Bluebird

Tapioca always makes me teary...

My mother just despised it. Dad said it was because they used to call it fish eyes and she couldn't get past the thought of that. But we loved it, him and I. Bonded by a love for a lumpy pudding/custard mash-up, never mattering if homemade or from the light blue Jell-O box, it was something only he and I appreciated. There were other hidden food covens in our family of nine. Some chewed glass in secret, sucking rock candy or swallowing chocolate from our auntie who worked at a local candy shop. Others chose the popcorn/kool-aid diet, typical of Sunday nights accompanied by the Wonderful World of Disney. It was the 70s. I greedily ate cake, and pie, and poundcake after sucking the bone marrow from the leavings of my parent's kitchen date night-- sirloin steak with the bone-in on Saturday nights. As I grew older my younger brothers and I were included, after which we watched Mary Tyler Moore, Bob Newhart and the Love Boat. Dad also loved lamb chops, which were admittedly too gamey, if not too sophisticated and spendy for my thrifty Polish/German mix of a mother. He made excellent fried chicken, pancakes locally famous, and the most amazing eggnog I dearly loved  until it was banished due to acute raw egg paranoia. I still mourn that lost recipe he magically whipped up almost every December.

But our love for tapioca lives on--because it was just between us two.

Pearly Whites

A classic treat with a fruity twist

Serve this tapioca pudding warm or chilled.

Just because it’s January, that doesn’t mean we’re giving up dessert. That said, we are cutting back slightly on the saccharine. Enter this creamy, large-pearl tapioca pudding, naturally sweetened by swirls of puréed fresh mango and topped with a cowlick of toasted coconut. The finished pudding (delicious warm or chilled) loiters on the cusp of sweet, making it a good recipe for both breakfast and dessert.

Mango-Coconut Tapioca Pudding

Recipe from the Tasting Table Test Kitchen

Yield: 4 servings

Cook Time: 20 minutes (plus overnight refrigeration)

• INGREDIENTS

1½ cups unsweetenedlarge flaked coconut

2½ cups whole milk

½ cup large-pearl tapioca

1 ripe mango

2½ tablespoons granulated sugar, plus more to taste

¼ teaspoon vanilla extract

1/8 teaspoon coconut extract (optional)

1/8 teaspoon kosher salt

DIRECTIONS

1. Preheat the oven to 350°. Add the coconut flakes to a rimmed baking sheet and toast in the oven until the flakes are golden-brown and fragrant, about 5 minutes. Remove the pan from the oven and transfer the coconut flakes to a large plate to cool completely.

2. In a medium saucepan set over medium heat, add the whole milk. Once the milk comes to a soft boil, turn off the heat and add 1 cup of the toasted coconut flakes. Set aside to steep for 10 minutes, then pour the coconut-milk mixture into a fine-mesh sieve set over an medium bowl. Use a rubber spatula to press on the coconut flakes to extract as much liquid as possible. Discard the coconut and pour half of the coconut-infused milk into an airtight container. Add the tapioca, cover and refrigerate overnight. Refrigerate the remaining liquid in a separate airtight container.

3. Slice the bottom off of the mango, then peel it using a vegetable peeler. Stand the mango upright and slice off the two fleshy, wide lobes on either side of the pit. Carve away the easy-to-remove fruit from around the pit and chop the fruit into ¼-inch pieces. Set one-quarter of the diced mango aside and add the remaining mango to a food processor. Process the mango until totally smooth (if the mango proves difficult to purée, add up to 2 tablespoons of water to help it along).

4. Transfer the tapioca mixture to a medium saucepan and whisk in the remaining coconut-infused milk. Bring to a boil over medium heat, then add the sugar, vanilla, coconut extract (if using) and salt. Reduce the heat to low and simmer, stirring constantly, until the pudding is thick, about 10 minutes. Gently swirl in the puréed mango until the mixture looks marbled.

5. Spoon the tapioca into 4 small glasses, bowls or ramekins. Serve warm or refrigerate until the tapioca is chilled and set, at least 4 hours. Serve topped with the reserved chopped mango and the remaining ½ cup toasted coconut flakes.

 

preamble to dinner

Early Sunday morning, she found herself inexplicably awake at six am. Too early for anything, she thought as she lay there listening to the steady breathing of her husband. She thought about the day ahead, making dinner for her cousin in town from the East Coast. He was a priest. A curious career path for the 21^st century, even though she knew her cousin would say it wasn’t a career but a vocation. He would be getting ready to say mass. She tried to remember when she was last even in a church, more than a year ago.

She carried her Catholicism around with her like some people carried the latest handbag—possessively although not ostentatiously. Although she had other identifying tribal affiliations like being an English/Polish pseudo-aristocratic bourgeois with a lineage that stretched back to the 1400’s, a prep-schooler with a naïve pretension of nihilistic intellectualism (probably a result of too much theatre as a child, combined with her older pseudo-intellectual siblings being a main influence,) and, today, a forty-something fashion snob with a decided bent for all things Belgian—she mostly thought of herself as a re-lapsed, Vatican-hating, feministic, veil-loving Catolica who felt perpetually sheepish (read guiltified) about the way she ultimately lost that long ago virginity (both physical and spiritual). Shallow and proud of it, she bragged about how Catholicism meant the most to her when all the females in her family got new hats for Easter Sunday mass. And she was nostalgic for the veils, those lace dribbles pinned to every female’s head in the sixties, even if she was too young to remember wearing one. (If truth be told, she never wore one, since they were worn by adult women and she was stuck in hats, being so young, not that hats were bad.) It was only when she fully grew up did she realize that the church thought the female head unclean, hence the headwear. Then there were the nuns. Modern vestal virgins, they could never hope to rise to the status of priests. Sexist for sure, but only after it had all been pointed out as such. When something is as familiar as that, you don’t necessarily question it or resent it. It was rote role-playing more than anything else. Like genuflecting before getting into the pew.

It was a quandary—this mix of repulsion/obsession. She truly believed that Vatican II killed organized religion as she never knew it, what with its gradual relaxation of standards that eventually resulted in the horror of bland guitar masses and made-up face-to-face confessions. And even if she could’ve been an altar girl, unlike her older sisters, she had no interest. She pined for the mix of exoticism and mystery and (perhaps most of all) the sense of ritual, (after all, she had minored in Anthropology) that seemed to add authenticity. No matter that she couldn’t remember the Latin mass when last practiced, she hated that most of all. It seemed a sign of being not only a lapsed Catholic, but belonging to a lapsed religion. She felt the whole religious revision had deprived her of experiencing the genuine, historical ritual, when going to mass was an event, dramatic pageantry—hence supportive of her revulsion/fascination. She was, after all, nothing if not melodramatic in her analyzing, rationalizing, conclusion-izing.

Being Catholic somewhat redeemed itself with its perpetual identifying factor/curse. She knew who she was—always. This possessive trait of her religion stamped her, tainted her throughout her day, affecting everything from turning the right cheek to crossing her legs properly like a lady in a pew. Then there were all the sacraments of her childhood, a way to get money from relatives and also a nice party with a cake.  She, unfortunately, had never been confirmed but that never kept her from being a Catholic.  It wasn’t her fault, anyway. They kept pushing the confirmation age further up in grade school. Her older siblings had all been confirmed (with parties and gifts) by sixth grade. Thanks to the new, modern take on things, everything changed in the seventies and confirmation was moved to the eighth grade. When she arrived at that final chapter of Catholic schoolgirlness, it was moved to the high school level. Well, she was not about to attend special classes on Saturdays simply to be confirmed, even if it did mean a cake (and she so loved cake). And she was most certainly not going to attend St. Ann’s girl’s high school for the convenience of confirmation. Rife with rumors of girl-on-girl action, she much preferred boys. But if they wanted her to publicly state her baptismal intent, they could have made the whole thing easier, like keeping it back in the sixth grade as it had been for all her siblings. Easy peasy. So she became a sort of in-between. No one seemed to mind it either, even when she was married in her family’s church. Unconfirmed but still not a heathen. It wasn’t like the Mormons where they excised the soul or some such trashy bible nonsense. (She only knew this sketchy information from visiting other parishes in eighth grade with the then-considered-liberal Sister Agnes Mary. Sister Agnes believed in opening up her student’s eyes (but she kept close tabs on their souls) and minds to the whole wide world of religion beyond the doors of St. Stephen’s grade school. Along with the Mormons, they’d visited Armenian, Episcopalian and Baptist churches, as well as a temple. Heresy before 1976—most assuredly.

The problem was, she still believed that the whole possessive/identifying thing enslaved her. She used to say (jokingly) how she was Catholic whether she wanted to be or not. It was like she had no say or choice in the identity that burdened/gladdened her through the years. A smallish weight to carry through life compared to being Jewish. But being Jewish seemed so much more than mere religion. It was a much more glamorous cultural stamp, they even had their own cuisine. On the opposite side of the coin, the Episcopalians she knew had no such identifying problem. It was just one small part of their lives, not their character. Still, there were no Episcopalian foods.

Then she remembered the fish fries of her childhood. Meatless Fridays during Lent meant dinner out at a church hall, supper club or even a tavern. Why even the Episcopalians ate perch on Fridays, it was so delicious. Maybe that was her religious culture food—perch from Lake Michigan. Pan-fried with potato pancakes and a lavishing of creamy coleslaw. Suddenly feeling better about it all, she knew what she'd make for her cousin's dinner and dressed for her own ritual—her Sunday morning jog.

 

http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Beer-Battered-Haddock

http://www.food52.com/recipes/7968_golden_panko_latkes_with_sour_cream_and_chives

http://www.saveur.com/article/Wine-and-Drink/Brandy-Old-Fashioned

February 23, 2012, 7:59 AM

A Luscious Meal for Moose

By JOHN VUCETICH

John VucetichLush growth of a balsam fir tree, untouched by moose teeth.

John Vucetich, a wildlife ecologist from Michigan Technological University, leads the wolf-moose Winter Study at Isle Royale National Park.

Thursday, Feb. 9

We check the wind hourly: 31 miles per hour at 8 a.m., 36 m.p.h. at 9 a.m., 33 m.p.h. at 10 a.m., 32, 33, 34, 37, 38 m.p.h. throughout the afternoon. As we wait, we manufacture meteorological explanations for why we should expect the wind to let up. It seems like it is shifting directions, we say; the barometer seems to be stabilizing, we say. We stare at the treetops and lie to ourselves about how the wind seems to be letting up. The wind continues at 31 m.p.h. as the sun sets. No flying today.

Friday, Feb. 10

Wind gusts exceed 30 m.p.h. each daylight hour.

Saturday, Feb. 11

The wind whips at 30 m.p.h. at 8 a.m. and builds throughout the day. At 10:24 p.m., the anemometer on Ojibway Tower records a 59-mile-an-hour gust. We fall asleep with the wind pounding in a fury against the cabin walls.

Sunday, Feb. 12

On Day 5 five of the windstorm, we have been given a task on the ground. We find the tracks of two wolves on the harbor near the cabin — the same pair of wolves we’d first seen scent-marking on the beach of Siskiwit Bay. They made the tracks while leaving the moose they killed a week ago at a site about a mile north of the harbor. We can hike in, perform a necropsy on the moose carcass and collect scats for the first time from these wolves.

 

John VucetichWolves making tracks through the winter landscape.

JOHN VUCETICH

Posts From Isle Royale

• Preparing to Live With Wolves
• In Winter Weather, Flying to Find Wolves
• Wolves, Snow and the Red Dragon
• A Wolf-Moose Standoff at Isle Royale
• One Moose, Two Moose
• Following the Wolf Pack
• Much to Learn From What Remains

On our hike in, Rolf Peterson and I marvel at the balsam fir trees. Many have grown 12 to 18 inches in the past few years. The apical meristems (the root and shoot tips where vertical growth occurs) of some now reach four feet or so above the forest floor.

Moose arrived on Isle Royale about 100 years ago. And fir trees that were just seedlings at that time here on the west end of Isle Royale (the story on the east side is completely different) were the last to grow tall into the canopy. Since that time, not a single fir tree has escaped the teeth of moose. Moose are paragons of patience, when you think of the thousands of bites they take each day of their lives, and the hundreds of hours a week they spend chewing their food.

But then you think of a fir tree. Every year of their lives, they spend all summer mustering all the energy and material they can from the air and soil to produce a little twig reaching a few inches higher toward the sky. And each winter, in a moment that is absolutely insignificant to a moose, that entire summer’s effort is ripped, chewed and digested, along with thousands of other twigs. Fir trees endure, year after year. They witness the entire lifetime of a moose, and her son and his daughter. A fir tree can endure the browsing of three or four generations of moose and never grow more than a yard. But they don’t die, either. They just keep producing those twigs, waiting and hoping — hoping not in the way that you and I understand, but hoping in the only way that a fir tree can — that it can escape being browsed not for a single year, but for the 10 to 15 years it might take to come out of its stupor and grow into the forest canopy, out of reach of the teeth of moose.

John VucetichTo check for arthritis, Rolf extracts the pelvis from frozen carcass of a moose.

And that is what we saw today on our hike in to perform a necropsy: something that hasn’t happened in a century. The fir trees are rising from their moose-induced stupor. And wolves get most of the credit — they have played a dominant role in bringing moose to levels low enough for long enough.

The carcass is an old cow moose. The bone marrow was full of white, flaky fat, a little like vegetable shortening. She had been well nourished. But her worn teeth betrayed her old age, and her hips showed signs of arthritis.

We search for wolf scats with the enthusiasm of children on an Easter egg hunt. We find 11. I pick one up and wonder if its DNA has a Y chromosome, which only males carry, or the two X chromosomes that all females carry.

I think the wind storm will end tonight.

 

Life writ large in the vastness

January 24, 2012, 6:11 PM

In Winter Weather, Flying to Find Wolves

By JOHN VUCETICH

John VucetichApproaching Isle Royale in winter snow and fog.

John Vucetich, a wildlife ecologist from Michigan Technological University, leads the wolf-moose Winter Study at Isle Royale National Park.

Friday, Jan. 20

“Dispatch, Beaver 1, departing Shagawa Lake, eastbound for Washington Harbor, Isle Royale, two aboard, four hours fuel,” said Pat Lowe, a United States Forest Service pilot. We were supposed to fly to Isle Royale on Jan. 17, but for three days, low clouds, snow and then high winds kept us waiting impatiently on the shore in Ely, Minn. It was clear, calm and cold (minus 18 degrees Fahrenheit) this morning as Pat and I lifted off from Shagawa. Rolf Peterson, a co-researcher, and Don Glazer, our Winter Study pilot, were 30 minutes ahead in the Flagship, our tiny research plane. In an hour we landed on Lake Superior ice.

The island was loosely veiled by low gray clouds — a collaboration of the west wind and moist lake air. Waves lapped on ice-covered rocks that separate Lake Superior from the forest. That forest has insights to share, if we pay attention.

 

JOHN VUCETICH

Posts From Isle Royale

• Preparing to Live With Wolves

The Forest Service plane dropped our gear on the ice and took off. It’s been six months since I was last here, and it is good to be back. It is comfortable and familiar — the feeling of being alive that only minus 5 degrees Fahrenheit can bring, the feeling of openness that comes from standing on several square miles of frozen ice, and the feeling of content from being among so many spruce and cedar trees. Wilderness is not just part of the world in which we live — it is a part of us.

There is a great deal to do. Knock holes in the ice for water. Secure the Flagship to the ice. Bring a snowmobile and several generators to life. Fire up the communications systems. Make sure the refueling system is working. Start a fire in the cabin. Haul gear from the harbor up to the cabin. The chores will keep us busy all night and into the morning. We can’t begin to make observations until we’ve prepared at least some of the essential gear.

John VucetichUnloading supplies on the ice of Washington Harbor at Isle Royale.

Saturday, Jan. 21

We worked diligently because the weather was deteriorating, and we wanted to get a flight in before the snow clouds we could see building began to unload their contents. By noon we were ready to fly.

Where do you begin when you don’t know what you may find, when you know you won’t have much time and when you need to keep an eye on the weather? We began with the south shore, where wolves spend a great deal of time looking for moose. In the flat light filtering through thick clouds, we strained to spot wolf tracks. Finally we saw the tracks of a lone wolf at Long Point. Several miles to the northeast, they hooked up with tracks of what seemed to be three wolves that had spent the night on a rocky crag near Atwood beach. They didn’t look particularly fresh, so we left seeking better prospects. At Senter point we found more tracks, most likely from the same group of wolves.

We flew northeast, listening through headsets for telemetry signals from the radio-collared wolves and staring out the cockpit window for wolf tracks that might cut across any creek, drainage or inland lake. An hour passed without another clue. Plenty of time to wonder: Are three wolves all that remain here in what had been Middle Pack (MP) territory? If they are MP wolves, none of them is collared. It could take days to find them.

Then comes a beep, and another and another. Within a few minutes we were circling over the alpha male of Chippewa Harbor Pack (CHP). He is traveling southwest through a swamp near Lane Cove with four other wolves.

John VucetichWolves of Chippewa Harbor Pack following their alpha male.

Last year CHP had nine wolves. One of them, Romeo, was not among them today. He’d tried to disperse from his natal pack during the winter of 2010, but returned home without success and spend the winter of 2011 with CHP. Had he now taken control of territory that once belonged to Middle Pack? Or was he just temporarily away from CHP? Even though Romeo wears a radio collar, we were unable to find him before having to land as falling snow began to blanket the forests.

Sunday, Jan. 23

Big, wet, heavy snowflakes let us sleep in. We won’t be able to fly again until the snow clears.

 

Oh, to be in Dearborn...

Dearborn, MI: Miller's Bar Serves a Great No-Frills Burger

Posted by J. Kenji López-Alt, November 28, 2011 at 2:30 PM

[Photographs: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt]

Miller's Bar

23700 Michigan Avenue, Dearborn MI 48124 (map); 313-565-2577
Cooking Method: Griddled
Short Order: An iconic American burger. Big, beefy, well seasoned
Want Fries with That? Yes, you do. Crisp and potato-y. Onion rings are also great.
Prices: Burgers and sandwiches around $5
Notes: They've got a couple other sandwiches on the menu, but stick with the burger

You wouldn't expect to find a great burger on a 6-lane strip of commercial property sporting mostly strip clubs and Lebanese restaurants, but it's there. It's pretty easy to miss Miller's Bar, with its nearly windowless facade and was-once-probably-much-brighter signage, but it's worth stopping at. The interior is as old school as it gets. Glossy wood veneer booths, red leather banquettes, and no frills; You want silverware? Sorry—you can't even get a plate here.

Of course, that don't make the food any less delicious. Ordering is a simple affair. You could opt for the corned beef, but really, people come here for the 7-ounce burger. Just tell your bartender how well done you want it, and whether you'd like a slice of American or Swiss (go with the American, shaved off of a big fat deli block to order). A slab of freshly sliced raw onion comes on the side, along with a jar of pickles. You'll want to add the onions and pickles, but lay off the condiments until you've had at least your first bite. Chances are that you'll opt out of them because the meat is just that good.

Ground fresh every morning and delivered pre-pattied to the bar, the beef is definitely fattier than the 90 percent lean the bartender tells you it is. I'm never in town long enough to catch their names, but I imagine that the bartender go by Joe or Dylan, or some equally old-timey Michigander name. They're as integral to the atmosphere as the blacked out windows and wood paneling.

All the cooking is done on a single flattop griddle, where the burgers pick up a nice degree of browning, just as they've been cooked since the place opened in 1941.

In the last year, I've seen a couple troubling reports that some of the griddle cooks have taken to pressing down on the patties as they cook to speed up the process. Indeed, I even saw them doing it while my burger was on the flattop on my most recent visit. Nevertheless, the cheeseburger arrived at my stool on its little square of waxed paper—no plate—as juicy as I ever remembered it being.

Next time, though, I'll make sure to ask them to take their time with it.

Just looking at this thing of beauty makes tiny onion-scented tears of joy well up in the corners of my eyes. Have you ever seen a burger that plays its part so modestly but so well? There are certain actors who excel at playing the normal guy. The ones who make being the average Joe look so good that it makes everybody feel exceptional. This burger is one of those. It shows us how extraordinary a perfectly ordinary burger can be.

It's pretty obvious just looking at them how greasy they're gonna be. And I mean that in a good way. The steamed soft white buns have a faint slick of burger grease on their surface, and if you order your burger anything short of medium, you can expect to see some juices already beginning to saturate your bun. The cheese comes melted underneath the patty, forming a protective barrier and preventing total bun collapse.

Fries and onion rings are available, and both are worth ordering. With these side orders, you get the courtesy of a little cardboard boat to hold them in place. Ask the barman for a beer to wash them down and he'll ask you back whether you want a Miller, a Miller Light, or That One That's Not Miller. Despite the restaurant's name, you probably want to opt for the latter.

Occasionally your burger might come out a bit on the rare side of medium-rare, but with beef this tasty, it's a forgivable offense.

Yeah, I'd say it's forgiven.

About the author: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt is the Managing Editor of Serious Eats where he likes to explore the science of home cooking in his weekly column The Food Lab. You can follow him at @thefoodlab on Twitter, or at The Food Lab on Facebook.

What $75 a pound Cheese looks like...

Unbelievably delicious.

Wisco moves beyond niceness

Petition drive launched to recall Wisconsin governor

Republican Scott Walker has been a lightning rod since taking office early this year. The success of a union-friendly referendum in Ohio gives new momentum to the push to remove him from office.

Carla Koykkari, right, signs a petition with the help of Sue Breckenridge, aiming to force a recall election against Wisconsin Gov. Scott Walker. (Scott Bauer, Associated Press / November 15, 2011)

By Bob Secter, Chicago Tribune

November 16, 2011

Reporting from Madison, Wis.—

The partisan trench war that has transformed Wisconsin into a proxy for polarization nationwide opened a new front Tuesday with the formal launch of a petition drive to force a recall vote on freshman Republican Gov. Scott Walker.

The move was long expected but was given fresh impetus by the success of a recent union-friendly referendum in Ohio. It also raises the possibility that voters in this swing state will be casting a test vote on the nation's political mood just months before next year's presidential balloting.

Walker has been a lightning rod since taking office early this year. He moved quickly with the help of a Republican-dominated Legislature to curb collective bargaining rights and benefits for public employees and trim state school spending. Walker said the actions were needed to resolve a budget crisis, but critics accused him of trying to break unions and carry water for wealthy conservative ideologues.

His actions last winter sparked huge and frequent protests and prompted minority Democrats in the Senate to temporarily flee to Illinois in an ultimately futile attempt to block a vote on the labor measures. That was followed by a legal battle and contentious election fights for control of Wisconsin's high court and the Senate, where recall votes on several members left the GOP with a slimmer majority.

Walker's campaign has launched an advertising blitz against the recall, with the first 30-second spot airing during a Monday night football telecast of the undefeated Green Bay Packers' game against the Minnesota Vikings, must-see TV in Wisconsin.

"Wisconsin's best days are yet to come," Walker said in the ad. "It won't happen overnight. But we are on our way."

Recall supporters began gathering petitions at the stroke of midnight Tuesday with signing parties at dozens of bars and homes across the state. Organizers even plan to collect signatures at deer reporting stations over the weekend, as the nine-day gun hunting season begins.

It is in many ways a remarkable turn of events in a part of the Midwest long noted for personal and political comity.

"We're the nice people," said Mordecai Lee, a political scientist at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. "We don't litter on highways. We say 'excuse me' when we bump into each other. Wisconsin culture had resisted the nationalization of politics for just so long. But it's like the wall suddenly collapsed a year ago."

A Walker spokesman declined to comment on the recall effort, deferring to the Republican Party of Wisconsin. Stephan Thompson, executive director of the state GOP, released a statement Monday praising Walker for keeping a lid on taxes while balancing the budget and cutting costs for schools and local governments.

A different take came from Michael Brown, founder of United Wisconsin, the umbrella group leading recall efforts with strong support from Democrats and organized labor.

"Our way of life here in Wisconsin is under attack from corporate interests," said Brown, who owns a marketing firm in Appleton. "Walker is not hearing us, so we have to remove him."

Simply getting the question to a vote could prove daunting. To qualify the recall for a ballot, supporters must gather a minimum of 540,000 valid petition signatures in 60 days.

In California, opponents of then-Gov. Gray Davis were required to gather just shy of 900,000 valid signatures to trigger the 2003 recall that led to his replacement by Arnold Schwarzenegger. But California is more than six times the size of Wisconsin, and the petitioning period was 160 days.

Wisco rallies

Wisconsin Gov. Scott Walker fights back as recall effort begins

 

Wisconsin Gov. Scott Walker speaks to voters in a new television ad released just before the start of an effort to recall him from office. (YouTube)

By Michael A. Memoli Washington Bureau

November 15, 2011, 10:58 a.m.

Democrats and liberal activists officially launched a campaign Tuesday to recall Wisconsin Gov. Scott Walker, an effort rooted in the Republican's successful effort to pass legislation stripping public employees of collective bargaining rights.

And wasting no time ahead of what may be a lengthy and expensive campaign, Walker is already responding with a new television ad (see video below) defending his record after less than a year in office.

The main effort to recall Walker is sponsored by a group called United Wisconsin, which filed paperwork with the state's Government Accountability Board so it can begin gathering the necessary petition signatures.

"Walker has lied to the people of Wisconsin and is destroying our state," wrote Julie Wells, an employee at a manufacturing plant in Fort Atkinson who submitted the document. "Walker has taken away the rights of workers, is destroying our education system, and is selling our state to the big corporations that put him in office."

The committee has until Jan. 17 to submit the 540,208 signatures required to spur the recall election. Elections officials would then have at least a month to review those signatures, and Walker would also have the opportunity to challenge them.

Once a petition is considered valid, an election would be called for six weeks. Democrats would have to put forward a candidate to challenge Walker in that election; if a primary is required, the general election would be held four weeks later.

Reid Magney, a spokesman for the Government Accountability Board, estimated that the elections could be held as early as May or June.

Walker, elected in 2010, introduced his anti-union law in February of this year, sparking heated protests from Democrats and labor unions. Democratic lawmakers even fled the state in hopes of preventing its passage, but the law took effect in June.

Opponents of the law first initiated recall efforts against Republican state senators who'd backed the legislation. Two of six were successfully recalled, leaving Democrats just shy of regaining a majority in the chamber.

The effort to recall Walker comes one week after Ohio voters rejected a similar law pushed by Republican Gov. John Kasich, a result seen as a victory for the labor movement.

Anticipating today's action, Walker launched a television ad that aired during Monday night's Packers-Vikings football game. It included a school board member who said the new law helped her district put money in the classroom.

"Wisconsin's best days are yet to come. It won't happen overnight. But we are on our way," Walker says in the 30-second spot.

Walker told the Associated Press on Monday that he'd launch more ads soon showing "real people" talking about his initiatives.

Wisconsin Democrats planned a series of events Tuesday to promote the "Recall Walker Kickout Kickoff."

Maryland Gov. Martin O'Malley, who chairs the Democratic Governors Assn., would not say Monday how active his group might be in the effort.

"If we have an opportunity to replace a narrow-minded, ideological and ineffective governor with a Democratic governor that gets things done, we'll be in there with both feet," he said.

Any costs for a recall election would incurred by local cities and towns. The 17 separate recall elections held in targeted state Senate districts this year cost an estimated $2.1 million.

 

Copyright © 2011, Los Angeles Times

Small slice of Packers

In Green Bay, Shares of Stock Are More Than a Financial Investment

 

Morry Gash/Associated Press

There is pride in ownership among Packers stock holders, who tailgate before their annual meeting. "They don't do that at I.B.M.," a team executive said.

By KEN BELSON

Published: November 15, 2011

GREEN BAY, Wis. — In any other place, they would be called souvenirs, documents suitable for framing, or even a sham. But here in the heart of Packers country, they are stock certificates that confer to the owner a microscopically thin and perhaps meaningless slice of the hometown team.

Enlarge This Image

Mike Roemer for The New York Times

Richard Oliver has his stock certificate displayed in his home. “The only people buying them now are the people that want to be boastful," he said.

The Green Bay Packers are the only publicly owned team in the N.F.L., the rarest of rarities in a sport dominated by billionaires and the nation’s largest corporations. The team’s fans are fiercely proud of this status, which dates to 1923 when Curly Lambeau and four local businessmen incorporated and sold 1,000 shares of the team at $5 each to keep it afloat.

It is that pride that is about to be appealed to yet again. According to a filing with securities regulators in Utah, the Packers planned to issue new shares “on or around” Tuesday for about $250 each. The team hopes to raise at least $22 million after fees, about what was generated in 1997, the last time it employed the tactic.

The money raised this time will help offset some of the $143 million needed to add up to 7,000 seats and replace the scoreboard and sound system at Lambeau Field.

The question is, will fans who have closets full of Brett Favre jerseys and foam cheeseheads, as well as stock certificates hanging on the wall, shell out hundreds of dollars for more shares? The short answer is yes, if only because they cannot resist the chance to support their team and indoctrinate the next generation, too.

“We live and breathe the Packers,” said Chuck Olsen, the owner of Olsen’s Piggly Wiggly, which does a big business selling bratwursts to tailgaters on game days. “Everyone wants to be part of this, so I’ll buy a share for my grandson, who is now 1 year old.”

In an era when teams routinely beg, threaten and cajole their host cities into helping them build new stadiums, the Packers’ approach of asking their fans to contribute is refreshingly quaint.

Unlike the growing number of teams that require fans to pay tens of thousands of dollars for personal seat licenses before they can get season tickets, the Packers do not obligate anyone to buy their shares, which cost not much more than a nice jersey sold in the gift shop. (The Packers do charge ticket holders a one-time user fee to help pay for renovations, but the prices are relatively modest and the fees are refunded if they give up their tickets.)

The ability to tap their fans’ seemingly bottomless good will has helped the Packers avoid some of the civic showdowns that have raged in other N.F.L. cities. In neighboring Minnesota, for instance, the Vikings have been negotiating for years with lawmakers, who are split on whether to help the team build a new stadium and how much the public should contribute.

In Green Bay, the Packers issued stock not just in 1997, but also in 1935 and 1950 to bolster their sagging finances, and fans snapped up the shares even though they were little more than a gift to the team. They offer none of the privileges, or risks, of normal shares: they do not appreciate, are not traded on an exchange and produce no dividends. Owners get no discounts on tickets, although some merchandise is available only to shareholders. They can also attend the annual shareholders’ meeting, where they can vote on new board members and pepper management with questions.

With the economy flirting with recession and more than 4.75 million shares outstanding, the Packers are confident that their fans will line up by the thousands to buy shares again. The team currently has 112,264 shareholders.

The shareholders helped keep the team afloat for many years. But the championships of the 1960s and the N.F.L.’s decision to split its national television contracts evenly among all of its teams helped stabilize the Packers and keep them from leaving Green Bay, the smallest city in the league.

Unlike teams in New York, Chicago and other big cities, the Packers have fewer well-heeled fans and companies that will spend money on naming rights deals, multimillion-dollar sponsorships and corporate suites. In 2000, just three years after the Packers won the Super Bowl, the team was the 23rd most valuable franchise in the N.F.L., according to Forbes magazine.

So the team used all the proceeds from its 1997 share sale and the revenue from a half-penny local sales tax increase in Brown County to pay for the expansion of Lambeau Field in 2003. With more seats, restaurants and a new team Hall of Fame, the Packers’ revenue and profits grew.

This year, after winning the Super Bowl again, the Packers are the ninth most valuable franchise in the league, worth $1.089 billion, according to Forbes.

With the wind at their backs, the Packers do not have to ask taxpayers for help this time. In addition to the share sale, the team expects to tap a capital improvement fund dedicated to upgrading the stadium, user fees from the newly added seats and loans from local banks and potentially the N.F.L.

“The Packers have gone to the public in the past when we were in trouble,” said Jason Wied, vice president and general counsel of the team, who oversees stadium development. “So to maintain our credibility, we are not going to the taxpayer. Our very survival is not at stake, and we can take on this capital project ourselves.”

This is a big relief to public officials. With consumers struggling to get by, and local governments slashing services, the last thing lawmakers want to do is debate whether to raise taxes to benefit a sports team, even one as beloved as the Packers.

“If it’s a priority, people find the money,” said Jim Schmitt, the mayor of Green Bay, who bought shares for his three daughters in 1997 and was vice chairman of the Lambeau Field Stadium Board when the county raised taxes last time. “You’re not going to see these at Target.”

In a town so devoted to one team, it is not surprising that fans like to brag about going to games, say, during the Vince Lombardi era, or rubbing shoulders with players like Bart Starr and Max McGee. There is also an informal pecking order of fans who own shares from earlier years.

In 1974, Richard Oliver acquired four shares issued in 1950 for $25 each from his wife’s aunt. The shares have since split 1,000 to one, so Oliver technically has 4,000 shares. But the original certificate hangs handsomely in his home office, where he sniffs at the notion of buying newer shares.

“The only people buying them now are the people that want to be boastful and say to their boys at the tavern, ‘I’ve got a share of Packers,’ ” Oliver said. “There’s a certain amount of pride having the certificate.”

For Oliver, who ran a title business for many years, his shares were a calling card. When he spoke at out-of-town conferences, he never failed to meet other Packers fans. He loved to attend annual meetings, which years ago were held in a room below a bowling alley across from the courthouse. Oliver recalls meeting players from the 1960s teams and legends like Tony Canadeo and Buckets Goldenberg.

“It was a good old boys club,” he said. “We knew if we ever lost the Packers, it would be the death knell of the city of Green Bay.”

Annual meetings these days draw about 12,000 shareholders and guests at Lambeau Field at the end of July, and many of them tailgate beforehand. “They’re not doing that at I.B.M.,” Wied said, joking. Some wear foam cheeseheads, including one fan who writes the word “owner” on the side of his.

Unlike a meeting at I.B.M., the annual Packers meeting elicits few questions about the team’s balance sheet. Instead, most concern the team and, this year, the league’s newly signed collective bargaining agreement. Some fans suggest ways to improve the stadium. Shareholders vote on a slate of about 15 board members, who are almost always elected with 99 percent of the vote.

All in all, it is a pretty tame affair, which is not unexpected for a team that has 92,000 names on its waiting list for tickets, or fans rabid enough to buy a piece of paper that calls them an owner. Perhaps, though, if fans hang on to their shares long enough, they will be able to resell them for a handsome profit.

Mike Worachek, who runs a collectibles shop not far from Lambeau Field, said a share issued in 1950 could fetch as much as $2,000, while one from 1935 could bring in five times that amount. Their price will only rise when the new shares are issued, he said.

Still, fans are so smitten with their shares that few change hands, Worachek said. And even fans who have shares are likely to buy new ones as well.

“There are a lot out there already, but Packers fans are funny,” he said.

Onward Ohio

Ohio voters look set to dump Republicans' anti-union law

The balloting will be closely watched in a state that could be pivotal in the 2012 presidential election.

Opponents of Republicans’ anti-union measure rally Thursday in Independence, Ohio. (Tony Dejak, AP / November 3, 2011)

By Paul West, Washington Bureau

November 5, 2011, 9:01 p.m.

Reporting from Hanoverton, Ohio—

An aggressive Republican drive to weaken the labor rights of government workers appears to have crested, at least in Ohio, where voters are expected to throw out a far-reaching anti-union law this week.

The referendum over collective bargaining for public employees, potentially the most important contest in off-year elections around the nation, is being closely watched for clues about shifting voter trends in a state expected to play its usual outsized role in next year's presidential contest.

Barely seven months ago, newly elected Gov. John Kasich joined other Republican governors, including Wisconsin's Scott Walker, in defying angry street demonstrations to push through a measure designed to curb the power of public-employee unions.

Tuesday's vote "will reverberate in a major way across the country, because Ohio is still Ohio," said Dale Butland of Innovation Ohio, a liberal think tank with ties to organized labor. "We are one of the linchpins of any presidential election."

Kasich, the focus of both sides in the referendum fight, touts his blue-collar roots as the son of a postman. But he warns that a victory by organized labor would undercut his efforts to hold the line on government spending and rebuild the state's economy.

"Look, I understand that people are nervous about this in the public sector," he told a northeastern Ohio rally in support of the anti-union law he signed in March. But, he added, "if we want to continue on this path of pulling Ohio out of this ditch, the state of Ohio has to be responsible."

The arguments by Kasich, whose popularity has fallen sharply since his election a year ago, appear to have swayed few voters. Public and private polling indicates that Ohioans, by a substantial margin, want to overturn the new law.

Strategists on both sides say conservative legislators and the new governor, emboldened by a Republican election sweep, overreached when they added curbs on collective bargaining to a measure requiring government workers to pay a larger share of their pension and healthcare costs.

Repeal would represent a sorely needed victory for organized labor and its Democratic allies. A related effort fell short last summer in Wisconsin, where Democrats outraged by anti-union efforts tried to change the balance of power by forcing Republican lawmakers into recall elections.

The Ohio referendum, placed on the ballot by organized labor in a petition drive that drew more than a million signatures, is focused on the law itself. Under the statute, government officials can effectively impose contract terms on public employees when they can't come to terms over wages, the only issue subject to bargaining under the GOP overhaul.

But unlike Wisconsin, where Republicans exempted first responders from a new law stripping public employees of most collective bargaining rights, Ohio's law applies to all government workers, including police and firefighters.

That is creating unusual alliances, with law-enforcement groups like the Fraternal Order of Police, which often endorse Republican candidates, siding with Democrats in the repeal push.

For months, an expensive TV ad campaign by the union-led coalition We Are Ohio has featured blaring sirens and on-camera testimonials by first responders warning that public safety would be at risk because the law would bar unions from negotiating for adequate staffing levels.

Rallies in support of labor's push-back have attracted some of the white working-class voters who had abandoned the Democratic Party over the years, said Chris Redfern, chairman of the Ohio Democratic Party. Next year, when Ohio will be a major presidential election battleground, "they're going to remember this," he said.

President Obama's reelection campaign is "strongly supporting" the ballot drive, Redfern said, helping recruit 12,000 volunteers, assisting with voter turnout and enabling Democrats to refurbish their organization far ahead of 2012.

But strategists in both parties caution against reading too much into the referendum results. Given the economy, even Democrats say Obama could easily lose Ohio, despite carrying it last time.

Republican pollster Neil Newhouse, who is advising the business-financed effort to retain the labor law, called it "wishful thinking" for Democrats to project the outcome onto a high-turnout presidential contest.

A Democratic advisor to the repeal campaign, speaking anonymously in order to discuss internal strategy, said voters oppose the new law out of a sense of fairness: They believe workers should be able to bargain with their bosses. In their pitch to Ohio voters, the pro-labor campaign took on the issue of restraining the power of government workers by making it about values — "the notion that we don't turn our backs on the people who watch ours" — the advisor said.

Supporters of the law argued that government workers had received excessive healthcare and pension benefits at taxpayer expense, and ran ads declaring that "enough is enough."

But the closing arguments by both sides converged on a common theme — jobs — rather than labor rights. In that sense, the Ohio campaign is a preview of next year's election, which is expected to turn on a judgment by voters about which presidential candidate is better able to restore prosperity.

The labor coalition's ads attacked the unpopular governor and the job losses it said would result from his policies.

Kasich, in a commercial filmed at a dining table, said his administration was working to keep young Ohioans from leaving the state to find work and that government workers must make reasonable sacrifices to keep Ohio from losing ground.

Last Tuesday, he ventured into the old canal town of Hanoverton for an outdoor rally that generated the biggest clash of the campaign.

Standing outside the 19th century Spread Eagle Tavern, its red-brick facade glowing in the golden late-afternoon light, the gruff-talking governor confronted about 20 demonstrators. They shouted "tea bagger," and "traitor" when he mentioned his working-class upbringing.

Fighting to be heard over the hecklers, Kasich boasted that, as a result of his economic development efforts, "we're beginning to win."

"But," yelled a man at the rear of the throng, "you'll lose on Tuesday!"