A bag of rice arrived today, grown in Niigata, Japan. Because Japan exports very little of its crop, I had to specially order it. In a traditional multi-course meal, plain rice is served just before dessert to be enjoyed entirely on its own. Adding soy sauce is considered rude. Having failed to replicate that perfect glossy texture and subtle flavor at home, I’m finally going to try cooking the real thing.
Category: Place
Still there
With angry rock pounding and the vague smell of fried chicken, I reacquainted myself with a St. Paul, Midway institution, Ax-Man Surplus. Nothing had changed over the decades from the iron lung to the snarky signs. As I walked out, empty-handed, the gnarly guy at the counter asked me if I’d ever thought of buying something I didn’t want. I said they now had mindshare, which seemed to be a sufficient response.
Prairie in the city
Postponed our usual Sunday morning walk because of lightning and rain. On our now-afternoon walk, a block from home, this native planting meadow was flourishing with help from the morning’s rain. Until a couple years ago, this section of city park land was weedy, cut grass. Now, it delights pollinators and passers-by.
Up and down the river
Cycled up one side of the Mississippi and down the other. Here below the Lowry Avenue Bridge, two people are fishing, with downtown Minneapolis straight ahead at a bend in the river.
A shout-out for downtown living
It’s raining on-and-off all day, so I’m staying close to home. My morning consisted of three loads of laundry intertwined with an exercycle downstairs in the workout room, Open Book for an Americano and a donut, and Trader Joe’s for dinner provisions: just a few reasons we love living in ZIP 55415, the fastest-growing urban core in the country. (The infographic is AI-generated. Maxwell’s in an 1894 building, is our usual Thursday night dinner destination.)
Pit stop at Holman Field
The objective of today’s adventure with a friend was Holman Field, a general aviation airport across the Mississippi from downtown St. Paul. It’s named after Northwest Airlines’ first pilot, who died performing stunts. The top picture shows the 1939 terminal where we popped in for a cold beer on a steamy hot day; the staff were incredibly welcoming of two grungy cyclists. The lower picture shows a gate area, where the stairs lead up to a U.S. Customs office.
Party like it’s 2026
Pushed my bike past preparations for a Prince singalong celebration later today; he would’ve been 68 this weekend. First Avenue is right nearby, the venue where he often performed and which he made famous in Purple Rain.
Building a pot of joy
Coastal Seafoods is probably the best seafood store in the Twin Cities, and it was conveniently on my walk home from my gig at the library this morning. Tonight’s menu: seafood stew with cod, halibut, peppers, onion, garlic, potatoes, tomatoes, saffron, coconut milk, squeezes of lime, and anything else I can think of to round it out.
Hidden grounds
I always award myself an achievement unlocked if I find a new coffee shop while cycling. My method is to pull over and Google my immediate surroundings. Today, in an industrial area of St. Paul, I came across Port 2050 Coffee hidden inside a large, repurposed industrial building. Some serious art books that I’d normally expect to see in a library were spread out on the community table.
A case of mistaken produce
“Finally, grape tomatoes at the Asian supermarket!” I thought. A closer inspection, however, revealed they were actually kumquats. Tomatoes aren’t really a staple in much of Asian cuisine. On the walk home, I couldn’t think of a single Japanese dish featuring them. Back home, I looked it up and confirmed that tomatoes only started to catch on in Japan in the 20th century.