Say a prayer for the common foot soldier, spare a thought for the back-breaking work. Say a prayer for his wife and his children, who burn the fires and still till the earth.

Every Thanksgiving my son and I drive 90 minutes into western Wisconsin to visit the Coon Creek family farm. We buy a heritage turkey or two. They are, hands down, better than store-bought by leaps and bounds. But that’s not the only reason we go there. We go because of Vince and Julie Maro.

They are the salt of the earth. If Chicago was Sinatra’s kind of town, the Maros are my kind of folks. Vince hails from the windy city, so there’s a certain “been there, done that” intensity to his countrified manner that makes the Coon Creek space even tastier. And, the heritage turkey is the most rich and luscious I’ve ever had. My friend Andrew Zimmern gave Coon Creek a shout out a few years ago and now we wouldn’t go anywhere else for our big bird. Is this a paid political announcement? Nah. Full disclosure, we do leave the farm each year with a few squash or vegetables that Vince and Julie throw in, but let’s call them gift with purchase. Continue reading →