May. The brewery taproom has a patio and it's officially open. This is a big deal — Lakefront's patio overlooks the Milwaukee River and on a warm evening it's one of the best spots in the city. People come for the beer and stay for the view and the sunset and the feeling that summer is almost here.
I'm starting to feel restless at the brewery. Not unhappy — I love the work — but curious about what else is out there. I've been here almost two years. I've created recipes. I've learned from Marcus. But the head brewer's question keeps echoing: what kind of brewer do you want to be? I know my style — Polish-influenced, tradition-forward — but I don't know my ambition. Do I want to stay at Lakefront forever? Open my own place someday? The pierogi shop dream is still in the back of my head, but it feels far away. Like a someday that might never come.
I told Marcus about the restlessness on Thursday. He didn't look surprised. "Every brewer hits this point around year two," he said. "You've learned enough to know what you don't know. That's uncomfortable. But it means you're growing." Marcus, as always, had the answer before I finished asking the question.
At home, I hosted Kevin and two brewery guys for dinner. First time I've cooked for friends, not just family. I made pulled pork (slow cooker, proven recipe), coleslaw from scratch (first time — the dressing was too vinegary but Kevin said it was "tangy, in a good way," which I choose to believe), and cornbread. We ate on my tiny balcony, squeezed around a card table, drinking Lakefront IPAs.
Kevin said, "Dude, you should post this stuff. On Instagram or something. People would eat this up." I laughed it off. Me on Instagram? Posting photos of food I made in a tiny apartment kitchen? Who wants to see that?
But I thought about it on the drive to Babcia's on Sunday. And I kept thinking about it.
Babcia made a spring lamb stew — tender chunks of lamb with young carrots and potatoes and dill. She only makes lamb in spring. Some dishes belong to their seasons.
That balcony dinner with Kevin and the brewery guys was the first time I’d cooked for friends instead of family, and the coleslaw was the dish that surprised me. The pulled pork was a proven recipe, the cornbread was simple enough, but making slaw from scratch? That was new territory. Mine came out too vinegary — Kevin was being generous — so I went back and reworked the dressing until it hit that bright, tangy sweet spot without making you wince. This is the version I wish I’d served that night.
Savoy Cabbage Coleslaw
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 15 minutes | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 1/2 head savoy cabbage, cored and thinly sliced
- 2 medium carrots, peeled and grated
- 3 green onions, thinly sliced
- 1/4 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped
- 1/3 cup mayonnaise
- 2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
- 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
- 1 tablespoon honey
- 1/2 teaspoon celery seed
- 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Instructions
- Prep the vegetables. Thinly slice the savoy cabbage and place it in a large bowl. Add the grated carrots, sliced green onions, and chopped parsley. Toss to combine.
- Make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together the mayonnaise, apple cider vinegar, Dijon mustard, honey, celery seed, salt, and pepper until smooth.
- Dress the slaw. Pour the dressing over the cabbage mixture and toss until everything is evenly coated.
- Chill and serve. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes before serving to let the flavors meld. The savoy cabbage stays crisp longer than regular cabbage, so this holds well for several hours. Toss again before serving.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 110 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 10g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 280mg
About the cook who shared this
Jake Kowalski
Week 58 of Jake’s 30-year story
· Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Jake is a twenty-nine-year-old brewery worker, newlywed, and proud Polish-American from Milwaukee's Bay View neighborhood. He didn't start cooking until his grandmother Babcia Helen passed away and left behind a stack of grease-stained recipe cards. Now he makes pierogi from scratch, smokes meats on a balcony smoker his landlord pretends not to notice, and writes for guys who want to cook good food but don't know a roux from a rub.