A master chef shuns a life of 'fusion'
RHINELANDER, Wis. - It was 40 years ago that Jerry Warner made a prediction that has stuck with me.
I met Warner while on a stretch of the Wisconsin River. He said that he watched me flay the water "like a Mixmaster gone wild."
Jerry offered to show me how to fish the slack-water pools and "read" current areas for potential fishy spots.
Warner was a couple years older than me, but his woods and waters senses were more acute.
His kitchen prowess was amazing. Even though he made his living as an architect, some of the more famous restaurants in Chicago came knocking on his door trying to lure him back into the world of haute cuisine.
He would have none of that since he worked out of his home and treasured his outdoors passions.
Jerry predicted that some day in the future there could very well be a revolution as to how business and commerce, along with print and broadcast journalism, would be presented to the public.
Forty years ago, we didn't have the electronic tools that allowed us to send newspaper columns, pictures and documents through space at the speed of ancient Greek gods.
Once Jerry finished an assignment, he shoved his drawings into a cardboard tube and shipped it off to a client.
Originally hailing from Chicago's Northwest side, Warner took to the Wisconsin North Country like a native son. It was in his two-bedroom log home that he began to teach himself how to master various styles of cooking. He put the same effort in conquering the Wisconsin River and learning where the big smallmouth bass would hang out during the summer months.
And like me, Jerry had strong opinions about today's lifestyles and restaurant cooking.
"You know I like good jazz music, Jackson, and good food as well," he declared. "But I don't understand the trend whereby restaurant patrons will pay the big bucks and get 2 ounces of food laid out on a fancy plate. They (the restaurateurs and food critics) call it "fusion dining."
I liked where this was going.
"You can drive from Milwaukee all the way up to Eagle River and walk into any supper club and have some of the greatest meals of your life," he added.
I agreed.
Wisconsin folks like to call their restaurants supper clubs, even if these joints are situated around the traditional bar.
Warner went on:
"On any given day, I'll spend several hours either wading a stretch of the river or in my boat catching smallies, come back here, clean up and then head out to some area supper club to see what they've invented. I've never been disappointed. I've had waitresses drop a steak on my table the size of a 1957 Buick's front door.
"And then a year ago, I drive down to Chicago for a meeting in a fancy, schmancy restaurant. The guy I'm with says I have to try the house specialty. So I did as instructed. A half-hour later the waiter returns with our order. It was a lamb chop covered in cilantro. The chop was about the same size as one of my credit cards. I laughed so hard I spilled a glass of water over the plate. The bill for two meals of minuscule protein came to $83.00."
And to make matters even worse for Jerry, he told me the menu included another special labeled as "fresh, walleyed pike."
"Back home in my little corner of the world, even a backwoods hermit would know better to call a walleye a pike," he said angrily. "It's a member of the perch family, Jackson, you know that."
Indeed I did.
The next day, after we reeled in our last chunky smallmouth, we sat on a sandy shoreline feasting on succulent prime rib sandwiches on home-baked bread.
"I've got some ice water in the cooler if you'd like," he said, "and I didn't even put any lemon slices in the jug like that fancy joint with the 3-inch morsels of lamb. This ain't a fusion meal pal, but rather some good old beef and the call of the wild tossed in for good measure."
Beware of those vehicle-wrecking deer
Even though I no longer hunt whitetail deer, my heart still skips a beat when I see a huge buck run across a suburban road during the dark hours.
I've been up early this past week and have made it a point to drive next to area forest preserves in Cook County.
This is the time around the Midwest for the annual "rut," or mating season. The big boys are on the prowl.
While sitting parked along a back road close to a Lake County preserve in the Wauconda area, I spotted two massive bucks with eight- and 10-point antler racks. Very impressive animals.
My advice is to use extra caution (as I urge every fall season) to be on the alert for these vehicle-wrecking deer intent on continuing the bloodline.
Fishing report
Wind, rain and sleet hasn't kept local anglers from the great action.
Fox Chain: Guide Darrell Baker reports that 2008 will be a record-breaking year for muskies caught in boat. The magic number is 60 fish, with a jumbo, 46-incher caught last week. In the meantime, the walleye action is fast and furious. Some of the bigger females are being taken from both north and southern lakes in the Chain. The crappie activity is spectacular with a 2-pound fish brought in last week.
Fox River: Smallmouth bass and walleyes are on the menu. Even at this early period of the fall season, a number of larger females have moved in close to the McHenry Dam. Smallies have been found on gravel bars near Algonquin.
Racine and Kenosha, Wis.: Improved brown trout fishing right in those two harbors. Spawn is the bait of choice as well as shiner minnows.
• Mike Jackson's radio program can be heard from 6-7 a.m. Sundays on WSBC 1240-AM.