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Friday, March 11, 2011
Outoor Recreation in the Ann Arbor Area
There's no shortage of options for outdoor recreation in the Ann Arbor area. Outdoor enthusiasts will be impressed with our wide variety of parks, golf courses, bike trails, and more. When you visit Ann Arbor, you can hike in a State park, have a boating adventure on the Huron River, and hit the links at many impressive and unique courses - and do it all again the next day when you plan an overnight stay.
The City of Ann Arbor and Washtenaw County offer many options for parks and recreation - click here for a complete list. If golf is your game, be sure to check out Leslie Park Golf Course - named one of the country's best municipal golf courses by Golf Digest in 2009. Adventurers will also enjoy kayaking the "Urban Jungle:" start your paddle at Ann Arbor's Argo Park and get ready for a scenic adventure through natural and urban scenery.
For more ideas, check out our Plan a Visit section.
Monday, April 19, 2010
For the Best Belgian Beer, Come to the Ann Arbor Area
When The New York Times published a ranking of Belgian-style beer -- based on a blind taste test -- the top spot went to a golden ale from a small brewery in Dexter, Michigan, just west of Ann Arbor. Oro de Calabaza, from Jolly Pumpkin Artisan Ales, beat out 19 other beers, several of them from -- you guessed it -- Belgium. The beer is the work of Ron Jeffries, who owns Jolly Pumpkin Artisan Ales.
During your visit to the Ann Arbor Area, you can check out the small brewery in Dexter, or head to the Jolly Pumpkin Cafe and Brewery in downtown Ann Arbor.
Monday, March 08, 2010
The Ann Arbor Art Fair, July 20-23
The popular Ann Arbor Art Fair will be held in downtown Ann Arbor from July 20-23.
For more than 50 years, artists with amazing talents and unsurpassed skills have come to the streets of Ann Arbor in July to exhibit at the Ann Arbor Art Fairs. The Fairs are an impressive sight to see: no matter what direction you take, no matter where you look, you’ll discover colors and sights that will energize and captivate.
For more information, visit www.artfairs.visitannarbor.org.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
An Epicurean Adventure in Ann Arbor
What makes the Ann Arbor Area a dining destination? For one, there's variety: from brew pubs to ethnic eateries to elegant restaurants and comfort foods, the area offers something to please any palate. So where do you start? That's for you to decide, but in case you need more direction, read on to find out how Chicago Tribune reporter Christopher Borelli spent three days gorging in Ann Arbor.
Day 1
8 a.m. I begin my gastronomic Ann Arbor weekend with a light breakfast at Zingerman's Delicatessen, a warm-up breakfast to my actual breakfast later that morning. A spacey young guy who talks extremely slowly and wears a tweed hat takes my order: a bowl of polenta with golden raisins and honey and a house-baked bagel covered in fennel seed with a light smear of the tangy cream cheese from Zingerman's Creamery. The deli has the crowded feel of a club that has welcomed too many into its fold; I am wedged between the artisan pretzels and the smoked-salmon case. I break free and read descriptions of sandwiches for a few minutes -- smoked Montreal meats, variations on New Orleans' muffuletta, Berkshire pork shoulder on an onion roll -- then head next-door to Zingerman's coffeehouse (an actual house) and read the newspaper and eat a golden mountain of polenta.
10 a.m. Having had my warm-up breakfast, I walk a few blocks to Cafe Zola for the real breakfast. On the way, I stop to look at an example of a local phenomenon, the Fairy Door -- miniature doors built into random buildings. At Zola, I ask about them. The rumor is that real fairies built them, my server says, her eyes wide. A 2-second Internet search on my iPhone reveals it's the work of a local artist named Jonathan. Still, the challah French toast at Zola is to be worshiped, made from Zingerman's braided challah, charred, eggy and sweet.
11:30 a.m. Students are huddled in the windows of every coffee shop. The day is overcast. I pick Sweetwaters Coffee & Tea and nuzzle into a mug of ginger lemon tea. It has a spicy burn, but the dab of honey mellows my harsh. There's a high school across the street. A woman stands outside the gates at lunchtime and puts down her bags and slips into a sandwich board. It reads, "Talk to me about socialism." Remarkably, when class breaks for lunch, a number of students stop and ask her about socialism.
2 p.m. In the Kerrytown Market, a block from Zingerman's, I have lunch. I begin with a Seoul Dog at Kosmo. It is a hot dog wrapped in bacon, deep fried, covered in mozzarella and grilled kimchi. I take a bite and put it down, sparing my aorta. Two feet away is Monahan's Seafood, a market within the market but with tables. Mike Monahan, one of the founders of Zingerman's (but no longer a partner), is behind the counter. His fish and chips are rich and crisp, but the oyster poor-boy -- on a baguette from a local Japanese bakery, with pickled veggies at the bottom -- is as delicately fried as a New England clam roll.
8 p.m. I head back to the deli for a Montreal Reuben, which is peppered, hot, on house-made rye. My cider is the color of squash. My pickle is big and perfect. I consider that it might be wax.
Day 2
11 a.m. After a morning walk through the farmers market -- organic everything, basically -- I head for Zingerman's Bakehouse and my afternoon Italian cookie class, which is in a non-descript office park. I learn a few things: They make better Boston Brown Bread than my grandmother; I'm incapable of using a pastry bag; and Gail, my cooking-class partner, has taken "more baking classes than anyone on Earth." Our instructor, his face frozen in a look of amusement, his jackboots covered in a Rorschach of flour and anise seed, walks us through biscotti and amaretti. Gail gets on my nerves.
4:15 p.m. Shouted down by the burger people.
5:30 p.m. Let me tell you about Dominick's. The restaurant's dark wooden-beamed porch and stained-glass windows and posters of old hippies past recall a time when Ann Arbor was the Berkeley of the Midwest. On days when the University of Michigan football stadium ("The Big House") is bursting, when its 100,000-plus attendees spill into the streets and snarl traffic for miles, you can hear the distant roar at Dominick's, which is miles away. I've been here a few times over the years, and each time a large man with beady eyes sits in front and sips beer and wipes sweat from his head. Beside him is a stack of books with titles like "The War of the Austrian Succession." I nod to him, then get in line. Built into the floor is a tiled sign reading "Wait Here." I wait, then order a Constant Buzz ($21.04). It is truth in advertising, a strawberry slush that includes tequila, triple sec, gin, rum and vodka.
7 p.m. For dinner, we drive a couple of miles out of downtown and find Zingerman's Roadhouse, whose chef, Alex Young, has become a multiple James Beard Award nominee. I spend 10 minutes examining the menu, which reads like a roll call of traditional American cooking, every corner of the country covered: oyster hash and deep-fried pork chop and Sprecher's root beer from Wisconsin and buttermilk-fried chicken and Texas cabrito (goat) and six kinds of macaroni and cheese. The hush puppies (in a nod to UM) use blue and yellow corn. Ari Weinzweig, the owner, in a black T-shirt, sleeves rolled, pours water.
Day 3
11:30 a.m. We head back to the Roadhouse. Ari is there again, pouring water, weirdly attentive for a guy worth a gazillion. I order Hangtown Fry, a variation on oyster hash, made with bacon. It's not on the menu; it's a northern California dish, a mining tradition. But they bring out something very close and full of smoke. The extent these people go to attend to your wishes is nuts. I am eating a bagel when the server comes over to give me a black napkin. The white one might flake on my black sweater. We joke and ask her if they will do anything. Yes, says the server, not joking. She explains that they once ran out and got beer and Red Bull at a supermarket for someone. My friend is allergic to potato, yet his plate has a potato. The server steps back in horror and grabs the plate, then asks him: Do you want to nibble on the part not touching the potato while you wait?
2:30 p.m. We drive to Zingerman's Creamery for a tour. It is as hot inside as Washington in July. The cheesemaker pops fresh mozzarella into his hand, squeezes it through his fingers until a ball forms, then snips it off and holds it aloft. Everyone sighs .
4 p.m. Nine miles away is the Dexter Cider Mill, which is 123 years old, the cider press made of a dark oak stained by hundreds of thousands of apples. Behind the wooden barn, a wheelbarrow holds the apple mash, squeezed of its juices. We grab a bag of hot sugared doughnuts and a couple of foam cups of hot cider and sit on a log, watching the Huron River hustle past.
9 p.m. We wrap up with a Zingerman's Roadhouse special dinner. Once a month, a theme is chosen, a guest chef selected. These dinners are fascinating, and huge -- a $45 dinner based on the history of Greek-Jewish food in America, a $45 dinner about the little-known story of black chefs in the White House. This night I attend a Vampires Ball. The food is Irish, every dish a play on a spooky Celtic legend, Chef Alex telling of sauces "churned with a dead man's hand," stepping from his kitchen to remind us that the butter on our Irish soda bread should be so thick that it "touches your gums before the food does."
At the end of the night, my stomach distended, I fall into a coma. Irish folklorist Kevin Danaher, large and smiling and bleary-eyed, sends the guests off with a proverb. It doubles as a nice reminder of the lure of Ann Arbor -- and of comfort food itself:
"Easy to halve the potato where there's love."
Monday, May 11, 2009
For a Hearty Midwestern Appetite, Ann Arbor
From The Chicago Tribune, by
ANN ARBOR, Mich. -- The first time I heard that people lived in Orlando, I couldn't shake the idea: Where would such people sleep? The Magic Kingdom? There's a government? A mayor who doesn't wear a mouse head and pose for pictures?
This is an occupied territory. Not a city.
To that list, add Ann Arbor.
If you've ever lived in this bucolic college town (population 114,000), gone to school here (at the University of Michigan), worked here (home to Domino's Pizza and Borders world headquarters) or dreamed of living here (Ann Arbor routinely lands on those Best Places To Live lists), you might take umbrage -- but never has a nice Midwestern town been so dominated by a delicatessen.
This is Zingerman's Delicatessen, a red-brick wedge of a building on a cobblestone street. As I learned recently, with all the classes and special dinners and tours and gorging it offers, one can spend days at Zingerman's -- the way one might spend days at Disney World and barely see Orlando. Or rather, one can spend a weekend, going from Zingerman's to Zingerman's Roadhouse to Zingerman's Bakehouse to Zingerman's Creamery and also Durham's Tracklements, Kosmo's lunch stand -- to the many like-minded establishments here that emphasize quality comfort food. What I'm proposing, basically, is a food trip for those who can't afford a food trip to San Francisco. Here, the dream is reality, the makings of a va-HomerSimpson-cation, an entire trip around the eating of excessive amounts of corned beef, Guinness-based gelato, burgers coated in pimento cheese, and waffles made with grits.
To read the rest of this story, click here.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Jolly Pumpkin Artisan Ales
Michigan has been called "the great beer state," and Jolly Pumpkin Brewery is one of the many places in the area where you can experience brewing at its finest. Video courtesy of Ascalon Films.