The next time I go to the doctor, I'm asking for lithium--I can't handle the mood swings of this volatile economy. One minute I'm heartbroken at the bankrupt death of quaint Bevo Mill; the next I'm cheered by a rumor that Mike and Joan Lang, owners of my beloved Dreamland Palace in Foster Pond, Ill., might buy the old beer-soaked windmill themselves. I call Mike, whom I know for his largesse with the wee sausage appetizers, passionate tableside discussions of history and politics and steady stream of jokes (this German thing tanks, he could be a stand-up comic, easy). "We're at the top of the list," he confirms, "but a lot has to happen first." I know city red tape; he need say no more. The main point is, he's not closing Dreamland Palace. That vegetable soup, clear as my grandmother's, will be there for the ladling; the schnitzels and spaetzles and sauerbraten will remain. And in a German city that has inordinate trouble sustaining good German restaurants, that's therapeutic news.
--Jeannette Cooperman, staff writer
