Tag Archives: Milwaukee

These are a few of my favorite things. Milwaukee style.

City Hall, you’re a gorgeous broad.

It’s almost the time of year during which I like to belt holiday tunes, like “My Favorite Things.” Which, really, how did that make the transition from “The Sound of Music ” to being a holiday tune? I mean, I don’t mind, but it’s just weird, right? ANYWAY, in the spirit of giving (Yes, I realize it’s not even Halloween yet. BACK OFF.), I give you a list of some of My Favorite [Milwaukee] Things. Go to these places. Do these things. You’ll be happy, I promise.

Milwaukee Public Market: Where else can you get a delicious salad, sip a glass of wine, get Kehr’s chocolate and score some fresh flowers and equally fresh cheese?

Milwaukee Art Museum: Seriously can’t say enough good things about this place. Getting a membership was one of the best decisions we ever made. We check out every special exhibit and love lingering over favorite pieces in the permanent collection as well. I could stare at the Gabriele Münter paintings for hours.

Splash: Wine meets artistic endeavors? I’m in! Sip a glass of wine and paint a pretty picture. If that doesn’t sound fun to you, well, I’m just not quite sure what to think.

Excuse me while I kiss the sky.

Pedal Tavern: Pedal your way from bar to bar in Milwaukee’s Historic Third Ward, Fifth Ward and Walker’s Point. You’ll discover some amazing bars and have a ridiculously good time in the process.

The Cheese Mart/Bar: Hello. This should be an obvious one. It’s cheese. ALL THE CHEESE.

The Spice House: Spices galore. My kitchen is stocked with their Old World Third Street spice, Brady Street Cheese Sprinkle and many other delightfully-named and delicious seasonings.

Oak Leaf Trail: Fantastic biking opportunities. Downtown. The burbs. All over the place.

Lakefront Brewery: Long live Riverwest Stein.

Jing’s Chinese: Best. Chinese. Food. Ever. Seriously my favorite Chinese.

Did you notice these pictures don’t match the things I’m talking about? You caught me red-handed. In my defense, these pictures are all of Milwaukee lovelies though.

Blu, at the top of the Pfister: Went here to celebrate after getting engaged. It has dazzling views of Milwaukee, and the raspberry mojitos, well, they’re just a bonus.

The Riverwalk: Best way to see Milwaukee up close and personal.

Smoke Shack/AJ Bombers: My mouth waters just thinking about both of these places.

Lake Michigan, you’re lovely. Don’t ever forget it.

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You want me to move where?

“Milwaukee. It’ll be nice. Yeah, it snows a lot and it’s super duper ridiculously cold in the wintertime, and well, we’ll have to teach you how to scrape your car. But it’s great there. They have lots of beer. And cheese,” said Russ

“Beer and cheese? I’m in! … wait, just how cold are we talking?”

That’s kinda how the conversation went down last fall, as Russ began investigating job prospects to fill the void sure to be left in his life once he completed all his experiments on 700-pound, cholesterol-ridden pigs and obtained his shiny new Ph.D.

I’m honestly not sure how he convinced me that it was a good idea to pack up our worldly possessions (They’re not many, who am I kidding? They basically consist of a Barbie Doll-sized kitchen table, his collection of sci-fi books and my yard-sale-purchased game of Scrabble) and move from the beautiful, warm, sunny, friendly state of North Carolina to what I envision to be the frigid cold, distinctly unfriendly tundra of Wisconsin. I’m pretty sure he’s a conversational wizard. Or I was good and drunk. Either is a distinct possibility.

Whatever the case may be, moving we are. And despite my fear that I’m gong to turn into a popsicle the minute I set foot on Wisconsin soil, I’m actually pretty excited about the whole thing. I mean, when else am I going to get to wear the warm and toasty hat/scarf/gloves combo I crocheted myself in a caffeine-fueled frenzy last fall?

It’s going to be an adjustment for this gal, who’s pretty much only lived below the Mason Dixon Line. I’m accustomed to winters lasting, oh, about four months, and scraping the occasional millimeter-thick frost with a credit card.

You’re telling me I’m going to need a legitimate ice scraper doohickey? But won’t my hands get cold?