New Salem, North Dakota
World’s Largest Holstein Cow (Salem Sue)
Trust me, you do not need the sign to find Salem Sue
Imagine a top-secret experiment in New Salem, North Dakota where a Holstein cow is saturated with gamma radiation to produce more milk. Suddenly something goes horribly awry, causing the beast to grow to a dizzying 38 feet tall and 50 feet long from nose to rump. The scientists flee in horror, leaving her on a lonely hillside high above Interstate 94 to await their return. Sounds like fiction? It is. But nevertheless, Salem Sue is a monstrous Holstein cow (not Brahma, nor Angus, nor Longhorn) that has overlooked I-94 half an hour west of Bismarck since 1974. As you approach New Salem from the east, you can make out her silhouette for 5 miles, finding yourself saying, “That can’t be it! No way!” Directions to Salem Sue are pointless – simply aim your car towards the giant cow.
Salem Sue keeping watch over Interstate 94
Sue is at the top (almost) of a hill accessed by a well-kept dirt road that winds its way around. A small kiosk at the entrance has flyers giving Sue’s history, and a tube with a slot that asks for a voluntary donation of $1 per carload, delightfully deposited into a milk can below. Seriously, we’re talking about a dollar for as many people as you can fit in your vehicle (thrifty folks are encouraged to rent a clown car). Pay the dollar – it goes to making sure Sue always has a fresh coat of paint and can be enjoyed by future generations of milk drinkers. Continue reading →
Ubaté, Cundinamarca, Colombia
Pescuezo de Gallina Relleno (La Chata)
La Chata is proof that the simplest pleasures are the best
The food of Colombia is an overwhelming assault on the senses. The rich, hearty cuisine of the people is the ultimate in comfort food, especially if your comfort zone overlaps the twilight zone. I will devote an article on the general food of Columbia, but there are a few culinary treats that deserve their own article, and pescuezo de gallina relleno is one of them. The name literally translates as “stuffed hen neck”, which is as fine a description of the poultry item as you could hope for.
Pescuezo de gallina relleno is not found across Columbia; it appears to be a specialty of the tiny town of Ubaté, about an hour’s drive to the north of Bogotá. The town is so renowned for their milk production that they have a statue of a cow in the center of the traffic circle as you first enter, past rows of specialty cheese shops. As tempting as the artisan cheeses are, we are on a mission to sample the gallina relleno, and most locals agree that the best is to be found at La Chata. Before images of a colonial-style restaurant with a red tile roof and a maître d’ in quaint ethnic clothing pop into your head, La Chata is essentially a stall in the middle of a row of similar stalls assembled around an open plaza. The stall is open at the front and back and furnished with white picnic tables and a counter where you can watch the food preparation over a wood flame stove. There are no decorations, nothing fancy here – just the sights and sounds of the locals enjoying the food.
I don't believe there's any question about what that was
I had seen the gallina relleno in a glass case at the front of the stall on a previous visit and knew I had to try it. The preparation is simple and yet quite unusual – the chicken’s head is cut off from the base of the neck. The beak, bones and flesh are removed, while the skull and cockscomb are left intact. Chicken blood is mixed with tiny diced potatoes, rice and peas, which are then stuffed back into the neck, with the skull blocking one end of what is essentially a chicken skin sausage casing. The open end is sewn shut and the glorious mess is roasted in the wood flames. The meal consisted of two pieces that were cut into smaller segments, revealing cross sections of the rich, delicious filling. The first bite was amazing; the rich, earthy taste of the chicken blood had been absorbed by the rice and potatoes, and every subsequent bite was heaven. The outer skin toughened up a bit during the roasting, making the cockscomb leathery but not impossible to eat. I attempted to pry the skull open to eat the chicken brain (if such a thing even exists), but it was roasted shut and the skin around the skull wouldn’t give. Someone else in our party had ordered the gallina, which was essentially a hen roasted with unlaid eggs still inside. Since she had no desire to eat them, I was offered the privilege. The eggs were almost all yolk, and with no hardened shell they were bite-sized nuggets of eggy goodness. They tasted like egg yolks boiled in chicken broth (which is essentially what they are).
An unlaid egg from inside the gallina
After the meal we walked around town awhile. Ubaté is a bustling little town, and the gothic-style Basilica Menor de Ubaté which stands watch over the main plaza is worth a visit. The church was completed in 1939 and its white spire can be seen from a distance like a delicate alabaster sculpture. If you decide to go, do me a big favor – let me know how the cow’s feet are. I’ll have to get those on my next trip to Colombia.
It is unusual for someone to want to visit a place where nothing happens, or ever will again, but Bodie, California is one of the best preserved ghost towns in the United States. The closest major city is probably Reno, Nevada, but I made the trip from the Los Angeles area through the Eastern Sierra Mountains, a distance of almost 400 miles. My only previous ghost town experience was Calico, near Barstow, California, and I can’t say it was a memorable one. The key difference is Calico was owned by Walter Knott (of Knott’s Berry Farm amusement park fame), who rebuilt and refurbished the tiny mining town with paved streets and gift shops that seemed to represent the ghost of Walt Disney. Bodie, on the other hand, is maintained by the State of California in a state of arrested decay, meaning that they nail a board back in if it comes loose, but they make no attempt to repaint, replace walls, etc., leaving the town exactly how it looked by the time the last residents high-tailed it out of there in the early 1960s.
The sleepy (dead) town of Bodie, California
Access to Bodie is via a 10 mile long winding road from US Highway 395, the last three of which is uneven gravel. I had reached the parking lot shortly before I was convinced the car was going to self destruct; the parking lot is on the outskirts so as not to detract from the abandoned look of the town. It’s recommended that you visit Bodie between Memorial Day and Labor Day as the climate can be fierce and cold, which explains the weather-beaten structures in the town. In heavy snowfall, the road in is impassable. Continue reading →
Today Solvang, California closely resembles a Capraesque Epcot Center pavilion where you’re lucky if you hear anyone speaking Danish. But don’t give up hope – although the city is rife with restaurants catering to American tastes like Subway, Domino’s Pizza and Kabuki Japanese Restaurant (what the H-E-double hockey sticks?) there are a few places where you can sample traditional Danish cuisine. Contrary to popular belief, the cuisine of Denmark does not consist of a Danish and a cup of coffee. Even the “Danish” restaurants have largely American menu items, but the best bang for your buck is at the places that have smörgåsbord (think Danish buffet). The Danes actually refer to this as kolde bord (smörgåsbord being a Swedish word), but the food is typical.
The New Danish Inn on Mission Drive had a decent smörgåsbord, but they have unfortunately closed; you can still head over to The Red Viking on Copenhagen Drive. The decor is much like all the other restaurants in Solvang – posters and maps of Denmark on the walls and rustic Scandinavian farm house motif throughout. Don’t mess with the menu – this is not the time to be thinking about a burger. As you saunter up to the serving table, if you see anything that looks like you can get it at Sizzler, leave it be. Although typical of smörgåsbord, the salad, roast beef, havarti cheese, brændende kærlighed (mashed potatoes) and kartoffelsalat (a potato salad that tastes remarkably like, well, potato salad) are not going to convince you that Danish cuisine is any different than what you can get in Peoria. Continue reading →
If you ever plan to motor west (or east from the Los Angeles area), why stay in a motel room when you can stay in a tipi. Technically, the concrete rooms at the Wigwam Motel aren’t tipis (alternately “teepees”), but they certainly aren’t wigwams (which are domed structures). Historically we’ve gotten the nomenclature wrong on all things Native American, not the least of which is the term “Indian”, a fact pointed out by Kumar Patel, the manager on duty on my visit. Blame Christopher Columbus, who assumed he had landed in India rather than pull over to a gas station to find out where he was.
There is no salmon fishing in the pool at the Wigwam Motel
If Columbus had taken old Route 66 through San Bernardino in 1949, he may have seen the newly-opened Wigwam Motel. This is one of three remaining Wigwam Motels built by Kentucky native Frank Redford, with one in Arizona and another in Kentucky still operating. The Wigwam had been a decaying slice of Americana since the Interstates diverted traffic from “the highway that’s the best.” An old sign (now relegated to the side of a small building at the back of the motel) beckoned, “Do it in a teepee,” a proposition not helped by the fact that there was a strip club operating on the opposite side of the highway (now an auto parts dealer). When the current owners bought the property, they began restoring the motel to its former glory. The property is clean and well kept, but according to Kumar, it has been a lot of work. The tipis are made of concrete and are 25 feet across, but remarkably roomy inside. There’s a small bathroom at the back that prompts disbelief that it actually fits inside. The room we saw was clean and looked comfortable and despite its kitschy atmosphere seems like a decent (and unusual) place to stay for the night. Continue reading →
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Manila Machine co-founder. Cake lover. Donut fiend.
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