Mrs. JiLS and I made a very impromptu visit to Galena this weekend. It was our first visit, made on a whim (9:00 Saturday morning: "What'd you like to do; I don't have to work?" Galena was the natural choice.). Blessed with perfect weather, we were both awed by the non-glaciated hills and valleys of Jo Daviess County, looking nothing so much to Mrs. JiLS as her home state central New York or, even more, Pennsylvania. Who'd a thunk there were actually natural features you'd be afraid to fall off of in Illinois? Well, it's a big state.
On the way, we had a miserable time trying to find anything other than a homeless shelter or biker bar open in Rockford, followed by a fun and potentially repeatable lunch at the Crooked River Cafe on the lovely main Street of Pecatonica. We were a week early for the
Winnebago County Fair, but it was made up for by a meal at the counter that was like eating at the wet bar in your uncle's den, if your uncle happened to have a pretty, intelligent and oppressed 16-year old Mexican-American girl apprentice cook who (in your Uncle's opinion) just couldn't seem to get it that that sandwich was on "whole wheat ... whole wheat ... NO! Whole Wheat! ... No, no, no! WHOLE WHEAT! OK, that's whole wheat. What the? Bacon! Make more bacon!" I felt for the old man, and the girl, in equal parts, as they seemed doomed to torment each other, but not intentionally, as if on the third-and-a-half circle of Heck. The hamburgers we ordered (actually patty melts) were perfection. Excellent, flavorful and properly seasoned meat, not too thick or thin, cooked just below medium (suppose they'd customize something more rare on request), a real treat. No fries, chips. Insane volumes of framed art on the walls, all available for purchase from a neighboring gallery.
Anyway, we drove on to Galena (with one intervening stop for some fine roadside corn and tomatoes), with the intent of driving back that night, but by 4:00 knew that wouldn't happen. A stop at the Visitors Center and a couple of phone calls later, we were set up with reservations at
The Victorian Mansion and dinner at
111 Main for dinner. The B&B was an excellent accommodation, remarkable furnishings and grounds, and thoughtful management (even great sound design; light classics in the lobby blend seamlessly into small combo jazz on the porch as you stroll onto the 1.5 acre terraced garden that is the yard).
111 Main was picked primarily because of the humorous menu (e.g., appetizers labeled "Things you won't want to share") and the fact that clearly, this place was created to make Chicagoans feel comfortable ordering dinner one door down from Iowa. Anyway, despite the hemi-demi-pretensions of the place, the service, setting and food were really quite good. Good soup, good salad dressing (made in-house, a blue cheese that was presented almost as a foam), a very fine steak. Nothing extraordinary, but all well prepared and presented. Plus, the house Cab was not half bad, at $21. We got out for under $90, tax and tip included. They have a strong commitment to local foods; the green beans we ate were so good, we ordered an extra plate of them (my mother should hear such a thing of me).
All that being said, the real highlight of this impromptu visit was our happy hour at the
Gold Room. I've never enjoyed a can or six of supercritical liquid-cold beer quite so much, quite anywhere, as we did sitting at the front table of the Gold Room, playing classics of the 70s and 80s on the juke box, and making some new momentary drinking pals while the sun set over the 19th century brick buildings across Main Street, and Chad, Trixie and their beautiful, 99th percentile children marched past from one expenditure to the next, some eyeballing us through the picture window like a school of goldfish or a human ant farm at Miller Time.
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