The first thing you need to know about me is: I like cheese. I mean, I really like cheese. And I’m not talkin’ Velveeta and Kraft Singles (does anyone eat that stuff?). I have a book, in French, of the 300+ kinds of cheese in France, and yes, I intend to try them all. So it should be no surprise to you that when I visit my BFF, Rachel, in Wisconsin, cheese is always on the menu.
I’ve known Rachel for 27 years. We try to see each other every year, but it wasn’t until this year that we managed to spend time together during the winter holidays. Why? Because she lives in Wisconsin. And Wisconsin is cold. I like my sunny southern California weather. But this year, I got out of my comfort zone (about 60 degrees out of it) and made the trek east. It was cold. I don’t know how she stands it. But I was like a kid on Christmas when I woke up to this magnificent layer of snow.
“Susan wants an authentic Wisconsin experience, so let’s take her to a supper club,” the calendar invite said. My best and oldest friend, Rachel, had invited her girlfriends to show me the “real Wisconsin” on my December visit. I wondered briefly what a supper club was. Back in college in Arkansas, a supper club was a convenient workaround for the fact that we were in a dry county. You paid your “dues” of $1 and were given access to the “club.” Read: plain ole honky tonk bar.