Ten Days of Gluttonous Midwestern Angling

Heading to Missouri and then on to Michigan, I had visions of fat-bellied spotted, largemouth and smallmouth bass dancing in my brain. All of those dreams came to fruition, but along the way I got a little too much into the spirit of gluttony myself. I didn’t end up with a hook in my jaw, but as I returned home my already grown work-from-home stomach demanded that I add another hole to my belt.

It started in Missouri, at the home of our good friends Chad and Debbie Morgenthaler, who hosted us from Thursday through Sunday. In addition to being one of the best grass flippers on any tour, Chad is also an exceptional griller. Because I know that he likes to do that, I asked him to get our group the best steaks he could find and I would reimburse him for his efforts. He did not disappoint, with two massive Tomahawks that would’ve made Fred Flintstone blush. He reverse-seared them and our group of eight did not leave one molecule of beef behind. Not even the John Candy-approved gristle. 

On Friday night, we ordered in pizza, a food that I dearly love but which I don’t think Hanna or I had enjoyed in well over a year. This time, we enjoyed it a little bit too much. Because we don’t regularly eat such carb-heavy or dairy-heavy foods at home (Hanna basically does not eat them at all), it didn’t sit well with me, but I soldiered on. That was important, because we had another food-achiever event on the horizon. On Saturday night guide, master cook and former homicide detective made us elk ravioli and elk served like “Steak Diane” with the meat making a small dent in the 400 pounds he harvested on a Texas hunt with Denny Brauer last fall. More on that in an upcoming blog, but here’s a teaser. 

On Sunday, Hanna flew home, but I had more “work” to do, so I hopped on an early morning United flight out of Springfield, transited through Chicago O’Hare, and found myself at the “Cherry Capital Airport” in Traverse City, Michigan. I technically did not need to be there until Tuesday evening, but it seemed foolish to take two flights home from Springfield, then two more on Tuesday to get to Michigan. Instead, I could grab a hotel room and get in two full days of work on Monday and Tuesday.  

Traverse City proved to be a really nice town, and I had a few hours of daylight to explore so I headed to the downtown Front Street strip, which is a foodie’s delight. I consulted Google and considered several options before settling on Sparks BBQ. While I wasn’t sure if I could eat a full platter of sweat-inducing meat, I was pretty certain I could down their “Famous BBQ Sundae” – Brisket, pulled pork or pulled chicken, with BBQ Sauce, layered twice in a pint glass and “topped with a stick of our famous beef jerky.” 

Fortunately, for once I did not allow my gluttonous nature to get ahead of my occasional good sense. I realized that I was still full from all that we’d eaten over the past few days (plus a sandwich at the United Club in Chicago), so I decided to get a cup of microwave soup from Wal-Mart instead. I ate it at the hotel room desk and went to bed.

Waking up on Monday, the hotel had a breakfast buffet, so I ate some Frosted Mini Wheats (we rarely have cereal in the house, either) and got to work. At lunchtime I drove about a mile to the Traverse Bay Café and had a grilled chicken salad with goat cheese and fresh blueberries (yes, I know, it’s the CHERRY capital, and some of you may not like fruit in your salads, but I was working to keep my system flowing and I was probably still full from Thursday’s steak four days later). 

That night some of the rest of my group arrived and I got a ride to my next hotel, about 90 minutes north. But first we headed back to downtown Traverse City for dinner at Mode’s Bum Steer, a restaurant recommended by Mark Zona. With wood-paneled walls, Naugahyde seats and other similar non-updated touch, the place looked like a combination of a bar from Goodfellas, my parents’ basement circa 1975 and an expensive kitschy antiques store. The food did not disappoint. Most of our group got fried lake perch, but I got a 12 ounce ribeye, which came with a classic wedge salad, a baked potato and Texas Toast. Our host Mark Copley also added copious amounts of appetizers, which in and of themselves would’ve been more than enough for our group of five. He also got cherry cheesecake (“when in Michigan”) and a molten chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream for the table. Then we rolled northward and I collapsed into bed in a true food coma.

I started Tuesday’s remote work day with a big cup of coffee and a healthy case of gas.

For lunch on Tuesday I got the comparatively healthy Greek Salad with grilled chicken, but when the rest of the group rolled in that night shit got real. The ensemble included pro anglers Kevin VanDam, Mark Zona, Keith Combs, Bill Lowen and Cole Floyd, none of them slouches in the dining department, along with a handful of my fellow outdoor writers – and as anyone who has been around a sports press room knows, part of the qualification for that gig is an inability to turn down free stuff, including food.

We walked/rolled across the street from our hotel to a restaurant called Michael’s and proceeded to put our feed bags to use. Copley once again outdid himself by ordering multiple plates of chicken wings, shrimp cocktails and other appetizers, plus side dishes including truffle fries, mac & cheese, brussels sprouts, and mashed potatoes. I got my favorite ribeye, spiced up by a probably-unnecessary-but-much-enjoyed blue cheese crust. I ate every damn last bite. There may have been beers. And desserts.

After a day of fishing and content-gathering on Wednesday, the original plan was to head to an Italian restaurant down the street, but we’d had such a good experience at Michael’s that we unanimously made the executive decision to go back there. Besides, it was a slightly shorter walk-slash-roll-slash-waddle to get home. I really wanted that blue cheese crusted steak again, but felt the need to try something different. Knowing that Copley would likely go a bit crazy on the apps (he actually ordered twice as many as he had on Tuesday, which was already too many), I went with the 6 ounce slow-cooked short ribs, with mashed taters (full disclosure: I left the mashed mostly untouched), carrots and a balsamic glaze. I skipped desserts, but feeling like an underachiever I may have had a few more beers as we swapped fish stories around the fire pit after the fact).

Most of the crew left after fishing on Thursday, but a handful of us remained – including one pro holdout, Bill “Turtle” Lowen – and Copley dragged us kicking and screaming to Breakers in the town of Topinabee. I was fully prepared to go light, but I felt like I would’ve been letting the team down. He once again went a little bit overboard on the appetizers, including wings, calamari, cheese curds and spinach/artichoke dip, and then I got a turkey and artichoke panini. Several of the others, including Lowen, got the perch. I can’t believe I made it through the entire trip without downing any walleye or perch. 

And then it was back to reality.

Or was it? 

Our flights home were staggered on Friday and I was in the later set, so after dropping the first group off at the Traverse City airport, he took the stragglers to Apache Trout Grill, reportedly one of KVD’s favorite TVC hangouts. It’s a beautiful wood-paneled restaurant with vintage fishy touches, and while I was tempted to correct past wrongs and go with the walleye (as Copley did), I ended up with a cup of the non-native lobster bisque, followed by a chicken and candied pecan salad (which included Mandarin oranges and cherries). When Hanna asked what I’d had, I told her “A salad.” When she pressed further and I revealed its contents, she gave me the comment I knew was forthcoming: “You know, that’s not, like, good for you in any way.”

Yes, I know. None of it was. But it all seemed like such a good idea at the time. I regret none of the indulgences.

Now we’re less than a month away from our return to Panama, which I’m sure will be physically demanding. My primary goal is not to drop dead of a heart attack before then (the trip is non-refundable). After that, I’ve gotta get in shape so I don’t tap out halfway through the first fish or the first day.

I know I need to get in better shape. I know I need to eat less and eat better. It’s something I need to tackle in the near-term, and will need to be even more careful about down the road when we’re away from home even more often. But while it lasted, it was glorious.

My arteries, who gave a lot for this blog entry, thank you for reading.