I created my first truly original beer recipe this week — meaning not inspired by Babcia, not Polish-themed, just purely Jake. A New England-style hazy IPA. Citrusy, juicy, soft, the kind of beer that West Coast beer snobs hate and everyone else loves.
I've been wanting to do an IPA for a while. Helen's Wheat, Forest Floor, Babcia's Kitchen, Bay View Bloom — they're all malt-forward, subtle, restrained. The IPA is the opposite: bold, tropical, in-your-face. Citra and Mosaic hops, oats for body, a London ale yeast for haze. I brewed the test batch on Thursday and the brewhouse smelled like a mango exploded.
Marcus watched me work and said, "This is different for you." I said, "That's the point." He nodded. He understands that a brewer needs range, needs to prove they can do more than one thing. The Polish beers are my identity, but I can't let them become my cage.
I'm calling it Day Off — because it's the kind of beer you drink when you're not working, not trying, just existing. A lazy Saturday beer. A balcony beer. A beer that asks nothing of you.
At the column, June's piece is due soon. I'm writing about the smoker — specifically, about smoking meat in winter, on a balcony, in Milwaukee, which is objectively insane but also perfectly Midwestern. The piece is really about stubbornness, which is the defining trait of both Polish grandmothers and Wisconsin smokers. The connection practically writes itself.
Farmers' market haul this week: morel mushrooms (expensive, worth it), spring onions, fresh herbs, strawberries. I made a morel cream sauce over fresh pasta — butter, shallots, morels sautéed until golden, white wine, heavy cream, thyme. The morels have a deep, earthy, almost meaty flavor that makes regular mushrooms taste like cardboard by comparison. Served over fettuccine. It was obscenely good. This is not Babcia's food — she'd have looked at morel cream pasta and asked where the pierogi were — but it's food that my expanding palate demands.
I'm cooking with more range now. Polish foundation, American expansion, global curiosity. The fridge has sauerkraut and sriracha. The counter has pierogi dough and pasta flour. The spice rack has caraway seeds and gochugaru. This is who I'm becoming: a guy who knows where he comes from and isn't afraid of where he's going.
The morel cream sauce was the showstopper of the week — earthy, rich, obscenely good, as I said — but the farmers’ market haul that inspired it also left me with sweet summer corn and a pint of cherry tomatoes I wasn’t about to let go to waste. Fresh Corn and Tomato Fettuccine is the lighter, brighter counterpart to that indulgent cream sauce: still pasta, still seasonal, still built on whatever the market had that morning, but easier and faster when you’re coming off a long brew day. This is the kind of dish that proves range — you can make something elegant and satisfying without butter, cream, or a grandmother looking over your shoulder.
Fresh Corn and Tomato Fettuccine
Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 12 oz fettuccine
- 3 ears fresh corn, kernels cut from the cob
- 2 cups cherry tomatoes, halved
- 4 cloves garlic, minced
- 3 tablespoons olive oil
- 1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
- 1/3 cup fresh basil leaves, torn
- 1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
- 1/2 cup reserved pasta water
- Salt and black pepper to taste
Instructions
- Boil the pasta. Bring a large pot of well-salted water to a boil. Cook fettuccine according to package directions until al dente. Before draining, reserve 1/2 cup of pasta water, then drain and set pasta aside.
- Sauté the aromatics. While pasta cooks, heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add garlic and red pepper flakes and cook, stirring constantly, for about 60 seconds until fragrant but not browned.
- Cook the corn. Add corn kernels to the skillet and cook for 4–5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the corn is just tender and beginning to pick up a little color at the edges.
- Add the tomatoes. Stir in the cherry tomatoes and cook for 3–4 minutes until they begin to soften and release their juices, forming a light, glossy sauce in the pan.
- Combine with pasta. Add the drained fettuccine to the skillet. Toss everything together over medium heat, adding reserved pasta water a splash at a time to loosen the sauce and help it cling to the noodles.
- Finish and serve. Remove from heat. Fold in torn basil and Parmesan, tossing until the cheese melts into the sauce. Taste and adjust salt and pepper. Serve immediately with additional Parmesan at the table.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 430 | Protein: 15g | Fat: 12g | Carbs: 68g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 310mg
About the cook who shared this
Jake Kowalski
Week 165 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.