Between the towns of Spring Green and Reedsburg, WI is the village of Plain. Plain as in no ornamentation, nothing fancy. This is a short weekend trip to meet good friends who like us own Airstreams and love to camp.
Fran and I had just returned from our Georgia trip and a couple thousand miles of driving without our little utility trailer tagging behind. For this trip we decided it would be good to have it filled with fire wood so we loaded it up, hitched it behind Chummy and took of. The drive was a little over 3 hours taking in the scenery and making a wrong turn to the camp ground. We arrived last with our friends already set up. I pulled up to a site next to them and started to back in. All four of them were yelling and I thought this a really nice reception until I noticed Mark waving his arms wildly and pointing to the rear of Chummy. The utility trailer. We forgot to take it off and now it was wedged into the corner of Chummy. The new dent will have to be given a name since it is too deep to fix. With the trailer properly wheeled off to the side we settled into our site and ready for the weekend.
The big event was a Friday fish fry served at the Plain Roman Catholic Church. For the uninitiated a fish fry is Cod heavily battered and deep fried, served with potato pancakes, coleslaw and a slice of bread. The bread is placed over the fish to soak up some of the grease and the remainder is mixed with the cole slaw. There are variations but this is the proper fish fry. We were told the Plain Church served a proper fish fry. The Plain Church was anything but Plain. Miles away you can spot the Mediaeval steeple pointing its way towards heaven. Marble steps lead the way to a cavernous entry which spills into the sanctuary through gold plated doors. Every saint, major and minor, appears to be represented along with the important Biblical stories inscribed, or painted along the walls. There is enough ornamentation, decoration, and art to entertain any congregant during a boring homily. The big event was being served downstairs so we took an elevator down one floor. Beneath the sanctuary is a hall designed to seat several thousand which was three fourths full when we arrived. This was not like the famous Café in the Crypt found across from Trafalgar Square, London at St. Martins of the Fields were one can enjoy a meal before a concert. This crypt was a brightly lit outfitted with long tables and bustling people. Our money was taken at the rear table and soon we were being bustled to a table. The six of us shared this table with others who soon became friends as well. No sooner had we sat down when the food began arriving. Platters of pancakes, cole slaw, bread, and the fried fish. They also served a delicious potato salad, jugs of coffee, juice and milk. As soon as a platter was empty it was replaced with another. We ate, passed platters and ate some more until platters of cakes and cookies appeared which we quickly emptied. The food was delicious, fresh and had a hint of being homemade. All of this platter passing and eating lasted about forty five minutes and we were bustled out the exit. I glanced back at our table when we at the exit door and saw it was already occupied with a new set of eaters and platter passers.
This weekly event is put on as a fund raiser for the church and staffed by volunteers. I learned that the cakes and cookies were indeed homemade and contributed by members of the congregation. The population of this little town of 800 folks is easily tripled on Friday Fish Fry night. We were grateful for the long walk through the parking lot before the ride back to the campground.
