaning in Illinois than in Texas. Local here is more of a regional notion, there's a Midwestern Culture that spans the (often waterless) state borders. Local in Texas means specifically from Texas. Texas has this militant independence, this sort of isolated chauvinism that leads to world wars. Also, Texas is far away from anywhere.
That said, when trying local beers, wines, or whatevers, we'll include products from Wisconsin, Indiana, and Missouri. Maybe even Michigan if we're feeling generous.
Sunday, we chose the Domaine DuPage from the Two Brothers Brewery, a so-called French Style Country Ale. With a cloudy amber color and a strong caramelized, hoppy flavor, Domaine DuPage proved perfect for a rainy day. This beverage is welcome in our home any time.
The Two Brothers Brewery operates in Warrenville (in DuPage County... see what they did there?) just west of Chicago. Two Brothers Brewery (literally started by two brothers, Jim and Jason Ebel), started brewing for the public in 1996 and now offers 7 year round beers and 5 seasonal beers.
They also have an accidental gluten free beer. Let me explain. The FDA requires a gluten free beer to contain 20 parts per million or less of gluten. The Ebels realized that one of their beers, made from malted barley, has 5 parts per million of gluten. An enzyme used during the brewing process eats up the gluten molecule, giving them their accidental gluten free beer, the Prairie Path Golden Ale.
A Word on Salsa
We make our own salsa now.
A little bit because it's cheaper per ounce than salsa from a jar. Mostly because the salsa selection in Illinois is abysmal. After shopping at HEB, which has entire aisles devoted to small and large salsa brands from the southwest, finding the two or three brands on a single shelf here can reduce one to tears. You can find Newman's Own (headquartered in Connecticut, for God's sake) and maybe Pace, which doesn't count.
Let me tell you something about Pace. It's not made in San Antonio by people who know what salsa should taste like. Also, it doesn't taste like salsa. It tastes like Cholula with freeze dried chunks of pepper tossed in for color. In the mid 90s, Campbell Soup bought out Pace Foods and the closest Pace processing plant to San Antonio is in Paris, a small hamlet located in the narrow corridor of real estate between Dallas and the Red River. A geographical location Real Texans refer to as South Oklahoma (see also isolated chauvinism).
I found a recipe online that we now use. It requires a food processor. I know this because I burned up three blenders making this salsa. And by burned up I literally mean smoke and flames and blue arcs.
Here's the original recipe from The Pioneer Woman:
http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2010/01/restaurant-style-salsa/
We've tweaked it a little bit. If you're curious how, ask, but it tasted super duper in its original form as well.
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