Will there someday be a "bike-in" restaurant just around the bend?

This is the Southwest Bike Path between Glenway and Commonwealth. Just a little way beyond the bend, between the path and Glenway Golf Course, Madison restaurateur Chris Berge would like to build an environmentally-friendly bike path restaurant that's inaccessible by car, according to the Wisconsin State Journal.

Chris Berge, co-owner of Restaurant Magnus, the Weary Traveler and Natt Spil and cofounder of Barriques and the Blue Marlin, plans to build a bike-path-bound cafe on the city's Near West Side that would be inaccessible by car, serve local food, produce zero garbage and cater to the city's burgeoning bicycle population.

Described as "a hobbit hole meets the American Players Theatre meets a 1950s National Park recreational area," the "Badger Den" would be a "bike-in" bar and grill open from April through October.

It sounds like a great idea, but I wonder if it will fly. Is there enough traffic? Despite the rustic sylvan look of the path in summer, Monroe Street with its restaurants and the Laurel Tavern are just a couple blocks away via bike-friendly side streets, and the Village Bar is just up Glenway at the other end of the golf course. Would neighbors take a nimby approach, worried about increased bike traffic? Will other objections surface? This is Madison, after all.

The Mayor, for one, does seem to be on board.

Mayor Dave Cieslewicz said the cafe would be consistent with what the city has been doing to encourage bicycling.

"I think it's fascinating idea," Cieslewicz said. "We'd love to work with him on it."

I wish Berge luck. It's a beautiful bike path, and although I more often ride along the lakes because I like the sight of water, the prospect of a tall, cool one along the path just might change my habits.

My, how time flies: Queen Elizabeth at 50

The visit of Queen Elizabeth to New York today brought back old memories. The last time she was in New York she was 50 years old and celebrating the Bicentennial. Flanked by nervous security men scanning the crowd for IRA assassins, she was walking up Wall Street to Trinity Church for the ritual collection of back rent in the amount of 279 peppercorns. And I was there with my family, taking pictures. She walked by so close that we could have reached out and touched her, as some people did.

I took this photo (view large on black) with a Nikon Ftn, Tri-X film and a 105mm f/2.5 Nikkor lens, focusing manually on a rapidly moving subject -- which accounts for the fact that the sharpest focus is on the back of her hat instead of her face. Given the legendary sharpness of the 105mm lens, that was probably a lucky accident, giving her face a pleasing softness that matched the emotions of the moment.

Security measures were unprecedented (the IRA was not happy with the Royals, and three years later, they blew up Lord Louis Mountbatten in his fishing boat off the coast of Ireland). Decoy launches disguised the movement of her boat to shore from the royal yacht. The parade route in lower Manhattan was not publicly announced. That's why I got such a great position in line. I had stumbled on the route of the procession as the crowd was gathering, while I was on business downtown. I called T and told her to get on the subway with M and I would save a place. They joined me well before the Queen arrived.

It was an extraordinary moment. Here's how I recalled it a few years ago.

I have never been much of a fan of the British royal family, but when Elizabeth and her entourage -- Prince Philip not alongside her, but several steps behind, as protocol dictates -- passed within ten feet of where we stood I was simply stunned. Diana Spencer had not yet entered her life, and the fairy tale turned nightmare that was to be the story of their relationship still lay in the future. She was radiant. The word "regal" didn't begin to do her justice.

There was an aura about her, and her face seemed to glow with its own pearly light. Partly, it was a trick of makeup, the hazy light of a New York morning, and the euphoria of the Bicentennial in our biggest city. Mostly, though, the aura came from within, illuminated by 1,000 years of British history. Briefly, I was seized by the desire to fall to my knees and pledge eternal fealty. The divine right of kings started to make sense, and ever so briefly, before the moment passed, I became an instant royalist.

The word charisma doesn't do the moment justice. She was the epitome of beauty and grace, a goddess of superhuman poise. Since then, 34 eventful years have passed. We're all older now. The Royal Family have revealed themselves to be all too human. But, at 84, Elizabeth is a survivor. On Sept. 10 2015, at the age of 89, she will surpass Queen Victoria as the longest-reigning monarch in British history. I wouldn't bet against her making it.

Starburst over Shorewood Hills

There were fireworks of every kind in the Madison area this weekend, beginning with the big Elver Park event Friday, the Rhythm and Booms extravaganza in Warner Park Saturday (the Midwest's larges fireworks display), and then the smaller events in neighborhoods and smaller municipalities on the date of the actual holiday Sunday night.

We prefer the smaller, more intimate celebrations and T and M and I made our ritual pilgrimage to the Shorewood Hills fireworks, despite the threat of rain after a week of glorious weather. The timing of the volunteer firefighters who put on the show couldn't have been any better. They must been monitoring the approaching storms on Doppler radar. The show started a few minutes early, just to be on the safe side, and the grand finale was well underway when the first sprinkles started to fall. Perfect timing.

2010 "dark and stormy night" contest winner announced

The winner of the 2010 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest (for bad opening sentences) is up on their website. There's no way within the constraints of fair use to quote something so short, so go to their website. Spoiler alert: It does involve a thirsty gerbil.

However, I can quote the sentence by the master who was widely hailed as the writer of the worst opening sentence in English fiction.

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents--except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.

Edward George Bulwer-Lytton not only opened his 1830 novel, Paul Clifford, with these immortal words but inspired renowned beagle writer Snoopy and the contest as well.

Just wondering: A question about the Roof Top Bar & Bistro for Sundance Madison

The question is not about the Negroni, the recipe for which the bartender had to Google on his iPhone. That was kinda cute -- miracle of the internet and all that. And it isn't about our OK but bland Caesar salads. We didn't go there for the ultimate gourmet experience, but to enjoy the sun, a drink and a light dinner before the show. Nothing wrong with that.

The question relates to something Raphael Kadushin also encountered and commented on in his Isthmus review this week.

Unfortunately, no one apparently was prepared for a sunny evening and a full house hoping to finish dinner before the early show of Sex and the City 2. A lot of them never made it. Most of the tables surrounding us on that first visit were waiting more than an hour for any plates of food at all, quite a few of them were vocally complaining, and the group of women seated next to us had to settle for their dinners packed in plastic carry-out containers.

By the time we went there recently, the service time had improved. Since we were at the bar tables, we had to order from the bar -- but it still took about half an hour from the time we got our drinks to the arrival of our salads. Our glasses had been drained, and we were starting to count the minutes until showtime instead of leisurely admiring the view of Hilldale Shopping Center cars, pedestrians and rooftops, as we had planned. My question is, why?

Sundance recently brought in Mark Shoup, the executive chef for Robert Redford's Zoom, Foundry Grill and Tree Room restaurants, to revamp the menu.

We're thrilled to bring A Taste of Sundance to the Sundance Cinemas in Madison open now, lasting until Labor Day. Mark Shoup, the Executive Chef for Robert Redford's Zoom, Foundry Grill and Tree Room restaurants has designed a special menu gleaned from all the restaurants. All summer our patrons will get a wonderful hint of what it would be like to visit and eat at the Sundance Resort in Utah.

That's all fine and dandy, but again, my question for Sundance is, why? I don't really want a "wonderful hint of what it would be be like to visit and eat at the Sundance Resort in Utah." The rooftops of Hilldale aren't the mountains of Utah -- or even the shores of Lake Mendota. The Roof Top Bar & Bistro is not your ultimate fine dining or scenic destination.

I'm going to a movie in a shopping center, for chrissake. At a theater that offers a premium movie-going experience at a premium price. If you're redesigning the menu, why not design it with that in mind? You know patrons don't have a lot of time. If they had more time, they'd be eating earlier and elsewhere. So wouldn't it make sense to design your menu and your operation for speedy and efficient service? What is it about "moviegoer" that you don't understand? Just wondering

Nora Ephron has been reading Stieg Larsson

Nora Ephron calls her take on the Swedish author's series of books featuring Lisbeth Salander "The Girl Who Fixed the Umlaut."

There was a tap at the door at five in the morning. She woke up. Shit. Now what? She’d fallen asleep with her Palm Tungsten T3 in her hand. It would take only a moment to smash it against the wall and shove the battery up the nose of whoever was out there annoying her. She went to the door.

“I know you’re home,” he said.

Kalle fucking Blomkvist.

She tried to remember whether she was speaking to him or not. Probably not. She tried to remember why. No one knew why. It was undoubtedly because she’d been in a bad mood at some point. Lisbeth Salander was entitled to her bad moods on account of her miserable childhood and her tiny breasts, but it was starting to become confusing just how much irritability could be blamed on your slight figure and an abusive father you had once deliberately set on fire and then years later split open the head of with an axe.

Salander opened the door a crack and spent several paragraphs trying to decide whether to let Blomkvist in. Many italic thoughts flew through her mind. Go away. Perhaps. So what. Etc.

There's more in the current New Yorker. It's pretty funny even if you haven't read the Millennium trilogy. If parody is the sincerest form of flattery, she must really like it.

"Moonrise" at the Alliant Energy Center

As the moon rose over the hill it seemed so close that you could touch it -- in an alternate universe where its surface turned out not to be not cratered, but rather folded in geometric, regularly spaced pleats instead.

View Large On Black