All along the highway toward southwest Wisconsin, there’s blowing snow and a hard sky, and I worry aloud to my husband that the whole place will be shut down, the weekend trip a bust. By the time we arrive in Spring Green, night has inked out all the town’s windowpanes — all except those at the Slowpoke Lounge (137 W. Jefferson St.), whose glow seems a beacon.
After a three-and-a-half-hour drive from Chicago, we are ravenous and a little dazed, and it’s only after we’ve ordered drinks and food that
