no such thing as too many cheese curds

Make way Madison, Nancy's in town for three whole days (if you combine Thurs and Sun into one).
First things first though: selfie to make the Chapel Thrill girls jealous.  (Even though we're reuniting in two weeks).  Lucky girl came just in time for the snow and my late night Pchem exam.  So we spent most of the first hours reliving summer Caribou ventures in Cosi (with my prized Dream Big cup in hand).

Breakfast forever on Friday at Short Stack Eats.  This was after I had a slightly disappointing ham and Swiss sammy (should've just asked for the LOT - lettuce onion tomato).  I needed something sweet, dessert... pancakes!

 The place was super cute with license plate numbers, cinnamon hazelnut coffee, quotes on blackboards, great lighting and a pretty view of State Street, and the piece de resistance, handwritten postcards pressed under the glass.  I read one from a woman who used to work at SSE, I think, moved to Colorado and missed her days at the wonderful little breakfast spot in Madison.

 Nancy (who managed to fend off lunch hunger until like 3pm) got the Savory Trio of buttermilk pancakes, mixed greens, and a sexy sunny side up egg.

 While I went Sweet with the Sweet Potato Oatmeal Pancakes because there was not a single flaw in the description: Spiced oatmeal cakes made with real sweet potatoes and topped with fresh strawberries and bourban-maple mascarpone.  So much happening.  In such a good way.  Can you believe that's the short stack?  I don't even want to know what the full order looks like.  I definitely struggled with the last few bites, but in the end, I had to finish every last crumb, every drop of cream.  And damn, how long as it been since I've had fresh berries?

 Saturday morning, we walked out to Sardine by Lake Monona, around where, I also discovered, the indoor farmer's market will be held.  Though I don't know how willing I'll be to walk all the way out there in the freezing mornings of winter.  Sardine was so pretty, I got a little overexcited.  You kind of forget you're basically in a warehouse.

 I wasn't going to do it after our waiter (who looked like Tobey Maguire) said there weren't any brunch cocktail specials, but suddenly I heard the words "I'll get a bellini" come out of my mouth, and I couldn't stop them.  That's the art of an impulse order - you know you must really want it.

I rarely even look at the salad section of menus because I'm not going to pay for overpriced leaves, but my attention is like a heat-seeking missile for duck.  Warm duck confit salad with tomatoes, lardons, crispy potatoes, and a poached egg.  You got me, Sardine.  Good thing Nancy's already seen all my indelicate ways because there's no delicate way to stuff large leaves into your mouth.  I would've gone for her first love (brie, arugula, cremini, and scallion omelette) if not for the little pile of brie and honeycomb and mushroom tarts I had at the WID volunteer appreciation dinner.

I definitely did not regret the salad when I snagged a brat with sauerkraut at Nancy's friend's roommate's boy-person's tailgate.  Nothing like eating a warm brat and then washing it down with Fireball spiked hot chocolate in the unforgiving cold.  So much walking around in the cold later, we had to take a breather (and nap for Rachel) before... eating more.

The Old Fashioned is the kind of place that can make you flustered.  Third time was the charm for me getting a table.  (There was even a 1-hr wait on a Monday night...).  Except they were really determined to not take a reservation, even when we show up in person at 5pm, an hour before we wanted to eat.  We just had to have all ten people present before they could start putting together a table for us.  And so began the waiting game as friends of friends slowly filed in as the first snow stuck to the ground outside and getting downtown was a committed journey what with the biggest football game coming to an end and all the fans looking to celebrate another victory with cheese curds and alcohol.
Speaking of cheese curds, Miss Nancy really embraced the WI lifestyle, nomming on cheese curds every night she was here.  We're tied for cheese curd consumption, and I've been here three solid months.  You see, I was waiting to experience my first cheese curds at Old Fashioned, for that is where I kept hearing they are the best.  There might be a logical flaw in starting at the top (see Tipsy Cow), but I guess I feel more guilty consuming batches of fried fat dipped in fat than I do greasy protein between carbs.  And they were really the best (compared to Tornado Steakhouse and Culver's anyways).  Bianca described them as "melt in your mouth," and I really couldn't imagine what that meant for fried food until I ate one myself.  It was such a heavenly bite, especially dunked in garlic aioli.

The menu was extensive, and the dishes were numbered, not titled, so I kind of gave up trying to read through it all the minute I saw No. 30 The Old Fashioned House Burger.  Yup.  That.  I want exactly that.

This was a fantastic burger in a different way than the Tipsy.  It was also juicy and messy and finger-licking good.  With the exception of another sexy sunny side up egg, the burgers were basically on an even playing field (onions, bacon, sauce), but I couldn't decide which I liked better because the patties were so different.  This one was thicker, not smashed, tender (but oddly chewier when I ate it on its own...but I won't hold that against it because it was probably getting colder).  I liked that the bun held up nicely, and in the end, I had to strip it away to force feed myself the beef and bacon.  When faced with a choice of what to finish, I was always taught to go with the meat.  Would've gone down nicely with some hot sauce.  The only negative was that the salad was overdressed.

Sunday brunch at Merchant for Nancy's sendoff.  We both got the Eggs Benedict with ham and spinach (and a better side salad) (and without forgetting the hot sauce).  Nancy even broke her vegetarianism (although it should be noted that her diet restriction is "vegetarian... and bacon") for the ham because all of it was so perfect together.  The eggs were perfectly poached, the yolk basically melting into the Hollandaise.  Though I could've done with a little higher carb to other stuff ratio, but that's my fault for not planning things out more carefully.

Nance always brings out the little cultured part of me.  Without her, I'd rarely think to go to an art museum.  We spent her last hours ooh-ing in the Capitol, ahh-ing at all the things in Fromagination, feeling whimsical in the Story Book exhibit at the Overture, then feeling lonely while walking through Alec Soth's America.

We explored the deserted rooftop restaurant of the museum, where there was a twisted slide vortex-y green bench covered in snow, which begs the question, can we sit on the art?