While the staff at Seasons are as “Italian” as anyone in backing the traditions of Pepper Fest, they offer North Hudson alternatives as far as food, drink and fun.
Granted, there is Italian fare aplenty at Pepper Fest, and also at Seasons, but man does not live by that alone. On Saturday, Season’s puts on its Wicked (Buffalo) Wings Challenge, where you can test your where-with-all to consume a variety of the wings — and have a bit more time to complete the task then during spaghetti and hot pepper eating contests across the street, which although largely similar have their own appeal.
You also might try the noteworthy walleye entrees at Seasons, when combined with sauce give a food variation to cool your palette.
While the music at Pepper Fest doesn’t start until evenings, a versatile band begins at Seasons at 3 p.m. Saturday. This means patrons can listen to some live tunes while enjoying appetizers, as an alternative to eating contests next-door that just might leave you queasy.
Two of the three majorly-striped pedestrian walkways on the main Hwy. 35 intersection that needs to be negotiated, lead directly to the curb-cutout that’s the entry point to the large parking lot at Seasons. It’s probably easier to get to the restaurant and bar — as a patron — than the festival itself.
There’s ample vehicle parking for Seasons patrons, including a big overflow lot, on this weekend where some people walk for blocks to get to the Village Hall park and places nearby. They also can set-up their remaining parade seating after indulging in breakfast or Bloody Mary’s.
To that end, Seasons and some other venues have Pepper Fest buttons on sale for only $2, a savings of a buck over the price at the gate.
And especially if you’re a first-timer from out-of-town, Seasons bartenders and wait staff can tell you about the history, heavily loaded with community Italian lore, of the building in which you are a patron. From the varieties of past decor, which also include the newer log-cabin-style motif, to the past owners, this is something to be regaled in.

Share the Post:

Related Posts

My mom has told me not to be a potty mouth when I write, as she certainly would not appreciate hardly any of the standup humor on say, Comedy Central Radio. SNL maybe. But after 11:30 p.m. … But there comes a time where a man must make a stand. And for this jokester, it was now when he had to choose whether to pass on the opportunity that would otherwise bite him in the butt, for in front of and behind him is the Mother Lode. Or should I say load. Or “Mothers” of Invention. Heh heh, heh heh, Butthead, look...
So the wall is down. Of letters, that is. Not down by Mexico. Cemented into the concrete. Of the Kennedy Center. Where music has sat. (Near where a now defunct wrestling arena rusts in peace. Or a bloodied White House lawn. With leftover paper cups and plates, more likely bowls and small utensils, anyone?) Or more ornate than inside? A tarp the size of Pennsylvania, the predominant battle state, covers workers as they chip. So geez, how big are the letters? Four times 50 living workers high? But now none remain, or so we are told by flunkies. Or is...
A few years back, I wrote an article about Hudson Deacon Tom Kroll and how he did so many extra dutiful tasks, his living out the Gospels tirelessly, when his wife was ill, in addition to his regular job. I was inspired at the time to pen this, about my own lovely, disabled wife — we were separated briefly but now back together with our 40th anniversary this month, as wholehearted caregiving has many strains — and how an atypical view of standard roles, out of necessity, made things work, as far as our approach to work and home that’s...
What do fishing, maybe in the dark, thus a Texas ranch, snakes of various types and do they come or stay out after dusk, eating either and only fine food or snacks, and a game of cards — likely just one each — have in common. And no strippers or Chippendales. And an only half or quarter, not full Monty. (Who is Monty anyway?) Or cowboy or cowgirl hats. Although there was some dress-up. More Barbie than boots on, I think. It’s an easy answer, connected and conflicting, but not in all or dirty ways, bachelor and bachelorette parties. One of each...
It was clear to me at the most recent Jeff Loven music show in Hudson, for Memorial Day weekend, that there has been a changing of the guard. The sword has been passed. New blood, like Yungblud, has been brought in. And, I must say, loyalty — amongst the devotees who travel frequently and all across the two-state area to virtually all of Jeff’s shows — has been rewarded. They are the royalty, in what just makes good business sense that I can appreciate. In a significant but not unprecedented altering of course, I was not one of those asked...
Trial by fire. My broiling heart in my efficiency flat still beats a bit, in concern over those boiling over in worse apartments in a Chicago tenancy, or on an ocean island instantly-burn-your-feet beach or dessert, or forced to endure ice baths just to keep cool — or simply be offered no way to maintain an ice-dripping body other than also read a non-cookbook at the library, or select not a big steak you can’t afford but a 73/27 burger from a freezer and slap it on your forehead. Just not too hard. All these things are ones where you especially today either burn or...
Scroll to Top