We left Canada in the morning and headed back into Michigan. We had tickets for a tour to see Frank Lloyd Wright’s Smith house, the Cranbrook House and Gardens, and Eliel Saarinen’s art deco house on the Cranbrook Academy campus the following day.
Problem was that since staying more than one night in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan, (where the Cranbrook Academy is located) would be prohibitively expensive, we decided to stay further away. Which is how we ended up in Grand Rapids, Michigan, a town we had never been to.
Gerald Ford Presidential Museum
We got there later in the afternoon than planned (border crossings, traffic and a lackluster fast food lunch contributed to the delay) but ended up at the Gerald Ford Presidential Museum with just enough time left to tour the museum.
Was it coincidental that we ended up there exactly 50 years to the day (August 9) that he took office? Perhaps. What was particularly interesting for me is that since I was living in Munich at the time (and a teenager), there was a lot of American history and goings-on that I didn’t know about. I mean, yes, I knew about Vietnam, Watergate, and Nixon, but not much more than that. Consequently, I thought the museum was fascinating and they even recreated the oval office. Plus, they also had the famous needle nose pliers, and the screwdriver used to break into Watergate on display.
Both Gerald Ford and his wife Elizabeth (Betty) are buried on the property and there are statues of them, too.
Downtown Grand Rapids
After the museum we drove through downtown Grand Rapids. There were quite a few people walking around and some sort of downtown festival. What we noticed, however, were the stores and the restaurants! Apparently, we had stumbled back into civilization; that was the good part of the afternoon. The bad part was we checked into a Homewood Suites that occupied a certain number of floors of an old building. We have stayed at properties like this before and I find it disconcerting not knowing where to check in or park your car.
After finding the “front desk,” we were upgraded to a bigger suite with a window and a view of the downtown. We started to unpack and as I went to pee, I found out that the toilet wouldn’t flush. So, we called downstairs and one of the managers came up with a key to a different room on the same floor. This room had one window that looked at the interior of the parking garage and nothing else. The room was dark and depressing. I decided to ignore the situation and figured I would just politely complain in the morning.
Dinner at Leo’s
There has been a trend lately of restaurants texting me nearly 30 minutes before a reservation to tell me my table is “ready.” If I made a dinner reservation at 7:30, why would I possibly want to show up 30 minutes earlier? This has a profound negative effect on my mood before I’m even there. Primarily because it signals to me that 1) the restaurant is not crowded (bad sign, especially if it’s a Friday or Saturday night), and 2) the kitchen wants to close so everyone can go home.
We arrived at Leo’s at exactly 7:31. The place was not crowded and the interior of the restaurant left something to be desired. (Think hotel dining room anywhere in the world). I had picked Leo’s because it was known for its seafood. Even though we had spent the last four days eating fish, when you are as land-locked as we are now living up in the Mohawk Valley of Upstate NY, you eat as much fish as you can when traveling.
It technically wasn’t warm enough to have soup (I’m finicky that way about seasons and soup eating), but for some reason the salmon chowder that was on the menu appealed to me. A combination of both smoked and fresh salmon with chunks of potatoes and some corn, this chowder was really good. It doesn’t look like much here, but it was tasty.
Mussels were next. The tomato broth was really fresh and tomatoey, but I was so captivated by the beautiful plate it was on that when I was done, I actually turned it over to see if I could find out where it was made. (No clue.) And finally, another round of perch. We had two more days left in Michigan and I knew that tonight would be the last fish we’d eat on the trip. Sigh. The perch was just okay. And we passed on dessert.
Calder Plaza
Afterwards we walked around downtown Grand Rapids a bit – primarily to see if we could see the Alexander Calder sculpture, “La Grand Vitesse,” which we did. I also liked the way the town had renovated some of the old buildings but kept a few interesting architectural elements. (Think gas lighting.) It was a fun walk after our meal.
Back on the Road
Before we left the hotel in the morning, I did mention how unhappy I was about the room and the parking and the toilet situation. We must have gotten lucky because the general manager was actually working the desk and comped us not only the room, but the parking as well. Thank you for that!
Our architectural tour started at 1 p.m. and would last roughly four hours. I really dislike any event that interrupts a meal but figured we could grab something for a quick, early lunch somewhere.
We drove about two hours southeast and reached Bloomfield Hills. If anyone has ever visited Bloomfield Hills, do you know what’s missing? SIDEWALKS! We headed towards the commercial strip first and got a turkey wrap to go. And since I was adamant that I couldn’t leave Michigan without having a slice of cherry pie, we just happened to find a pie store. Did you know pie stores even existed? I didn’t. Fortunately, they did have slices of cherry pie. Was it the best pie I’ve ever had. No, but that’s not the point.
Cranbrook Art Museum
We met in the courtyard of the academy to check in at the Cranbrook Art Museum and to get our bearings. Founded by George Booth in 1927, he was instrumental in starting the arts and crafts movement in the U.S. and teamed up with Eliel Saarinen (father of more famous architect Eero Saarinen) to develop plans for the campus. The museum was completed in 1942, and unfortunately, we didn’t have time to walk through the exhibition. But I loved the gardens and all the fountains.
A Three House Tour: Cranbrook First
We started by seeing the Cranbrook house first. While it was grandiose (think Tudor) on the outside and had some interesting features, I’ve come to dislike this kind of architecture and furnishings. Everything seems old and musty. I did like their library, and they had an interesting German wood carving that reminded me of Munich. Also, some painted ceilings that gave the place a European je ne sais quoi. When I looked through my photographs, it seemed that I took more pictures of the exterior of the house (grounds, etc.) than inside.
The Saarinen House
Eliel Saarinen designed a house on campus where he and his wife Loja, lived for over 20 years (1930-1950). The Cranbrook Art Museum’s website describes it as a “beloved architectural treasure,” and I couldn’t agree more. This house appealed to all my senses – the clean lines, the modern furniture, even the paint colors they chose for the walls, as well as the floor coverings.
And don’t even get me started on the furniture. Look at this photograph of a bedroom with the original womb chair and ottoman designed by Eero Saarinen. Notice anything that kind of looks Ikea-like? Yep, he was the guy who did it first. And a closet with pull out shelves? (I had a version of this when I was in Munich; it’s very practical.)
I couldn’t resist sharing this photograph of our tour group, all wearing booties, and extremely enthusiastic about the houses and the architecture.
Finally, Frank
I wanted to like this Frank Lloyd Wright house, but I found it underwhelming and cluttered. What I did love about it was the back story. Melvyn and Sara Smith met Frank Lloyd Wright in 1941 and commissioned him to design a house. Frank, in his customarily dismissive attitude when potential clients would approach him, told them to find property first and come back when they found it. Apparently, even though Melvyn and Sara had absolutely no money and were earning paltry salaries as teachers, if you split a hot dog for dinner with your spouse and save every last penny that you earn, you too, can buy land. This property eventually became a Frank Lloyd Wright Usonian house that the Smith’s then had to build themselves. (And I thought renovating the Red House was difficult…)
In true FLW fashion, this kitchen is compact and designed for people who don’t cook. And look at the twin beds and the ugly green bathroom!
There was also an extension that was added on at some point. I did like the dining room and thought the chairs were fun.
After the Smith’s built the house, they also became avid collectors of things. (Think borderline hoarders.) That’s why the house felt cluttered to me because there was a lot more stuff in this FLW house than others we’ve seen. I guess the moral of the story is to be careful what you wish for. You might end up with it.
The Town With No Sidewalks
We spent the night at a Hilton in the town with no sidewalks. When I inquired from the front desk clerk about this strange phenomenon, it was explained that the residents wanted to make sure that people who weren’t supposed to be there weren’t walking around making themselves “feel at home.” I assumed he meant people of color and since he himself was black, I took this to heart.
However, since we were having dinner across the street, we wondered, how would we actually get across the street? With all the traffic? And no crosswalks or lights? Answer: very carefully. We had our last dinner of the trip at an old school steak restaurant where I was so relaxed that I didn’t take a single picture of our meal! And that’s okay. We were heading home tomorrow, an 8 hour plus drive back to New York.
In case anyone is curious, my most recent short story on Substack was inspired by the visit to Cranbrook and the town with no sidewalks. Here’s the link if you haven’t read the first part of the two-part story.
We left Mackinaw City behind and headed up to see the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum in the town of Paradise, Michigan. Although their website claims that it is a very popular tourist destination, I didn’t believe it. Until we got to the parking lot and there wasn’t any parking. Luckily, we managed to find a spot along the road and made our way up to the museum.
There’s a lot to see. The lighthouse caught my attention first. Then the museum and the lighthouse keeper’s quarters that chronicled what it was like to be a lighthouse keeper in the late 1800’s. There was also an Edmund Fitzgerald film and exhibit about the loss of the ship back in 1975. They even played the Gordon Lightfoot song regarding the tragedy, and it could have been corny, but it wasn’t.
The Driftwood on the Beach
I was surprised by the amount of driftwood we saw on the beach. There were a few people swimming and I did dip my toes in the water to see how cold it was. (It was pretty cold.) Doesn’t Lynn look particularly handsome here? I think so.
After seeing the lake and the museum, we grabbed some lunch at a roadside tavern and headed to see some waterfalls. I mean, who doesn’t like a waterfall?
Tahquamenon Falls State Park
After paying the $11 non-resident fee to get into the park, we hiked a bit. Luckily, the walk to see the water was primarily a boardwalk. (This is important as you’ll see towards the end of this story.) Maybe I’m jaded because we have A LOT of waterfalls in New York State (including one in our own backyard). These were just okay. It was probably a good thing to do if it was really hot, and you were traveling with older children. The water looked very brown though, and I later learned it was because of the tannins from the surrounding trees that leak into the water. Apparently, it’s also nicknamed “Root Beer Falls,” which I thought was appropriate.
On to See the Locks
We had about an hour and a quarter to drive from the park to Sault St. Marie. The mission: to see the Soo Locks. Truthfully, it was kind of boring. I had read a lot about the locks – the key take away is that they are gravity-fed. Operated and maintained by the Army Corps of Engineers, there is also a small visitor center as well as an observation platform. So, we climbed the stairs to the top of the platform, and then everyone just kind of stands around and waits for a boat to come through the lock. When a boat does arrive, you get to watch as the boat goes down (or does the water go up?). This enables the boat to navigate through the St. Mary’s River (where the locks are located), and then make their way to either Lake Huron or Lake Superior. The museum (and the platform to view the boats) are free to the public although there is a security checkpoint when you enter the park. I had wanted to see the Soo Locks and now I did. So, I count myself lucky, if underwhelmed. (I attribute this sentiment to the fact that we, too, live near many locks on the Erie Canal and have watched boats navigate the waterways.)
Sault Ste. Marie (Ontario not Michigan)
When I had first told Lynn we were staying in Sault Ste. Marie as part of our trip, he thought we were staying in the Michigan town. No, I told him, we would be staying on the Canadian side. Why? Well, since I wanted to drive further up the coast in the morning to see more of Lake Superior, I figured it would be easier than having to go back and forth across the border. Plus, (and most importantly), there was an Asian-fusion restaurant that had caught my attention.
I will say that while Sault St. Marie, Michigan, wasn’t anything to write home about, neither was the Canadian town with the same name. Case in point: we stayed in a Holiday Inn that was across the street from a mall that had since gone out of business. That meant the entire area was pretty dead, but bizarrely the hotel was packed. I have to think it’s because 1) there was no place else to stay, and 2) everyone was heading somewhere else in the morning. We had a lovely suite with a fireplace even though it looked like it fell from the sky (it divided the room in half). And overall, maybe because there didn’t seem to be a lot of activity in the town, it was very quiet.
Dinner at Peace
I had picked this restaurant because it was a 5-minute walk from the hotel and also only one of two places in town that even looked decent. Actually, dinner at Peace that night was more than decent. The menu was exciting, the food was delicious, and Wednesday night they have a 50% off bottles of wine deal. We also had a great server, Ella, who besides walking us through some great menu choices, told us what we should see (Agawa Rock Pictographs), and eat (apple fritters), when we drove up the TransCanada Highway in the morning.
Peace’s menu focuses on small plates, so we had quite a few of those. To start: a spicy shrimp dish plated on a dish of julienned celeriac. A crispy salmon roll came out next, and then an octopus special that turned out to be my favorite dish. We were about to order mussels, too, when the table next to us ordered a round of bao buns. One look at their plates and our eggplant-stuffed version was headed our way. The cooking was creative, spicy, and Lynn thought it was the best meal of the trip. (My vote went to Grace’s in London, Ontario.)
The TransCanada Highway
We had planned for at least one real beach day on this trip and today was supposed to be the day. We woke up to chilly, gray skies, and the threat of rain. When we left the downtown area of Sault Ste. Marie heading north, I realized the cause of the town’s demise. Most of the shops and restaurants (primarily fast-food chains) had all moved to the strip outside of town. We’ve seen this in many cities we’ve traveled to and it’s just depressing.
We drove nearly two hours along the coastal highway and arrived at Agawa Bay to see the rocks. The sign shown below should have deterred me. It didn’t. Actually, we started out on the hike without any hiking gear, and quickly went back to the car and got our poles.
Was it treacherous? Yes. Was I extremely uncomfortable? Yes. Did I think I was going to die? (50/50). I kept quizzing those who had made the climb down and were now heading back up. 1) How much further is the trail? 2) Is it worth it? And 3) Does it get any worse? Every single person lied. This includes the Dad who was showing off by carrying his daughter on his shoulders.
In between hyperventilating, I did manage to take some pictures. Did I mention I’m afraid of heights? Not going up, but going down? Did I mention I also broke one of our hiking poles, so Lynn gave me his? See him holding the broken one?
In fairness, once we got close to the bottom of the trail and saw Lake Superior, I looked at Lynn and said, “That’s it.” I didn’t have to navigate any more dangerous boulders to look at basically the view I was getting now.
And then we walked back up (including me at one point having to crawl up one particularly annoying steep, rocky section), until we reached the car. Lynn said to me, when we had regrouped, that he thought I was going to quit long before I did. I didn’t, I kept going and now feel kind of proud about it. However, had we made it around that last bend, this supposedly is what would have greeted us.
The Biggest Apple Fritter I’ve Ever Seen
Even though after that “hike,” I could have easily tossed back a bottle of booze, we stopped at The Voyageur’s Lodge on Batchawana Bay to grab lunch. As mentioned, we knew about the apple fritters, but we wanted more than that. So, we split an order of fish tacos and fries, and ONE ENORMOUS APPLE FRITTER. We had taken our food outside to eat on their deck when it started to pour. We quickly ran to the car and ate there. I mean, look at the size of that fritter!
Harmony Beach
After finishing the fritter (it wasn’t bad even though I didn’t taste a hint of apple in the batter and luckily, it wasn’t a belly bomb), we decided to try and find a beach. Remember, going to Lake Superior and sitting on the beach, even briefly, was the purpose of the trip. (Besides touring the Frank Lloyd Wright house that would come later in the trip of course.)
It stopped raining when we reached Harmony Beach. There were a few brave ones in the water, but I was happy to just stand on the beach (fully clothed) and look at the lake. Had the weather cooperated, I think the view would have been pretty. These pictures just emphasized the dreariness of the day, but definitely not my mood. And yes, there was a lot of driftwood on this beach, too.
The Border Guard
Dare I mention that when we left Canada in the morning and crossed back into the States, the U.S. border guard wanted to know where we had been. When we mentioned the Agawa Pictographs, he didn’t even blink an eye. He just said, “You know people fall off those rocks and have to be rescued!”
Tomorrow we’re driving to Grand Rapids, and then our final destination, Bloomfield Hills, Michigan.
Lake Superior was the only great lake we had never seen. We weren’t planning on going to see the “last one” this summer, but when I researched going back to Maine and the Eastern Townships area of Quebec, those areas proved to be prohibitively expensive. So, a trip to Ontario, and the Upper Peninsula area of Michigan seemed a more affordable option.
Since I was celebrating a birthday and didn’t want to spend all day driving on my birthday, we decided to leave the day before. This way (we hoped) we’d have no issues crossing over the border into Ontario in the morning. Why was I so considered about border traffic? Because I had a lunch reservation at a winery that I didn’t want to miss.
Old School Cafe, Naples, NY
Our first stop though was lunch in Naples, NY. The Old School Cafe, right on the main road, had been on my “to do” list for a while, and it didn’t disappoint. But has anyone ever seen me post a picture of a waffle? The answer to that is NO. Even my daughter, Rachel, was alarmed that my first meal of our trip was something I never make, order, or eat. I just don’t eat waffles.
I’m not sure what possessed me that afternoon, but suddenly I wanted something different. Something sweet and something savory. Therefore, The Old School Cafe’s special that day, a buttermilk waffle topped with Korean spicy chicken, was definitely a hit.
On the way from Naples to Medina (where we were staying for the night), Lynn happened to mention a Louis Kahn church in Rochester that he had visited once in college. Could we detour he asked? Of course, I said yes, and luckily, it wasn’t even a detour, but a mere two minutes from the highway we were already on.
Louis Kahn in Rochester
The First Unitarian Church of Rochester was completed in 1962. The building was closed so we weren’t able to get inside, but we did walk around the entire structure. Was it the ugliest building I’ve ever seen? No. Here’s a photograph of it anyway.
Medina, New York
We had been to Medina a few years ago and had stopped for lunch. It seemed like a quirky town with a couple of decent restaurants and even some boutique-type hotels. Since Medina is only an hour away from the Canadian border, it seemed like a good choice since there was a restaurant there that I had my eye on, too.
Downtown Medina is small. You can walk both sides of the street in under 10 minutes and find yourself wondering what else to do. We came across a plaque, commemorating a speech Frederick Douglass gave. Was it coincidental that it just happened to be the same day (August 3), but 155 years later? Perhaps. (This also happened to us on another occasion on the trip.)
After walking around the downtown area, we decided to try and see Medina Falls. Unfortunately, the pathway overlooking the falls was crumbling and thus, a bit scary. Plus, there were so many trees and bushes overlooking the falls, that I couldn’t really get a decent view. Actually, had I not heard the sound of the water rushing (plus a dog barking whose owner somehow had managed to get down closer to the falls), I wouldn’t have known that the falls even existed.
After the lackluster viewing of the falls, I drove to see The Culvert Road. I knew that it was the only road under the Erie Canal, but didn’t know the “Ripley’s Believe It Or Not” connection. Apparently, we had missed it the last time we were in town, and since we were the only car on the road, it obviously wasn’t a trendy tourist thing to do. (Since I now live near the Erie Canal, most fun facts about the canal pique my interest.)
The Hart House Hotel
Now that we can travel any day of the week, we generally try to avoid Friday or Saturday nights because it’s always more expensive to stay on those days. Unfortunately, this time we didn’t have a choice, and luckily, the Hart House Hotel had one room available. I loved this quirky hotel and admired all the hard work the owners put into restoring it. It features a contactless check-in, and I’m glad they like to rave on their website that they now have an elevator since our room was on the third floor and the stairs were steep. And no, we didn’t sleep on the couch. Our room was quite large (hence the sitting area) and named after John Jacob Astor.
I would have liked to talk about the dinner we had that night in Medina because it was another reason we had decided to stay there. Alas, it turned out to be the most expensive meal of the trip, and disappointing, too. I rarely post a negative review of a restaurant I’ve been to, primarily because I don’t want anyone to lose their livelihood. I also understand the power of negative reviews on Tripadvisor and Google that can potentially turn people away. The few times I’ve had an issue with a meal, I’ve sent a note afterwards to the manager just as a heads-up and expect nothing in return. My silence about this particular restaurant will be enough.
On To Canada (But Lake Ontario First)
In the morning, we had time to kill before a 1:30 lunch reservation at Trius, a winery/restaurant we had been to before in Niagara-on-the-Lake. So, we decided to take the long way on Route 18 which runs along Lake Ontario. The weather that day was gorgeous, and we got to see a new lighthouse, Three Mile Point, as well as what looked like a laid-back summer town of Olcott. One takeaway from this ride were the gorgeous flowers (particularly sunflowers) that I saw blooming in everyone’s garden! For the birthday girl, it made her day!
Niagara-On-The-Lake
We have been to this area of Ontario many times and it’s still one of our favorite places to visit. Luckily, the border crossing was quick, and although we did end up driving through the town of NOL to see what was “new,” we just made it in time for our lunch reservation.
We sat outside and looked at the grapes still hanging on the vines. After discussing the hot weather we’ve had with our server, we learned that their harvest might be brought in about three weeks earlier this year. Since I know nothing about harvesting grapes, I just filed this away under something “good to know.” Followed by, yes, climate change is real!
Back to lunch. We had wine flights, and we had a tomato and nectarine salad. Then we had a cold smoked salmon plate with fingerling potatoes and poached shrimp. We split a slice of apricot cake with mousse that was frosted with a white chocolate ganache and whipped cream. We ordered more wine to go with dessert, and thinking about this lunch now makes me very hungry.
Most importantly, look how happy we are after this amazing meal!
London (Ontario that is)
Somehow, I had confused London, Ontario, with a town I thought we had been to and remembered as “charming.” This was not the same town. However, I specifically wanted to stay overnight there because of a restaurant that was on my “foodie radar.” I will mention how much I LOVE traveling through Canada, but how much I HATE the 401, the 405, the 403, and any other major highway that reminds me of being on Long Island. Unfortunately, to get anywhere quickly in Canada, these highways are your only option. Traffic is always bumper-to-bumper. But there aren’t any tolls, and there are “ONroute” rest areas every so often if you need to pee or a get a cup of coffee.
So, after getting off the 401, we made sure the restaurant we were going to was within walking distance of our hotel, and that there were sidewalks. (More on the latter later.) I had forgotten that the next business day was a civic holiday, which meant downtown London was pretty empty. Most people, I’m assuming, having departed for some sort of vacation or camping adventure elsewhere.
Dinner at Grace
Grace offers a CA$65 4-course prix fixe menu that you can’t beat. The Executive Chef, Angie Murphy, also has a sense of humor in that she has named many of her dishes. Case in point: the new potato and pickled cucumber dish that you see below, called “Velvet Underground,” is such an unassuming dish on the menu that I wasn’t sure if I should order it. However, this one totally wowed me. The potatoes and the cucumbers were so smooth (hence the velvet description, I assume) that I could have ordered another plate of that one dish alone. Next up: “Gold Bar” – polenta with eggplant, tomatoes, compressed zucchini, parmesan and basil in a thick tomato sauce. Lynn had a duck breast as an entree (not shown), but I went for something a bit unusual.
Titled “Doctor, Doctor” (put the lime in the coconut and call me in the morning), it featured Ube gnocchi with mushrooms, tofu, and cilantro in a hot coconut sour sauce. I did check with our server to make sure I knew about “Ube.” (It’s similar to a sweet potato, but actually a yam with a gorgeous purple color.) Finally, last but not least, dessert was a “Chocolate Mirage.” Also known as chocolate mousse on a stick with a sour cherry sorbet, the dish was fun and delicious. Oh, and in case you were wondering, the “stick” in question was actually a biscuit that was made to look like a stick and totally edible.
A Bit of Bavaria in Frankenmuth, Michigan
After leaving London in the morning, we crossed back over the border, and suddenly were in Michigan. Frankenmuth was a surprise to me. I was looking for a place to stop for lunch and didn’t know anything about this German-themed town near Saginaw, but still about three hours from our Mackinaw City destination.
Luckily, I had already scoped out the lunch possibilities and settled on Prost, a wine bar/restaurant that specialized in charcuterie. How could we resist that? It was very crowded, but we managed to get a seat at the bar. Since we knew we had a big dinner ahead of us, we decided to share a “German Heritage” board with a couple of beers. I was already feeling a bit elitist (having lived in Munich for so long) that I didn’t think the kitchen would be able to pull off a decent rendition, but they did.
Our board had some summer sausage, liver pate, black forest ham (the only cold cut that I wasn’t particularly fond of), as well as a mild “Butterkäse” cheese along with sauerkraut, pickles and bread. We drank Paulaner out of a can, and I was pleasantly surprised that the food was so good.
Afterwards we walked around town, and I tried to think I was in Bavaria – somewhere. I took a lot of pictures. There were murals, there were tons of flowers, and even a little Glockenspiel with dancing figurines. On the way out of town we even got to drive under an “Auf Wiedersehen” arch.
Mackinaw City Here We Come
I love to look at maps and would frequently look at a map of Michigan. (I know, I know, boring.) But looking at a map fuels my desire to travel and plan trips to see things I haven’t seen before. I had always wondered about Mackinaw City and the Mackinac Bridge which crosses the Straits of Mackinac connecting Lake Michigan and Lake Huron.
I had booked the cheapest hotel I could find for Mackinaw City in August. This meant we were staying at a Holiday Inn right near the bridge. The good news: we had a small balcony and even had a glimpse of the water. The bad news: if you sat outside on the balcony, you were accosted by never-ending traffic (including heavy trucks), so the noise level was pretty high. Luckily, the hotel was on the newer side (or renovated, I’m not exactly sure), and someone had the brains to not only put in room darkening shades in our room, but also install windows that kept all the noise outside.
The Holiday Inn was adequate for our two-night stay. But what we didn’t realize is that although we could almost see the restaurant we had booked that night from our hotel, we weren’t sure how to get there because of the bridge and the traffic. Luckily, we found a road that went under both. When given the option of walking to dinner, we usually prefer that over driving.
Audie’s for Dinner
Billed as a restaurant with both a “Family Room” and “Chippewa Room,” of course we walked into the family side by mistake. I will take a moment to comment on families that let their children 1) run around, 2) make a lot of noise and generally behave badly at the table, and 3) order off a kid’s menu when they are old enough to eat “real” food. I just can’t fathom having children who would behave like that in any restaurant and immediately feel hostile towards parents who don’t do anything to change their children’s behavior. End of rant.
Once we found the correct entrance, two things caught my eye on Audie’s menu. Perch and Whitefish. The last time I had eaten perch was when my grandmother, Theresa, was still alive. She lived in Whiting, Indiana, a mere 29 minutes from downtown Chicago, on the shores of Lake Michigan. Occasionally when I’d visit, I remembered many “all you can eat perch” meals at a place called Phil Smidt. Before they went out of business, I even found a retro-looking postcard that I’m particularly fond of. I even put the postcard in a small frame to remind me that their sauteed perch in butter sauce was the best I’ve ever eaten!
I was hoping Audie’s would be up for the challenge. While their perch was decent, it wasn’t the buttery, melt-in-your-mouth goodness I was looking for. Still, the menu was fun. We had some Oysters Rockefeller to start, followed by the perch, and apparently, someone had told them it was my birthday week, so we split some homemade vanilla maple ice cream for dessert.
And if anyone wants to see the glimpse of water from our little balcony and the bridge at night, I have photographs of that, too.
Tomorrow we’ll take the ferry over to Mackinac Island. You’ll be able to read about it on my next post.
The sound of the cannons being fired over the fort wall were loud. It was a warm sunny day and we found ourselves very happy to be back on the road again. Just under 2.5 hours from our house, the long tree-lined drive up to Fort Ticonderoga reminded me of trips we had done in the south visiting historical homes. Overlooking Lake Champlain, this 18th century fort had barracks to explore, fortified walls to climb, and most importantly, an amazing garden to “ooh and aah” over.
Our guided interpreters weren’t using real cannon balls that afternoon but dressed as British soldiers and American “provincial soldiers,” they put on a good show in pretending to defend the fort during the French and Indian War. We also learned about shoemaking and tailoring in the 1760’s and as much as we tried to get our “soldiers” to fall out of character by suggesting they order their britches from Amazon rather than sewing them by hand, they didn’t take the bait.
After holding our hands over our ears after the cannon firing, we headed towards the greenery. Called the “King’s Garden,” there is a bountiful vegetable garden (much of which was used I was told to create salads in the fort’s cafe) as well as an astonishing array of colorful flower beds and herbs. The fort was nice but truthfully, I could have sat in the garden all day.
Look at the lettuce, the over-sized sunflower, and the orange and yellow marigolds!
Here are some details from the garden door entrances and a lovely fountain in a reflecting pool.
After we left the garden, we had one last thing to visit before we left the area – Mount Defiance. A short 10-minute drive from the fort, a token we were given when buying the tickets had to be inserted into what looked like a parking meter. The people in front of us were having a bit of a problem with this task. It turned out that the distance between the meter and the driver’s side of the vehicle was too far. This meant that someone had to get out of the car, insert the token, then quickly jump back in the car so you didn’t run the risk of having the barrier gate hit your windshield. Sigh. Was this the best (only?) idea someone could come up with to give visitor’s access to the road that led up to the Mount? Once we dealt with this annoyance, the view at the summit of Lake Champlain and the fort in the distance was pretty amazing. We stayed a bit longer than planned to hear our costumed interpreter talk about everything that was wrong with the fort. First of all, the walls surrounding the fort weren’t high enough to ward off invaders, and secondly, it was facing the wrong way. Today, however, when you look at the picture I took, it kind of looks like a halfway decent condo complex.
Lake George Revisited
After visiting the fort, we drove south to Lake George. Although we had driven through Lake George a few times coming back from someplace else (probably Canada), we hadn’t stayed in the area in 20+ years. Eschewing the more touristy Lake George main area, we settled on a family-run resort in Diamond Point.
The Juliana Resort was a quirky motel with ranch style accommodations. Before booking, the reservation site was very specific about your room amenities and views. Therefore, given the option of having a “parking lot view” or at least a glimpse of the lake, I chose the latter.
Well, it wasn’t the sprawling view of the lake I thought it would be and the “beach” aspect of the resort was probably the tiniest piece of sand I had ever seen, but there was a dock, and the mountains were pretty. Also, the room was clean, and the grounds were well-kempt with lots of grills and outdoor tables and even a wooden “Adirondack-style” swing that we did indeed swing in.
Dinner Options
If you remember my story from two years ago about our dearth of food options (and only a single food shot – BBQ in Richmond, VA), I was determined that was absolutely not going to happen on this trip. I planned hotel stays based around restaurants I wanted to dine in. In the Lake George area, I knew this would be a challenge since “red-sauce” and “wing-type” places outnumber any true culinary finds. Well, you probably know where this is going, right? The restaurant we ate in (which I will not name) on the first night of our road trip looked okay on their website. Right on the lake and only a short six-minute drive from the motel, it boasted not one but three outdoor decks, a no-reservation policy, and what they described as “stunning views.”
When we arrived for dinner, I didn’t see any food on anyone’s table. What I did see were half-eaten plates of nachos, bread baskets that appeared to have been untouched, and lots and lots of empty wine glasses. It’s not like we had the option of going anywhere else, right?
We ordered clam chowder (first mistake) that was mostly cream and potatoes. Lynn opted for a pork roast special that I have to assume no one else in the entire restaurant had ordered because they gave him what seemed like a family-sized portion. I had been craving a steak since the beginning of the summer and decided to order a tenderloin. The steak that came out was so overcooked it could only be described as “gray.” Even though it was actually fairly soft, it was tasteless. Hence, even more sighing on my part.
When I asked our server to take a picture of us that evening, briefly explaining to her that we hadn’t traveled in two years, nor had we been back to Lake George in over 20, she said, “Wow!”
I continued to tell her that I realized after working on a photo project this past summer that I had only found 72 photographs of us as a couple. When I showed her a photograph that was taken shortly after we first met, she said something very odd.
“You’re so small!”
I think she meant to say “young” but somehow “small” became her word of choice. Since Lynn is 5 foot 10 and I’m not much shorter (5 foot 8), I don’t think “small” is the way to describe us. But since we both have a sense of humor, we now like to ask each other in the morning, “How are you feeling?” Obviously, the answer is “I’m feeling small!”
In case anyone is curious. Do we look “small” in either of these photographs?
In the morning, I made the mistake of telling Lynn we would be having breakfast at a “flapjack-type of place” on the drive out of town. He seemed to misinterpret this as a breakfast spot that only serves pancakes. Consequently, I had to show him the menu since he’s really an egg-and-toast kind of guy. We actually had decent ham and cheddar omelets for breakfast and yes, I ordered a side of silver-dollar pancakes. Not only were they yummy, but I was happy they didn’t upcharge me for some real maple syrup to pour on top.
Destination: Lake Winnipesaukee
At some point during the pandemic, I had been getting emails from the Wolfeboro Inn in Wolfeboro, NH, on the above-mentioned lake. We hadn’t been to that part of New Hampshire, and it seemed like it might be scenic and fun. Luckily, there were also a couple of decent restaurants in town, so I thought why not? The hotel had seen better days, but it was also one of the few reasonably priced places to stay in Wolfeboro. Our room on the second floor looked out onto the central air conditioning unit of a lower building, and from what I could tell walking around the grounds, none of the rooms had a lake view. Luckily, dinner that night (not at the hotel) gave me faith that going forward quite a few good meals might be attainable.
Pavillon is a relatively new restaurant in Wolfeboro connected to a luxury boutique hotel. Focused primarily on small plates, we started with corn chowder and homemade parker house rolls. (I never order bread but couldn’t resist trying these.) Spätzle with roasted carrots and peas (shown below) was up next followed by a beet salad with watermelon, jalapeños and pepitas, and a scallop dish with pancetta, pea shoots, pea puree, and slices of peach that I really wanted to like. However, the peaches were tasteless and with a staggering price of over $40, I didn’t expect it to be oversalted. Nevertheless, we ended up getting dessert (a coffee crème brûlée) because I just happened to flip over the “after dinner” drink menu at the end of the evening. Having lived in Munich for nearly a decade, I was astonished to find a German brandy, Asbach Uralt, on the menu. Pours of this “Weinbrand” for a mere $10? I couldn’t resist ordering a glass.
A Gorgeous Day Visiting “Castle in the Clouds”
Wel, it wasn’t really a castle, but it was a very lovely historic house called the Lucknow Estate that was built in 1914 by Thomas and Olive Plant high up on a mountain overlooking Lake Winnipesaukee. Much of the house was inspired by the arts and crafts movement and the house had a couple of interesting pieces of furniture, as well as state-of-the-art appliances for the time. Castle in the Clouds had not been on my “bucket list” but I like to look at maps and find things for us to do rather than just hiking or day-drinking. Plus, I love touring old houses, so this ended up being a worthwhile visit.
There were gorgeous reading nooks, fireplaces, and decorative window trimmings to behold. There was an enormous laundry room with a sink I would like to have and a pipe organ that someone on our tour decided to play. There were skylights and let’s not forget the views! You could look outside a window and see the lake, and since we were truly “in the clouds” on this blue-sky day, the view was stunning. Dare I mention a “needle shower ” in the owner’s bathroom? Apparently, women were “discouraged” from bathing during this time period, but I think being pelted with all the water emanating from those shower heads might have been fun.
Onto Holderness and Squam Lake
After our tour of the house (as well as the basement which we paid extra for just to get an idea of the inner-workings of this luxury estate), we went in search of lunch. A lobster roll to be precise. We hadn’t originally intended to end up near Squam Lake, but I was intrigued by the reviews of Walter’s Basin Restaurant and the outdoor deck.
Here’s our lobster roll! With outstanding onion rings (not greasy!). And yes, when our server asked how it was, I told her it was one of the top FIVE lobster rolls of all time. She actually blushed! We ate our lobster rolls and watched a couple of boats come in and out of the neighboring marina.
Weir’s Beach, Then Dinner
Driving through Meredith (not much to see except a strange waterfall in the middle of town), we headed over to Weir’s Beach. Much of the town (similar to Lake George) had already shut down for the season. Walking through the town, it reminded me a bit of the old Asbury Park without the boardwalk, but a decent promenade with a view of the lake. I detoured a bit just to take a shot of the Weir’s Beach sign. Campy but cool! (I realized they don’t use an ” ‘s ” on their sign so maybe my spelling is incorrect.)
We headed back to Wolfeboro and walked around town a bit only to discover that most of the shops were already closed. We had made a reservation for dinner that night at Wolfetrap, a seafood place near the hotel. When we arrived for dinner at 6:30 (the last reservation we could get since the restaurant closes at 8 p.m.), we were greeted by a grumpy hostess who practically yelled, “Do you even have a reservation?” We assured her we did and waited a few minutes to sit at a large and somewhat uncomfortable wooden table outside on the deck. We had oysters which were described as “local,” but were actually from Prince Edward Island. (Not that local!) Lynn, for reasons known only to Lynn, ordered swordfish tacos that had a few pieces of fish thrown into a soft flour taco. Luckily, I fared better with a decent swordfish steak. The fact that we were back at the hotel by 8:16 pm., with not much to do for the rest of the evening, was uneventful.
Frank Lloyd Wright In Manchester
The Zimmerman house in Manchester, New Hampshire, had been on my radar for a while. Described on the Currier Museum website as “the only art museum in the world with two Frank Lloyd Wright homes,” tour times and tickets are limited with access to the homes only via the museum’s van. I had read about the Isadore and Lucille Zimmerman house (1950) but was surprised to also have a tour (three houses down) of the recently acquired Kalil house. So when we ended up on the van with a bunch of FLW “groupies,” each offering detailed descriptions of other houses they had seen (mostly in Wisconsin), I felt right at home.
Zimmerman was a doctor who lived in Manchester but decided to “downsize” to a ranch. Luckily, he and his wife were fond of Wright’s aesthetic and the world of Usonian architecture. This house was smaller than other Wright houses we had seen, but the signature Wright details were still there – custom-designed furniture, a galley kitchen, and small glass windows. I was also intrigued by the new-fangled appliances of the 1950’s which included a top-loading dishwasher. Since there was no basement in the house, even the furnace was stuck in a corner of what Wright described as a “workspace” rather than a kitchen.
There was also an open living room with one wall assuming the role of “long couch” and a very unique music stand. I think the Zimmerman’s must have had many lovely musical evenings in this room. Wright even designed a unique mailbox for this house which is still there today.
Mildred and Toufic Kalil House
Built in 1955, the house is one of only seven “Usonian” houses Wright designed. I wanted to like this house and appreciated FLW’s built-in furniture, but the house both inside and outside was constructed with concrete blocks. Although we were encouraged by our tour guides to sit down in the living room, the space reminded me too much of drab concrete buildings that sprang up all over post-war Europe. Here’s a few photographs to give you an idea.
Louis Kahn in Exeter and Following the Remnants of Hurricane Lee in Rockport
Apparently, we had once driven by the Louis Kahn library on the campus of Phillips Exter Academy, but I didn’t remember it! This time, with the help of a student, we managed to get inside the building. The Librarian on duty was not particularly amused by our being inside when students were “on campus.” She then proceeded to scold us and said we needed to make an appointment to visit the library. Suddenly, we were told to leave the building, and when I asked to take some photographs, she said “only one.” I decided to ignore her and quickly took over a dozen shots, but I couldn’t get the photograph I wanted. Why? Because there was an art exhibition in the space and someone had placed what looked like a big ball of chewing gum right in the middle of the famous ceiling.
We had time to kill before lunch, so we decided to drive up to Rockport and look at the water. Hurricane Lee had passed through 24 hours prior, so we were hoping to see some big waves. We got them! Along with a photograph of the “most painted building in the world” also known as Motif No. 1. I remembered we had a magnet on our fridge of this red fishing shack, purchased I believe when the town of Rockport was still “dry” (no alcohol sold or served in restaurants!) I’m glad to report this was abolished a few years ago but the fact that it was a law for over 162 years is mind-boggling.
Salem, Again
We had visited Salem two years ago and thought it was well, interesting. This time around it was very crowded, parking was limited, and we seemed to be surrounded by groups of young women dressed in black and wearing pointy witch hats. We went back to have lunch at a place right on the water where dinner had been decent. This time around our lunch was just okay. We walked around town, avoiding most of the touristy “witch-hunt” sites, and went to see the Peabody Essex Museum.
I liked this museum. Lynn thought the floor plan was difficult to read, but we saw a couple of interesting exhibits. It seems I’m always drawn to the gardens wherever I go, and the Peabody Essex provided a lovely outdoor space with an interesting fountain.
Over the years, we’ve stopped staying at Inns, preferring the anonymity of a larger hotel chain. However, all the hotel rooms in Salem were sold out that weekend and only because of a cancelled reservation a few minutes before I tried to book a room online did I find us a room. We didn’t really have to visit Salem again, but I had wanted to try a fairly new restaurant, Settler, that I had been reading about. Thus, we ended up at the Salem Inn, in a decent-sized room in one of their old houses. Breakfast was included in the room rate, but not only did you have to make a reservation for this meal, but also choose what you wanted to eat when you checked in! I found this tremendously annoying but did as requested. (9:30 a.m. – cheese and mushroom omelets, wheat toast, fruit, coffee.)
Dinner at Settler turned out to be the best meal of the trip. The only disappointment was a Martini that was lack-luster, and the excessive mark-up on the wine list. We ate our way through some lovely meze: tuna crudo with thinly sliced radishes; homemade falafel; a cozy dish of lamb merguez which is usually a sausage, but this was transformed into a meatball; house-made spaghetti with spicy clams; and a perfectly cooked halibut. Finally, we finished off the meal with not one but two desserts – a burnt Basque cheesecake with vanilla gelato and a chocolate tart with pistachio gelato. Was it delicious? Absolutely.
Kennebunkport, Maine, and the Atlantic Ocean
Remember we lived on Long Island for over 30 years so stopping to eat some clams and seeing the Atlantic Ocean shouldn’t have been a big deal. Maybe it was just the unusually warm September day. Or the fact that we were looking forward to seeing the beach again. Whatever it was, we stopped for lunch at Bob’s Clam Hut. There we both had a basket of fried clams but truthfully, we could have split one. It was good, but there was just too much food.
After lunch we drove to Kennebunkport. We had driven through the area two years ago on the way to Camden and I remember seeing people shuffling through town because it was so crowded. Luckily, this time the sidewalks were less busy, and when we checked into our motel, the Seaside Inn, we even managed to get upgraded to an oceanfront room.
We walked on the beach and afterwards just sat on our hotel balcony watching a few boats go by and a “ship-ahoy” themed weathervane spin on the top of a cupola. Actually, now that I look at the exterior shot of the Seaside Inn, it reminded me a bit of a place we used to stay at on Hilton Head Island!
I will only briefly mention dinner that night and our reason for being there in the first place. We had a nearly five-year-old gift certificate to the White Barn Inn that we were determined to use. We were the youngest couple at the restaurant and while the menu looked inspiring, the food that came out (regardless of what we ordered) had too much salt or cream or crunchy things. We opted for a cheese plate for dessert and were brought out a dish that looked like something a toddler might have cobbled together after standing on a stool to reach the fridge. To assure my readers that I’m not exaggerating, here it is:
Time to Go Home
Inevitably, it’s time to go home. Even when we were both working, we would try to delay the drive back by seeing one more sight and even having one more lunch. This time we decided to avoid I-95 for a while and travel down Route 1 through the towns of Wells, Oqunquit, and York. Along the way we found a roadside bakery and picked up some croissants. Then we found a road sign pointing us to Nubble Lighthouse. Who doesn’t like to see a lighthouse? Apparently, a lot of other people had the same idea that cloudy, gray day. After a mere 10-minute detour, we were awarded with a picturesque shot of this beauty. You actually can’t get to the lighthouse (it’s on a tiny island), but you do get a lovely view from the parking lot.
We drove home in the rain (and yes, stopped for one last lobster roll), hit annoying traffic until we got to Albany, and already started planning our next road trip.
Until our next “Let’s Go” adventure.
If you missed my new collection of short stories, The Camp People, it’s available on Amazon.
Really, I wanted to title this piece “Do You Miss Times Square on NYE?” Because the two days we spent in Maine were so mobbed with people during the day that I began to question 1) my sanity about traveling there during August, and 2) where exactly did all these people come from? However, once these “day-trippers” left or retired early to their vacation homes or assorted inn/hotel accommodations, the town in question, that would be Camden, was totally dead at night.
I was a bit put off by the quiet, but let me start at the beginning. We hadn’t been to Camden, ME, in 33 years and thought we’d drive to Falmouth, MA, first, then Salem, MA, and head up Route 1. In theory, it was a good idea. We hit a minimal amount of traffic and had a late lunch at the Lobster Trap in Bourne, MA. I looked at the price of a lobster roll ($35!) and decided I would spring for the fresh cod ($14) instead. We had a view, a glass of wine, and the food was good. The lobster roll could wait.
We checked into our hotel in Falmouth that had made a really big deal about the “contactless” service they were offering. This became an annoying point since even 24 hours before our arrival they were bombarding me with text messages. “When will you arrive?” I was asked. Followed by, “please send us a copy of a photo ID (either driver’s license or passport).” I complied but thought it was a bit odd. When we finally got there, I texted them “we’ve arrived,” only to be told to “pick up your keys at the front desk.” So much for not being in contact with anyone!
On the map, the hotel looked like it wasn’t very far from town (15-20 minute walk tops). In reality, it was set in a residential neighborhood with a road I knew would be dark at night with a sidewalk on only one side. Walking into town for dinner I thought could be dangerous.
But first we drove down to the water, parked the car, and walked briefly on the beach. When we drove back through town, people were already eating dinner. It was only 5:30! In fairness, it was Sunday and I realized quite a few of the restaurants close early Sunday night. By the time we had showered and changed and decided where we were eating (a seafood place on the water), it was 7:50 p.m. A relatively normal eating time in our household but apparently very, very late for this part of the country. We had checked the restaurant’s website which said they were open until 9 p.m. When we walked in at the above mentioned hour, the hostess informed us they were closing early tonight, 8 p.m. to be precise, and were not seating any more customers. Lynn and I looked at each other.
“Sushi?” I asked him.
We had seen a sushi place in town and drove quite rapidly, I might add, to get there. Of course, it was packed. Obviously, we didn’t have a reservation. Fifteen minutes later we got a table and while I didn’t expect my first dinner in Cape Cod to be sushi, I thought well, why not?
Since we are pretty adventurous eaters, we didn’t limit ourselves to just sushi. To start we ordered mussels in a spicy red curry sauce with basil and lemon grass, followed by grilled octopus with fingerling potatoes. The octopus was a bit soggy but I appreciated the Jackson Pollock- inspired presentation on the plate. Only after we had devoured these did we move on to the sushi: crunchy tuna and spicy salmon rolls.
By the next morning, we decided we had seen enough of Cape Cod (and realized we had never stayed in Falmouth at all; it had been Hyannis!) and drove to Salem. I thought I remembered Salem. I didn’t. Since we had last visited, the Peabody Essex Museum had been renovated but unfortunately, the day we were visiting, it was closed. We had lunch – a lackluster overpriced lobster roll that I won’t even show here (it’s not worthy) which we ordered only because we had refrained from getting the overpriced lobster roll the day before. (Two lobster rolls and two beers with tax and a generous tip cost us $90.44!)
Besides walking down to the historic maritime area, the real reason for our visit was to see the House of the Seven Gables and the birthplace of Nathaniel Hawthorne. Fun Julie fact: I had never read Hawthorne. Stupid Julie fact: I checked out the novel prior to our visit and couldn’t get through it. That said, I believe we had visited this historic house before but didn’t remember it. Maybe we just did a drive-by?
This time we opted for the self-guided garden tour which also gave us the history of the house after downloading the audio portion, too. Also on the property is the house Nathaniel Hawthorne was born in which was moved to the current site in 1958. Lynn felt the house lost some of its “authenticity” with its relocation. Here are some photos of the house and the beautiful gardens.
Truthfully, I also walked around the house and only counted SIX gables. So, if they lost one along the way, well, good luck finding it! Also in case you don’t know, here’s a fun fact about Hawthorne; he changed his name! Why is that? Because he was so embarrassed that one of his great-great-great-grandfathers (that would be John Hathorne) was one of the judges in the Salem witch trials that he decided to add a ‘w” to his name to lessen any association with this relative.
We decided to forgo buying any “witch” souvenirs or get a “spiritual reading” on the way back to the hotel. We also ignored the individuals hawking nightly “candlelit ghost tours,” preferring to spend our evening eating.
Finz, one of the few restaurants on the Salem waterfront, could have been hit or miss. It was a warm evening and everyone wanted to sit outside. The place was larger than I had anticipated but luckily, unlike other places we’ve encountered this summer, they seemed to have adequate staff.
Oysters to start? Yes, please. A bottle of Hitching Post Pinot Noir to wash it all down? Absolutely! (I won’t go into my utter surprise at seeing this particular bottle of wine on the menu, but if you have read my book, you will know that Sideways is one of my favorite films and this particular wine features prominently in the movie. ) Did I mention we also had a view? As the sun was setting? Of a schooner?
The following morning we drove to Maine. Someone once told me that Maine is like Long Island except Long Island has better bread and Maine has better blueberries. As I’ve mentioned before, we hadn’t been to Camden, Maine, in 33 years. Before i-phones and Instagram, I wrote down where we traveled, sites we visited, and (obviously) what we ate in “composition” books that are nearly the same price now as they were then! I have since gone back to writing this way since I often find that while a photograph will accurately capture a place, my notes tend to convey the spirit of the moment.
I was pregnant with our first child back in July 1988 and here are a few of my observations.
July 25, 1988: “Tried Ben and Jerry’s for the first time! The chocolate was very rich and the chocolate chunks were good.” (Since I still only occasionally eat ice cream but am a purist and dislike ice cream that has “stuff” in it, I can only attribute my pregnant state to the fact that I ordered something with “chunks” in it. )
July 26, 1988: “Drove to town [Camden] after breakfast and it was so foggy you couldn’t see anything. Decided to get back in the car and take Route 1 to Bar Harbor. Along the way we saw one lobster pound after another; many of them had big vats of water boiling that were heated with wood fires. We came back to the [Whitehall] Inn to have an early dinner because dinner hours are short – 6:00-8:30. There are also no TV’s or phones in the rooms. I did see lots of puzzles and games in the “parlor” along with a whole bunch of Edna St. Vincent Millay memorabilia. After dinner though, it seemed like us, people didn’t quite know what to do with themselves – maybe everyone just goes to bed early.”
July 27, 1988:“From Camden we headed up to Quebec. The smell of pine trees and fresh cut lumber was incredible. We saw quite a few lumber trucks carrying enormous logs and every so often a few mills, too. We realized we were running low on gas and wanted to fill up before we crossed the border, so stopped at the first no-name gas station we found. When I asked our gas station attendant (a young high school kid) where we were, he replied, “Jackman, Maine, which is 50 miles from nowhere!” ( Read on about how history repeats itself 33 years later in the pursuit of gasoline.)
Let me talk about Edna first. According to my “sources” (that would be wikipedia), Edna would recite poetry and play the piano at the Whitehall Inn in Camden, Maine, during the summer months. Lucky for her, a wealthy arts patron was so impressed with her talent that she offered to pay for her college education at Vassar! Four words: “Way to go girl!”
While we had in fact stayed at the Whitehall Inn back in 1988, this time there was no availability. In fact, we couldn’t get a hotel room for two consecutive nights in Camden so ended up staying at an inn one night and a hotel the second night. Unlike 1988 though, the weather was perfect – sunny and hot and hazy.
But let me get back to the point before we got to Camden. Before lunch, we went in pursuit of lighthouses. After all, isn’t that what Maine is known for? Besides lobster and blueberries? As previously noted, back in 1988, the fog was so intense there were no lighthouses we could see. This time would be different; we started by visiting Owls Head Lighthouse. The minute we walked up the steps to their gorgeous tower, there was a light breeze and you could smell the sea. Gosh, the view! Just like a postcard!
Afterwards we stopped at Hills Seafood Co. in Rockland, ME, and had really delicious clam chowder and lobster rolls with fries and slaw. While this lunch was just as expensive as the crappy one we had in Salem, the chowder and the lobster roll were both delicious and worth it. (Hint: it turned out to be the best lobster roll of the trip.)
After lunch, the Rockland Breakwater lighthouse beckoned. I had read about this “walk” and thought “no problem.” Still, I wasn’t really prepared for all the big gaps between each of the enormous granite boulders. A sign before one ventured down the nearly two mile “walk” to the “house” at the end indicated one should make sure one was capable of the journey. Also one was admonished that “accidents” happen when one is not paying attention and above all to “look at your feet.” I took that advice seriously. Lynn held my hand, we were careful, walked slowly, and made it safely there and back. I’m really glad we did that walk. And, most importantly, it was fun!
Yes, the “artistic” me did in fact have to capture the green shutters on this lighthouse (which look black in the photo) especially because there’s so much seawater damage to the building and platform it’s on.
And then it felt like it took us forever to get to Camden. Why? Because of the traffic! It took us nearly 15 minutes to simply get from one end of Camden to the other. It reminded me of the awful drive one has to endure on a certain part of Sunrise Highway to get to any of the towns named “Hampton” on the South Fork of Long Island. At least I knew where most of the people who were visiting the Hamptons were from (hint: NYC). But people who were visiting Camden, where did they all come from? (A few years back I caught up with an old Munich friend and he told me he had visited the Hamptons one summer with his family. My only reaction to this was “why?”)
We checked into our inn and were told we were actually not staying there but rather in a house a few blocks away. Lynn and I looked at each other, got back in the car, and simply pulled out into traffic hoping no one would cut us off or rear-end our car. Looking at this insane traffic and all the people in this town, I’m just glad we had actually found a place to stay. (Fun fact: our server for breakfast the next morning informed us that Camden is a small “hamlet” of 4,000 residents year-round. That number apparently quadruples in the summer months. But I’m convinced it had actually octupled the two days we were there! )
Luckily, dinner-wise we had planned ahead. We had reservations both nights at two of the few restaurants in town that were open mid-week. Lunch, however, would became more difficult. I will talk about that later. Our first dinner was at Nathalie’s at the Camden Harbor Inn, a Relais & Chateaux hotel. To say I was impressed would be an understatement. Was it the menu? The service? The lovely amuse bouche? Maybe it was the funky decor? Wait, isn’t that the same Ikea table lamp we have at home except in a different color? Perhaps it was as simple as we hadn’t eaten out this “high end” in 18 months? Where should I start?
How about here: 1. Halibut ceviche. 2. A ring of cold poached shellfish with a bouillabaisse sauce in the middle. 3. Cod on a bed of quinoa and topped with crispy pork belly. 4. Raspberry sorbet “intermezzo” (not shown because I ate it before I remembered to take a picture). 5. Pork tenderloin with mushrooms and greens. And finally, since Lynn and Julie always prefer a cheese plate before the dessert, we did just that. If you are wondering if those are in fact beets on the “chocolate beet cake” with some raspberry sorbet, they are! (Full disclosure: the meal was a lot of money but it was the night before my birthday. I had wanted to stay at the hotel, too, but the rates were, to be honest, outrageous!) I’m just really happy we were privileged enough to eat dinner there and both the food and service were amazing.
Want to see the Ikea light I was talking about? And the Relais & Chateaux plaque? (Also focus on the mountain in the background which we’ll get to later.) I did ask our server if she had an extra Relais & Chateaux pin I could wear during the course of the meal. I started to go into a story about how when you were younger and got on an airplane, the “stewardesses” (yes they were always all women), would come around the cabin and hand out these little gold metal wings if you were a kid. I realized, however, she was very young and unless she had seen something like that in a movie (and remembered it), she had absolutely no idea what I was talking about. I didn’t get the pin but I still had a good time. And yes, the shellfish bouillabaisse was in fact my favorite dish. I mean, look at it; it was beautifully plated and tasted amazing.
We finished dinner and walked back to the Inn. How about a walk through town? How about a nightcap? Ha, Ha, Ha. Turns out like many resort towns we’ve been to, this one closes up at night. There wasn’t a bar or pub that was open. There were no cars or even people on the street! Seems that even 33 years later, (at least at night) not much has changed.
In the morning we checked out of the Inn and attempted to do some hiking. I specifically say “attempt” because once again I got sidetracked by people writing reviews of how “easy” the trail was to walk. But yet, when we got to the Maiden Cliff Trailhead, it proved too steep for my comfort level. We walked nearly half the way but found the roots were just insane. I mean, really, look at them!
I was more than happy when I saw a few signs that had been stapled to a couple of trees indicating that the trail ahead had eroded. This enabled me in good conscience to turn around. After all it was time for lunch!
I need to divert a bit and talk about the state of the restaurant industry. I read daily about the struggle to find workers and how to cope with the enormous demands “guests” are putting on these restaurants. I’ve seen restaurants post on social media that they can’t open because they are short-staffed, employees haven’t shown up, or worse, they’ve quit all together. But more and more I also read about guests who are hostile to those working in the industry. This saddens me deeply.
Case in point: in Camden, Maine, there is one particular restaurant that is on the water. We tried to go there for lunch only to hear the hostess say over and over again that the wait was 2+ hours and a table outside couldn’t be guaranteed. There were a lot of angry people raising their voices at this poor woman, yelling that they had a reservation, why weren’t they seated, and they had already been waiting nearly 45 minutes! I also noted that the parties who had been able to snag a coveted table didn’t have a single plate of food in front of them. I felt sorry for the staff but more importantly angry at the customers who hadn’t thought of a plan B.
We always have a plan B. We got in the car, drove six miles up the coast, and found a local lobster place. We ordered half a dozen oysters to start that were so large I almost thought we were on the Pacific not the Atlantic coast! Two lobster rolls, some onion rings, and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc rounded out our lunch. It wasn’t the best lobster roll we had on the trip (which I’ve already revealed) but it came in a close second.) Plus, we were right on the water! And the lobsters we had just eaten were in the “holding” cages right in front of us.
Did I mention we realized half way to our Plan B that we were almost out of gas? Just like 33 years ago, we found a no-name gas station about eight miles away after eating lunch before heading back to Camden. But wait, first there was a state park that was demanding our attention. You could drive rather than hike up to the top of Mount Battie?
Isn’t the view of Penobscot Bay pretty? And there’s even a tower you can climb to truly feel “on top of the world.” And then I realized the night we had eaten at Natalie’s, we had been staring at Mount Battie all along!
And then, on the drive down Mount Battie, Lynn said, “Look, an owl!” I pulled over to the side of the road and proceeded to take about 100 pictures of this lovely animal. He/she was a bit shy but luckily, I got the shot I wanted. And, yes, I had never seen an owl before which is why I’m posting this picture three times!
After the adventures of our wonderful day and checking into the second hotel of our stay (run-of-the-mill with no amenities or staff) – a sign of the the future perhaps – we went to Franny’s for dinner. A first for us: a sign outside the restaurant saying “we are fully booked and even if you want to sit at the bar, a reservation was required.” I felt a tinge of guilt as I saw many couples approach the restaurant, look at the sign, shake their heads and walk away.
The restaurant is in a residential neighborhood in Camden, so your view (especially when sitting outside like we were) is limited to looking at houses across the street. It didn’t bother us though since our attention was on the food! Shrimp dumplings with a cucumber slaw; mussels in a cream and mushroom sauce; swordfish with grilled peaches and a yogurt drizzle; lamb chops with salsa verde, and finally, a delicious almond cake with strawberries and cream for dessert. After all this food, we walked around Camden, found a waterfall, but got a bit spooked that the town was so dark and deserted!
On our drive home from Maine, we decided it had been a good trip and resolved to come back in the fall when it will hopefully be less crowded. And I did in fact stop at a roadside stand to pick up some fresh blueberries. These, with the help of Marisa McClellan’s wonderful cookbook, Food in Jars, became my first attempt at making blueberry jam. I have to say, it turned out pretty darn good.
Sooner or later we would have to start traveling again, right? We were both vaccinated and Lynn had finally recovered from his surgery long enough to sit in a car without me feeling like I was punishing him! So off we went!
We decided to start off small. Literally, stay someplace for one night; first of all to see if we felt comfortable staying in a hotel and eating INSIDE a restaurant. Plus, we had a list of state parks to visit thinking maybe we could squeeze in a hike or two. And, of course, there were a ton of wineries along the way that needed our attention.
We pulled onto the NY State Thruway ramp and two hours later stopped in Seneca Falls to have brunch at one of the few restaurants (84 Fall) that was open on a Sunday. We walked inside and they were packed! “Did we have a reservation?” the hostess asked us. We did not. She offered to seat us at the bar. The bar? We hadn’t sat at a bar in 18 months! “The bar would be perfect, ” I said.
I was so happy to be out again, sitting at a bar, having a drink, that I even ordered a Mimosa! Now people who know me know I detest Mimosas. One should not mix orange juice with champagne (or in this case sparkling wine) under any circumstances. But I figured I had to order one since it was “brunch,” and the drinks were only 99 cents a piece! I drank it; I didn’t gag, it was actually okay. Perhaps my taste buds had changed in the last year and a half?
My brunch entrée – sunnyside up eggs on a mound of “Utica Greens” was spicy and delicious. If you don’t know what “Utica Greens” are, it’s escarole that’s been cooked (usually boiled first then sautéed), and made “spicy” with peppers, maybe some bacon or pancetta, garlic (of course), and lots of grated Parmesan. I have only had this dish a few times in the last 11 years we’ve been up here and I have to say 84 Fall’s version was delicious. I mean, doesn’t this look really good?
After brunch, we drove to Seneca Lake. I need to share how wine tastings in this part of the world happened in the “early” days. You would simply show up at a winery, tastings were often free, and most times you simply stood at a makeshift table or counter to sample their wines. Now we are finding that more and more wineries are asking you to reserve a tasting in advance; you are seated at a table and given a tasting “menu.” It’s a much longer, but not necessarily enjoyable experience, especially if you realize very quickly that you don’t particularly like the wine they are pouring. Most of the time I think the view is really what you’re paying for. I mean, who doesn’t like to look at a beautiful lake or vineyards with grapes dripping off the vines?
We started by visiting Standing Stone, followed by Billsboro, and enjoyed both of their wines immensely. Then we checked into a cheap hotel (really, it was $105!) Which leads me to wonder why I always spent so much money on “Relais & Châteaux” wannabes! We had stayed at this particular Microtel in Geneva, NY, before, specifically to eat at Kindred Fare. In the old days (i.e., pre-COVID), given that it was a Sunday night, the place might have been half empty. Apparently, like us, everyone was “catching up” on all the dining out they had missed since nearly every table was taken both inside and outside of this establishment. Since we were last there, they had done away with the “chefs counter,” so we shared a long table with a three-top. Calamari and crispy chick peas with pickled onions to start? Yes, please!
In the morning, we headed to Letchworth State Park. It had been on my list of parks to visit for a while and I was anxious to see what all the fuss was about. Called the “Grand Canyon of the East,” I had seen pictures of the falls but didn’t really understand the enormity of all that rushing water.
First of all, the park is much bigger than I anticipated – 66 miles of hiking trails according to the NY State Park website. Luckily, there are many areas to pull over when driving through the park, so you have ample opportunity to see the cliffs and rock formations and take lots of photographs! We hiked the most difficult trail first (up and down what seemed like 1,000 stairs), and then drove a bit, parked, and just walked on a paved walkway to see the other two falls.
After all that hiking, we decided to have lunch. Who knew there was a full-service restaurant within the park? We went into the Glen Iris Inn and luckily they had a table outside for us. However, when we walked through the somewhat dismal-looking dining room, I looked at Lynn and gave him my “something is wrong here” look. When we reached our table I asked him, “Notice anything unusual walking through the dining room?”
He looked at me. I wasn’t going to wait for his response.
“No one had ANY food on their table,” I said.
We decided to order sandwiches. Luckily, for us, 10 minutes later, we both had decent turkey clubs and a couple bottles of Perrier. In any case, our lunch was perfectly fine and I thought the Inn looked pretty. After lunch, we walked over to the William Pryor Letchworth Museum and learned all about Mr. Letchworth’s life and his philanthropic efforts. Then we got back in the car and drove home.
By the next day, I had already started planning another getaway. Perhaps instead of just one night we could stay two and try the wineries we had missed? Maybe we could even venture up to both Lake Erie and Lake Ontario? Two Great Lakes in one day? (Yes, in fact, in that part of New York State between Buffalo and Niagara Falls, it’s totally doable. )
A Three Day Trip
We planned to start out the morning by hiking some trails in Clark Reservation State Park. Want to hear the stupid part of the story first? At the height of COVID last year, we went to quite a few state parks (even in the snow) just to get outside and thus, discovered we liked walking and hiking the trails. Prior to the current summer season, we decided to renew our Empire Pass, which for a low annual fee, gets you into all the NY State Parks for free. This particular park had a parking meter that lets you scan your Empire Pass. Once that’s done, the machine spits out a parking ticket with instructions to display it on the dash of your vehicle. I grabbed the ticket and turned around so quickly that I didn’t remember the very low fence that divided the parking lot from the meter. Which is how I lost my balance and tripped over the fence! Yes, I did in fact land right on my elbow and the wrist that I broke six years ago.
Lynn’s reaction: “what are you doing?” was actually pretty amusing. What did it look like I was doing? ( Let me note: I did not cry although I really do like crying and feel it is perfectly acceptable behavior under certain circumstances.) Lynn then started to fuss over me and talk so much (he’s not a talker) that I just had to tell him to be quiet. My concern was: did I break anything? (I didn’t think I did because I wasn’t really in excruciating pain and I remembered how bad my wrist hurt the last time I broke it.) Most disconcerting, however, there seemed to be quite a bit of blood oozing all over my shorts and dripping from my elbow. Luckily, we had packages of baby wipes in the car which Lynn kept handing to me and I rummaged around in our luggage and found some bandages, too! After sitting on the ground for a good 10 minutes while patting the “evil fence” I had tripped over, I got up, dusted myself off, bandaged my elbow (and my ankle, too, which was also bleeding), and then we started to walk.
After that dismal beginning, I was hoping for a more tranquil hike, but there were lots of rocks to climb over and portions of the trail were more than I wanted to deal with at that given moment. See what I mean with all these craters and cliffs we had to tackle?
We decided to cut our hike short and grab some lunch. Ever hear about The Inns of Aurora? In the town of Aurora? Neither had we. Apparently, this is a collection of old homes in the same town that were purchased and renovated by the founder of the “American Girl” doll stores and made into luxury boutique hotels. With most rooms ranging from $352 to $605 a night (yikes!), we weren’t staying there. We did have a decent lunch though at 1833 Kitchen & Bar inside the Aurora Inn which had a nice view of Cayuga Lake.
Then we got down to business: JR Dill Winery on Seneca Lake poured us some lovely reds that afternoon and gave us some pretty interesting “sculpture” to admire. Unfortunately, it was after 5 p.m., and with most wineries closing at that hour, we ran out of time to visit any others.
We stayed in Penn Yan for the evening and after a decent dinner at Union Block Italian Bistro (pasta, clams, wine, no dessert), we walked part of the Keuka Lake Outlet Trail. The trail view gave me this strange feeling that I was in Europe. I mean, look at this, doesn’t it look a bit like Amsterdam? Especially with the boat?
Burnt Rose Wine Bar
We walked back through town and were approached on the sidewalk by a friendly server who was standing outside a new wine bar that had just opened last week. “Would we like to come inside?” he inquired. Who could resist a new wine bar? Not I!
“Burnt Rose Wine Bar” is the new kid in town under owner Rose Curry and her chef-partner, Chet. She has curated an interesting wine list along with some small plates that I think will work beautifully in this area. Did I mention they also had someone playing piano that night which really gave the wine bar the European feel that I love? Alas, we had just finished dinner (as I mentioned), but I’m always up for another glass of wine! If you are visiting Penn Yan, you should definitely check them out.
In the morning, our continental hotel breakfast was waiting for us. Now, listen up, just because it’s “free” doesn’t mean you have to eat it! Lynn doesn’t eat cereal – ever. Why would he eat it on “vacation?” We found a local bakery, grabbed a couple of chocolate croissants and coffee, and hit the road.
Onto Our Next Stop
We managed a quick walk around Knox Farm State Park in East Aurora and thought we had enough time to have lunch before a scheduled 2 p.m. tour of the Roycroft Campus in the same town. The first restaurant we tried told us there would be a half-hour wait for a table. We kept walking, then decided to go back to the restaurant across the street from Roycroft. This restaurant was packed too, but they “found” a spot for us – a table that was crammed into an awkward corner with a view of a dirty brick wall. I asked our server whether a cold sandwich or salad could be delivered in 30 minutes (or less) to meet our tour appointment, and if not, to please let us know, and we would go someplace else. Said server never came back so after another 10 minutes of stupid indecision on our part, we walked back to a gas station we had seen that was serving this:
Yes, “Beef on a Weck!” Now, don’t even begin to think that I had lost my mind! Julie and Lynn eating at a gas station? (We’ve had many good meals at various “Autostradas” while driving through Italy. This was not such a place. ) However, it was actually a separate “establishment” inside the gas station. The woman behind the counter sliced the roast beef to order, then added a generous dollop of spicy horseradish, and a crunchy pickle on the side. We took the sandwiches back to the car and ate them in five minutes with a few minutes to spare before our tour started. And, really, I think not only was this a cheaper lunch ($7.99 for each sandwich) but probably WAY better than anything we would have eaten at either of those two restaurants.
P.S. If you don’t know what a “weck” is, it’s kind of like a Kaiser roll (but softer) with some Kosher salt and caraway seeds sprinkled on top.
The Roycroft Campus and Elbert Hubbard
I knew nothing about this collection of buildings or Mr. Hubbard. Now I do. Founded in 1897, Elbert (after working as a traveling salesman for the Larkin Soap Factory in Buffalo, NY), decided he wanted to become a writer and printer instead. So what did he do? He traveled to England to visit the British textile designer William Morris who was also a key figure in starting the arts and crafts movement. Most of the buildings on the “campus” Elbert built are still there and if you are a history and/or an arts and crafts aficionado, I think the tour and the museum are worth a visit.
Fun fact: I did not know that the word “chapel” (which one normally associates with a small church) actually derives from the medieval term for a “guild hall for printers.” Consequently, back then a “chapel” structure had no religious connotation at all. And the Roycroft symbol (shown below), was a copy of a symbol that medieval monks used to mark the end of their manuscripts. Elbert went one step further by putting an “R” on his publications; thereby, identifying manuscripts that were printed by the Roycroft Press. And, did anyone ever notice the “design” on an Oreo? Neither had I until this was pointed out to us on the tour.
Sad fact: Elbert Hubbard and his second wife, Alice, while traveling abroad, both died on the Lusitania off the coast of Kinsale, Ireland, after it was sunk by a German U-boat. (We’ve been to Kinsale and I don’t think I knew that the ship went down near there.)
We both enjoyed this highly educational visit and after our tour, we had one more waterfall on the agenda to visit. This one came with a twist – fire!
Eternal Flame Falls
I was prepared this time. There was no parking meter to pay, no fence to trip over. I changed into a sturdier pair of sneakers and even took out my hiking poles. The start of the trail started out flat and easy. What I wasn’t prepared for (again) were the rocks, tree roots, and having to descend into the slate creek bed itself which was only partially dry. Lynn held my hand (as he always does) when I come to the realization that some of the climbs we do are just too steep for my comfort level. (For some reason, I rarely have any problem climbing up; it’s just the slippery paths one has to climb down that make me tremble.) About 30 minutes after we began our descent (and after climbing over multiple fallen trees), we reached the “eternal flame.” The actual waterfall is pretty, but small, and yes, there is the smell of gas once you reach the flame.
And then we walked back to the car and drove towards Hamburg. Our destination after a quick shower at a cheap hotel (Comfort Inn $92/night!) was Lucia’s on the Lake. We had been there two years before and were wowed by both the food and the view of Lake Erie. Neither disappointed the second time around although management was blasting music that was in poor taste. (Eighties disco? Really?) We had oysters, lobster and scallop ravioli, a pear and arugula salad, halibut, and even a peach cobbler for dessert! The only let down was the lackluster wine list with nary a single Finger Lakes or Niagara Escarpment winery represented.
Doesn’t this just look yummy? Even so, I didn’t feel guilty after eating all this delicious food knowing the “steps” I had logged that day.
In the morning we continued. We drove up to Buffalo, towards Niagara Falls, waved to the Canadians on the other side of the Peace Bridge (figuratively, of course), and went to see Old Fort Niagara.
Located inside Fort Niagara State Park (but operated by a non-for-profit so there is an admission fee), there is a lot of history and beautiful sights to take in. The main focus is the “French Castle.” Not only is it the oldest building on the Great Lakes, but it survived the French and Indian War, the American Revolution, and the War of 1812! If you are traveling up to see any part of the Niagara region or even the Falls, I highly recommend a stop at this historical treasure.
Yes, I took about a zillion pictures of this place! If you look closely at the stained glass window, you will see two tiny sailboats on Lake Ontario! I have to assume my enthusiasm for this particular venue was because we hadn’t traveled since March 2020! Finally after visiting the fort, there were two more stops we had to make before we drove home later that day.
Chateau Niagara WineryAnd Lunch
Jim and Kathy Baker are the owners and winemakers of Chateau Niagara. Actually, my first impression of their low key tasting room (especially since there was no indication that they were open) was that one of them (or perhaps both) had to work a second job since there was a white stretch limo parked out front! Luckily, I was wrong. (Why, I thought this and not the obvious “bridal or birthday party outing” I have no idea.)
To say I was super impressed with all the wine we sampled that afternoon would be an understatement. Jim and Kathy make a bevy of French style wines as well as some interesting blends made with East European grapes. Their lineup includes: Pinot Noir, Cabernet Franc, Riesling, Chardonnay, Gewürztraminer as well as a delightful Saperavi and two blends (Trinity and Bulls Blood) that I thought were true palate pleasers. Jim also tried to explain to me a new wine he had crafted called “A La Mode” which you might think should be an ice cream topper or at the very least a dessert wine. “A La Mode” is a wine that has a pale yellow hue to it and consequently, looks like it should taste like a white wine. Wrong, it’s a wine that tastes like a red!
(Jim, if you are reading this, please roll your eyes; first at my crazy idea that you had to drive a limo because no one visited your winery. Now, bang your head against one of your wine barrels (but don’t hurt yourself) because I can’t even explain your delicious “A La Mode” wine to my readers or myself.)
Anyway, after spending nearly an hour with Jim and Kathy and their dog Fionn, we walked out with a wine club membership and a case of wine. I’d say that was a successful visit! And then we went to have lunch.
Have you ever been to the town of Medina? Have you ever even heard of the town of Medina? Neither had we! I’m not sure what’s going on in that town but there were people walking around on the streets! (If you live way upstate like I do, joking aside, sometimes it’s pretty unusual to actually see humans!) And, guess what, they have not one but two luxury boutique hotels! They also have a couple of restaurants, one of them being Zambistro that offered us lunch at their rooftop bar/restaurant with a narrow view of the Erie Canal.
We had grilled chicken panini with homemade potato chips which were decent. But what caught my interest on the dessert menu were “French cream puffs.” Did they actually mean “profiteroles?” Maybe it was the “a la mode” I had just tried at Chateau Niagara that made me think of ice cream. Or maybe, it was the fact that it was 4 p.m., we had just finished lunch and still had a 3.5 hour drive home. There are many desserts I can resist- profiteroles are not one of them. Full disclosure: they weren’t the worst profiteroles I’ve eaten, the ice cream was okay and the “stacking” was impressive. However, the type of chocolate used seemed to be an afterthought. And since I don’t particularly like milk chocolate, I had to deduct some stars for the execution of this dish.
And then we drove home. Next month, we will be traveling for a full five days to a more populated area (Cape Cod and Maine). We hope those who are traveling there as well will be kind to the people who are taking care of them on their journey. The hand written sign I found taped to a door on this current trip, I think sums it up perfectly. Ditto for Elbert Hubbard’s words which I think are still appropriate to this day.
I didn’t want the dream to end. I was in Europe staring at pastries behind a glass window. However, each pastry, unlike the scrumptious eclairs shown below, was placed apart from each other (a good six inches I would guess) with a number in front of it.
I gathered one had to order the desired pastry by number only and then sit down in chairs that were lined up as if one were in the waiting room of a doctor’s office rather than a beautiful cafe. Was this a pandemic-related dream? The six inches (or six feet in real life) seemed plausible. And sitting in a doctor’s office (or at least wanting to) nibbling a sweet treat seemed to be entirely credible given the last eight weeks.
Lynn had hernia surgery in the beginning of May. It was supposed to be a routine outpatient procedure with little post-op complications. Except no one could be there with him. He would have to be dropped off at the hospital and I would have to wait for a phone call from the surgeon. What’s this have to do with deer you ask? (Note the title of this essay.) Nothing, except that up until this weekend, they were always pretty well behaved on our property.
Lynn had delayed having the surgery because he wasn’t in any pain. Plus, once we had started the ball rolling on this semi-elective “event,” we were told the procedure had to be postponed until a surgeon was available and everyone was vaccinated! We were okay with that. After all we have known each other a very long time (42 years actually) and agree on the important stuff. Besides, we love just being by ourselves. We also love cooking and growing our own food. We did hope, however, that the hernia (derived from the Latin word “rupture”) wouldn’t do just that before the operation was scheduled.
He was not good with anesthesia, albeit the last surgery he had was 28 years ago. He had been running through Penn Station trying to catch a Long Island Railroad train to get home to me. But he slipped, missed a step on the stairs to the platform, and fractured his ankle. Did he miss me that much to justify sprinting for the train? Perhaps. But in actuality, I was on bed rest for a pregnancy that could go bad at any given moment. He wanted to get home as soon as he could for both of us; everyone was on edge.
So, he, going into this new surgery, which had been delayed because of COVID, made us uneasy. Could I tell him I was more scared than nervous?
He wouldn’t wear a coat on the day of the procedure. “More stuff to carry,” he said. “Wear casual clothes” they told him. After being home since March 2020 what else was there to wear except sweatpants and a t-shirt?
“At least take a phone charger,” I said to him.
“No,” he countered.
I dropped him off at the hospital early (6:45 AM) but as mentioned, couldn’t go inside. He went in on his own and it reminded me of the first day we sent our son to preschool many years ago. Neither of them ever looked back at me or even waved.
I drove home and stared out our kitchen window. We have a lot of property and woods so I waited for our “resident” deer to come down the hill to give me a sign that everything would be okay. But they just walked right up to their usual spot – eating the grass and a dandelion or two for good measure. Thinking back on them now, I’m quite happy with their restraint.
They say most couples don’t talk about sex, death and money. Pretty funny since we talk about all three of those “taboo” topics frequently – sex and money more than death. Should death be at the top of my list to think about today, though?
I tried to read but since we had been up most of the night worrying about the outcome, my eyes refused to focus. I walked the rooms in our very large house and felt the quiet. Was I prepared for him not to return? I wasn’t. But knew instantly how it would feel if he didn’t come home. I summoned up an old metaphor thinking that the “silence was deafening.” I wanted to shout, “Yes, it is!”
I busied myself, texting our children, not revealing my fear. And then the doctor called. “He did okay,” he said. “Sorry there was a delay.” Turns out, this surgeon had not one but a few emergencies to deal with that Monday morning. I compared it to waiting on the tarmac at JFK. One is anxious for the flight to be airborne, for the trip or vacation to commence. Or, in this case, for the operation to be successfully completed and most importantly, for the patient to have a “smooth landing.”
I’m not religious and I don’t pray but I did look at the “bamboo” on our property which a local chef told me was actually Japanese knotweed. Their sturdy brown and green stalks were pushing through the soil up towards the sky. The chef told me that “their tender shoots are edible.” Suddenly, I, too, felt I was living up to a particular word that the New York Times had written about in describing certain feelings one has encountered in the past year. The word is “languishing,” which made me think; instead of my current state of inactivity, perhaps I should be outside chopping up some stalks and then brewing them into some sort of medicinal beverage to help him recover?
Finally, 12 hours later, I drove back to the hospital to pick him up. He was wheeled out in a wheelchair and looked even grayer than the t-shirt he was wearing. I helped him into the car and reached over to fasten his seat belt. I realized it was exactly the same way I used to buckle in our children when they were young.
“My phone is almost dead,” he said.
I didn’t want to say, “I told you so,” followed by “why didn’t you take the charger?”
Since then, he has been recovering slowly. No pain, but swelling was the primary culprit. He, who has always been the “lifter” of things in our relationship – whether it be bags of topsoil for our never ending gardening adventures or more and more lumber and moulding for house repairs – suddenly stopped lifting.
I would “grow” muscles I thought! I’d wheel out trash cans, carry out recycling bins, lawn furniture and even table saws! (Yes, we do in fact, have multiple saws.) Luckily, the deer decided not to invade our garden until he had healed sufficiently enough to help me try and remedy the problem.
If you recall my last post, I wrote fondly of the new fence we were planning to install because our old one was not only falling apart, but it was rusting and ugly. What we didn’t take into account when putting up our nicer, albeit shorter fence, was that deer can jump quite high to feast on whatever they think is tasty in your average vegetable garden.
We have lived in the Red House for 11 years and this is the first time we had deer be so bold. Around 8:45 on Friday night, we were alerted by a neighbor that a deer was in our garden. It was too dark by then to see what was consumed but in the morning we assessed the damage. Most of the tomato plants were gone, broccoli and Swiss chard, too. A rose bush that our daughter gave us a few years ago (and had a plethora of red roses blooming) was eaten down to the bottom. Ditto for the daylilies and the Stella d’Oro’s.
The lettuce was left mostly intact as were our peas and beans and anything that was squash-related. To say we were furious is an understatement. We decided we had to make our “pretty” fence ugly again by making it higher.
This is the fence that the deer could easily jump over.
And here’s the deer walking around the back of our driveway “pretending” she doesn’t see all the goodness growing inside the garden gate!
But first I went back to the farm down the road in hopes that there would be some vegetables to purchase. I was in luck when not only were there vegetables left but now everything was half price! So for $24, I managed to get new tomato plants, more broccoli, lettuce and Swiss chard. And I bought some Hungarian wax peppers to plant, too. And since I was not particularly confident we would pull off recreating the wheel (I mean fence), I bought some tomato plants that just needed to be replanted into bigger containers that I could grow on the deck.
When I got home, we hauled out the old fence we had unceremoniously rolled up, tying the rolls closed with duct tape. We thought maybe we could just unroll all the old stuff and attach it to the new fence. Our goal was to achieve some height. I mean, really, how high can a deer jump? According to at least four videos we watched, apparently six feet is the magic number. So, we had to make sure the “new” but soon-to-be-ugly fence was higher than that.
And then there was soap. In the past, we, too, had wasted money on bottles of deer “repellent,” dried blood in various forms, and other useless products we were sucked into buying.
Anything that has a powerful “scent” we were told would also aid in keeping them away. So after the greenhouse, I stopped at the supermarket and bought three bars of Irish Spring. Lynn cut them into thirds, drilled a hole in them, and hung them around the “key” areas of the garden.
At this point, for the first time ever, I really started to rethink the garden. After all, we support many local farmers in the area and there are numerous Amish farms within a five minute drive of our house. Couldn’t we just buy ALL our produce from them this summer? There is, however, a certain satisfaction to growing your own food and making something that’s edible and healthy. Plus, what would I write about and photograph if I didn’t have that one perfect tomato or zucchini or celery to brag about?
This, unfortunately, is how we had to add height. Attaching the old fence to the top of the new fence with some wire.
And then we realized we didn’t have enough “old” fence to finish the project. Why that is I don’t know since the dimensions of the new fence and the old fence were basically the same. Which is why at 5 p.m. we got in the car and made the trip to the big box store to look at our fencing options. This item, like lumber, had gone up in price as well. $72 later we headed home with a roll of fencing and finished the job nearly eight hours after we had started it.
My arms were scratched (and bleeding) from constantly hitting a thorny raspberry bush that I kept bumping into as we tried to unwrap the new fence. Why the deer don’t eat these berries is a mystery but they don’t. One of my legs was also dripping with blood since the sharp end of the fence roll kept hitting my leg as Lynn kept trying to measure (and cut) each section we needed. Besides all this, we were also hot, tired and sunburned.
When we were done that evening and I went back into the kitchen, I remembered when he finally came home from surgery that day. He hadn’t eaten in over 24 hours and was hungry! I had planned ahead. There was bread from the bakery, chicken cutlets, salad, even a Guinness-spiked pot roast! He wanted something “simple” so I quickly made him our “jet lag” dish – a ham and cheese omelet with fresh chives from our garden.
“Drink some water,” I implored him as I, myself, sipped a glass of wine, sorry he couldn’t join me.
I started to clean up the kitchen and begged him to sit down but he just wanted to stand and watch me. Apparently, when he was coming out of the anesthesia, he thought the attending female nurse was me and started to stroke her hair. I laughed and was humbled by that innocent, affectionate gesture. And then right before we turned the kitchen lights off, he looked at the stove and said, “you put the burners on the wrong way.”
And that’s why as long as I’m living in the Red House, I will never give up my garden. Even if everything I’m eating tastes a little bit like Irish Spring.
Normally by this time of the year we would be planning a summer vacation and perhaps even a fall trip. However, since we, like the rest of the world, have been sheltering in place and avoiding people like the plague – oh wait, COVID is very much like a plague, our planning sessions are only in our “Dreams.”
While I do like the Irish band, The Cranberries, who perform that song so beautifully, we are extremely fortunate to have very green fields behind our Red House. This, luckily, reminds me of Ireland without having to travel there.
However, as everyone knows, being an “armchair traveler” as well as watching as many travel shows as possible (including StanleyTucci’s show “Searching for Italy” which nearly had me weeping), still doesn’t fill the void of not being able to travel. I miss the thrill of getting on a plane or in a car and having a new adventure. I miss seeing new buildings, visiting museums and above all trying different food!
I have overcompensated for this lack of travel by cooking and baking. Homemade gravlax with some chopped red onions, dill and capers? Yes, please! How about a Yukon Gold potato and goat cheese tart in a puff pastry crust? Absolutely!
I spent most of March promoting my new book, Get In The Car: A Food and Travel Memoir. This entailed pouring through old CD’s, revisiting photo albums and searching through my iCloud account for photographs I could use to advertise the book. The challenge was to find the one or two photographs that would accurately portray what the book was about. More often than not, I simply couldn’t decide which photograph to use so would post a few of the ones I thought worked best on social media.
Besides photographs, we also have a lot of great posters that Lynn and I have collected on our many travels. Promoting the chapter about Vienna, all I needed was to take a photograph of the detailed drawing of the “Post Sparkasse” that is hanging in my dining room. And if you are thinking about Paris, so am I. And London and Venice, too! (You know it’s gotten pretty bad when “House Hunters International” becomes your favorite show to watch on TV. )
By the way, all of these photographs were shot by me. I find looking at photographs (and being a decent photographer) helps me when I’m writing. Not only can I visualize the scene I want to put my characters in, but it helps them interact and “talk” to each other. I’m particularly fond of the night shot I managed to capture of the Eiffel Tower on one of our trips to Paris.
If you look at it closely though, the area seems pretty desolate. Lynn and I had just finished dinner and were attracted by the lights of the Tower so we walked towards it. We ended up in a neighborhood we weren’t that familiar with and since two out of the three times we’ve been to Paris there has been a bombing (1986 and 2017 but not 2003), we quickly walked away. Since Paris is still in “lockdown” until the end of the month, I can only assume that these days much of Paris looks like the scene above.
But gearing up for spring, attention must be paid to the garden and specifically the fence. Back in 2010, we put up what we thought would be a temporary enclosure with the assistance of my father. He claimed since he was a “helper” and most importantly, definitely not the “handy type,” that surely the garden fence should have been on the “National Register of Historic Places.” I actually thought that was pretty funny!
Not so funny though is 11 years later, how truly awful the fence looks. Constructed originally just to keep the deer and the rabbits from eating our vegetables and flowers, I’m amazed it actually didn’t fall down (in spite of Dad’s help) because of our very cold and snowy winters.
Here’s what this “beauty” looks like today- rusted gate hinges and all.
Hiring someone to install a new fence wasn’t even a conversation Lynn and I had. We thought we’d order some of that “no dig” fencing, get a really strong rubber mallet, pound it into the ground and hope it would work. We also hoped it would last as long, if not longer, than the first one.
Of course we gave ourselves a “deadline” to do this project. We have about four weeks or so not only to get the garden into shape (weeding, pruning, raking, etc.), but also get all the vegetables and herbs I had purchased from a CSA farm share I bought in January planted.
To take my mind off all this work and to try out a new kitchen “toy” I had purchased earlier in the year (but never used), I decided to take my dehydrator out for a “test run.” This came about because I love chives, especially dried ones. I found myself getting angrier and angrier every time I had to shell out $5 (or more) on a small bottle of chives just so that I could have scrambled eggs with chives! It must be a European thing, I know, but it just makes a potentially shitty day so much better if you at least have the illusion of a “fancy” breakfast in the morning.
These gorgeous goldenrod-colored eggs are from one of my favorite farmers – Jones Family Farm. We’ve known Peter and Suzie Jones since we bought the house and I’m so honored to be able to not only purchase healthy food from them but am humbled by their back-breaking work.
But first, the barrel that the chives had been growing in for probably 20 years before we got here finally collapsed and we had to get a new one. After much heavy lifting, more splinters in our hands that we care to mention, plus the fact that the new bucket had a “Jack Daniel’s” sticker stapled on the side, should have given me a hint. Yes, the wood did in fact smell like whiskey! Would my chives become whiskey-laced, too? (The answer to that is no.)
I thought for sure when we replanted the chives into their new “home” that they would rebel. Would they “kick the bucket” by dying? (They didn’t, they cooperated.) Which is why even a mere two weeks after lifting up the entire chive “hedge” (really it was so heavy it looked like it was a small hedge) and dumping it into its new Jack Daniel’s “digs,” it began to grow profusely.
So a few days ago I decided to read the manual for the dehydrator not realizing that I would need between six to ten hours to “dry” said chives before they could be properly stored. (Don’t you just hate when you read a recipe and realize whatever you are thinking of making is going to take you 2-3 days?) I actually didn’t think it would work. And now I also know why dried herbs cost so much! The drying time alone has got to be a money loser. Here’s my new toy and the progression of the drying process. As you can see, two large racks in the dehydrator yielded less than half of a small glass jar when all was said and done.
I will definitely cut the chives smaller next time and experiment a bit with drying other herbs, too. But since I have an abundance of chives and time, I relish not having to spend money on herbs I can dry myself.
Meanwhile, it’s been raining so our fence installation project is on hold. I did manage to rake up some dead grass and leaves as well as the remains of last year’s various vegetables. And I am very happy to see the tulips that I planted in a variety of colors are blooming!
I needed a lunch break after all this activity and when I looked outside, who did I see but Mr. Bunny! I’m actually not sure if he is a boy or girl bunny but I like to call “it” Mister just for fun. And where is he sitting? Right in front of the fence gate we are about to remove and replace. I will mention that Mr. Bunny seems to be a lot fatter than he was last year. And his little nose was pointing in the direction of the part of the garden he particularly likes to try and get into – where lots of good things to eat like lettuce and broccoli and sometimes, carrots, too, will be planted.
I tried to photograph him but he is very quick to run away. And like many rabbits you see in illustrated children’s books, he has the most adorable white bottom! And most importantly, he has a tremendous hop! Speaking of children’s books, I started perusing my bookshelves for something new to read. (I have also started to compare my “volumes” with all the talking heads I see nightly on TV but tune out to what they are saying just to see what books they have behind them on their shelves.) I picked up an old copy of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s book The First Four Years and truthfully, even though I was an advanced reader at a young age, I wondered how I got through it.
“For it was June, the roses were in bloom over the prairie lands, and lovers were abroad in the still, sweet evenings which were so quiet after the winds had hushed at sunset.” Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote.
Reading this sentence now, I can see the roses blooming across the prairie and appreciate the winds lessening at sunset, but did I at the age of ten? (The book though written in the late 1940’s wasn’t published until 1971.)
On that note, it would be lovely to be “abroad” – using the word as in visiting a foreign country rather than in the context of lovers walking over a wide area. Hopefully, at least by the end of this year we will be able to at least “hop away” for a while so that we, like “Mr. Bunny,” can see some different pastures.
Until our next “Let’s Go” adventure.
My new book Get In The Car: A Food and Travel Memoir is available on Amazon.
My new book, available on Amazon (2/2021) in both paperback and Kindle version, is a food and travel memoir. Written in 2008 (and just published this year), it’s the story of traveling with my husband, Lynn and two children. Canada, California and numerous European countries are some of the places we visit. Join us for the ride.
I often find myself standing in front of the fridge looking at all the magnets I’ve collected on our travels. Sometimes a memory or two comes back from a city we’ve visited, a noteworthy museum or historic house we were lucky enough to see, or a certain dish at a restaurant that was really good. But the moment is fleeting and once I open the fridge, it’s all about business – planning breakfast, lunch and dinner.
The Fridge Door = A Memory Magnet Wall
As my past few blogs this year have revealed, there’s been a lot of cooking and a lot of eating. Lynn has learned how to make soup and pasta and perfected his pizza making. I baked more than I like to and what we didn’t eat, we froze. I finally got around to looking at old cookbooks that had been sitting on my bookshelves for years. And I read new cookbooks as if they were novels. I devoured each page as if it were a dish itself since my days were based on finding “activities” (i.e., making meals) that would not only pass the time but nourish us as well.
All Kinds of Goodies
Memorable Oyster Moments
I discovered my local supermarket carried freshly shucked oysters from Maryland swimming in their natural brine and bought myself a cast iron pan that I hope to eventually use outside on the grill (where it belongs) instead of in the oven. Taking inspiration from Sarah Leah Chase’s recipe in her New England Open House Cookbook, I learned how to put together a decent version of “Oysters Clark Rockefeller.” I made my own creamed spinach (using frozen spinach and half & half) and it came together beautifully with the addition of some grated Jarlsberg on top. Even as I was making this dish, however, I couldn’t help but remember one New Year’s at Leon’s Fine Poultry and Oyster Shop in Charleston, South Carolina. We spent a sunny afternoon there sitting at the bar and eating platters of coal-grilled oysters while sipping Spanish Cava!
It’s About Time For A Hike
In between all the cooking (and eating), we walked as much as we could before the cold weather and the snow started. We found trails in nearby marshes, walked around a few lakes, and into a lot of forests.
There were waterfalls to visit that were close to home and picturesque covered bridges to cross. All of this made me very happy that if we had to “quarantine” any where in the world this is a pretty nice place to do so.
Crackers and Butter, Why Not?
And then I made crackers. It seemed an okay recipe at the time but the dough was a bit dry and even though they came out fine in the end, the sesame seeds didn’t properly adhere to the dough. Guess what, we ate them anyway!
Then I heard about a shop that was making their own butter. I began to follow them on social media and subsequently paid them a visit even though it was a 45-minute drive away. While I thought the concept was unique, I was disappointed with their product. Consequently, a few days later I just whipped up a batch of my own “compounded” butter flavored with pink Himalayan sea salt. Full confession: I over salted my first batch but have containers of heavy cream sitting in the fridge waiting to be whipped into butter again.
Supporting Local Farms and Stocking Up!
Since March 2020, I have tried to support as many local farms and small businesses as possible. When the weather was warmer and we could have lunch outside at a restaurant, we did. Suddenly though, restaurants started closing. Either they weren’t making enough in takeout orders to keep their establishment solvent or unfortunately, they were forced to shut down because one of their employees had tested positive.
One afternoon we were craving a hamburger from a place we had been to before. I called to phone in an order only to listen to a recorded message that said their restaurant was closed “indefinitely.” So, we went home and for dinner that night I made the hamburger and tempura-fried onion rings we both wanted. (No, the burger wasn’t really this tall; I just wanted a dramatic photograph so stacked everything really quickly and hoped it wouldn’t topple over!)
As the weather got colder, we visited many local farms although Lynn gave a thumbs down to buying a pumpkin. Why? Because last year’s was torn to shreds by either a deer or squirrel or both so we bought tons of squash and apples instead.
I also bought a small freezer to stock up on butter and chicken and meat fearing we would face another round of food shortages going into the holiday season. We had absolutely no place to put an extra freezer in our house so it ended up going in the laundry room which works just fine for us.
Golf? Leaf Peeping? Day Trips?
We even bought some old golf clubs hoping to hit a driving range before it closed for the season even though we never did quite make it there. And we drove, sometimes hours, just to look at the leaves changing colors in a state park.
We visited places we had never been (Hamilton College Zen Gardens below). And went to see as many lakes in the Adirondack Park as we could. (And that’s beautiful Bog River Falls at the bottom of Tupper Lake.)
Picnics!
We often brought lunch with us after buying a really cool thermos that we filled with homemade chicken soup. To kick things up a notch, I also tossed in some store-bought tortellini at the last moment which resulted in a pretty decent version of “Tortellini en Brodo.” Lynn was so pleased that I had even packed a tablecloth on one such outing. He probably thought I was trying to be “romantic.” Actually, I was just trying to cover up any bird poop that might be splattered across the picnic table we were eating on.
Suddenly, Winter
And then it snowed. So we shoveled the snow off the deck and hauled the snowblower out of the garage. We just hoped it would start quickly so we could dig out our driveway!
The local kids started to sled down the hill next to our house and every day we would find another pair of discarded gloves or a hat thrown on our lawn.
The cold weather kept us indoors so I made stuffed cabbage and pulled out the sous vide machine to make chicken. I even ate cauliflower even though it has always been my least favorite vegetable. Hint: tossed with pancetta or bacon, some sliced olives, garlic, parsley and Parmesan it actually becomes edible!
TV Time
We started to watch cooking shows in the early evenings (before the grim newscasts about the number of COVID-19 deaths that day) just to get some ideas about different dishes we could make. This resulted in fish baked in parchment on a bed of slow roasted tomatoes with herbs and white beans. Oh and wine, you need lots and lots of white wine for this dish!
I also finally gave in and bought myself a non-stick frying pan just so that I could learn to make a “real” French herb-infused omelette the way I saw Jacques Pépin do on PBS! (It takes a lot longer to make an omelette this way, but I absolutely love the way it just slides out of the pan.)
I even made biscuits!
Then There Was The Meat Slicer
Yes, truly. I grew up in Munich, Germany, where cold cuts are “king” or at least “König-like” so I was comfortable with this new toy. I also wanted to wean Lynn off of unhealthy processed meat lunches and make my own ‘”healthier” protein for him to eat. After this purchase, we started roasting boneless pork roasts, center cuts of beef and huge chicken breasts. Sandwiches were topped with slices of unfortunately tasteless out-of-season tomatoes but spruced up a bit by a homemade mayo and horseradish spread. Salads were lavishly adorned with slices of chicken and ham was cut to order for leisurely and late breakfasts.
And We Talk and Talk (Childhood Stuff Is Frequently Mentioned)
Lynn and I have been fortunate enough to spend a lot of time together, now even more so. Luckily, we rarely run out of topics. We find ourselves remembering things that happened to us growing up. Lynn likes to tell me his “baked good” story even though I’ve heard it a thousand times before. Apparently when he was a young lad, a friend would entice him to go to a local shop to buy a “baked good.” Even though Lynn wasn’t quite sure what a “baked good” was, he went along for the adventure. (If you, too, aren’t quite sure what a “baked good” is, it’s simply something that was baked, i.e., a cookie, cake or cinnamon roll.) I decided to share with him a food memory from one of my many “summers in Whiting” stories.
Similar to his quest for a “baked good,” my summers in Whiting, Indiana, often involved a trip to a local supermarket with my maternal grandfather. There he would pick up some Hostess cupcakes and I learned from him the proper cupcake eating etiquette. One had to gently nibble first on the waxy chocolate frosting with the decorative white squiggle on top before digging into the cake portion beneath it.
Of course I overcompensate with all this nostalgic memory stuff by making French toast for breakfast one morning using leftover brioche and topped with some raspberries and local maple syrup. And for lunch? Well, I find a recipe I’ve been wanting to make for an Austrian apple cake and decide why make just one cake when you can make two? (We are not total gluttons, we eat one for lunch and freeze the other.)
These days we try to be upbeat but do worry about our adult children, my parents and other family members. To get out of the house we often visit a local farm. There we buy cheese, chicken livers if available, as well as lamb and veal. We freeze everything for future meals and on the way out, we take pictures of Jones Family Farm goats.
Embracing The Gray and the Holidays, Too
We spend Thanksgiving by ourselves, having decided as a family that it was too dangerous to get together now that we couldn’t totally socially distance or be outdoors. Since there was no need to make a turkey for the two of us (we had homemade lasagna instead), I suddenly had an entire afternoon on Thanksgiving Day with absolutely nothing to do! What did I do to pass the time? I decided to cut my hair!
As a woman of a certain age, I have embraced my gray hair and even more so since it’s actually turning a funky shade of silver! And since a visit to the hairdresser as well as a nail salon are big no-no’s for me, I just snipped off about two inches myself. Here’s the new me right after we put up our Christmas tree.
We celebrated Christmas alone as well which meant it was the first time we had spent a holiday without either of our children. We “make do” by eating platters of deviled eggs topped with salmon roe and some fresh dill. And the pâté? Well, that was tucked into little “nests” that I had crafted from the leftover sesame cracker dough.
See that mother-of-pearl caviar spoon? I was lucky enough to purchase it at a restaurant in Paris one year after a very delicious lunch. Sigh, I do miss our European adventures!
And Last But Not Least, Our Final Bathroom
Since we are home indefinitely, we also decided to tackle another (and hopefully last) big home repair project. Normally, this would not have been an article I would have covered here, but since we are not traveling or dining out, I think the “Let’s Go!” blog can make an exception to my own rule.
We had put off renovating this final bathroom for reasons we can’t even remember. When the kids and their spouses/partners come to visit, it becomes “their” bathroom. It was functional but old and dated. It was time.
So, we went to the “Big Box” store one more time, bought some tile and a new vanity and toilet that will be installed by some subcontractors. When we approached one subcontractor about also updating our bath/shower combo and asked him for an estimate, he responded with a number that was astronomically high. (His fee for this small bathroom redo was about the price of a used car!) Obviously we said no and started to plan to demolish and renovate the bathroom ourselves. After a few false starts and a couple of returns (vanity faucets to be precise), we tallied up the receipts and have spent a little under $300!
The fake marble paneling on the walls came down, and after much trial-and-error we managed to remove the bathtub faucets, too. Hint: white wine vinegar and a special $9 tool! What to see the “Pro Puller?”
To this day I still marvel at Lynn’s drawings and am really truly thankful he can do most of this renovation with a little help from me. This approach also saves us a ton of money!
In the meantime since I’m a trooper, I’m outside in the freezing cold helping him saw pieces of wood so we can build a wall.
Which we did!
Eventually the old drywall will come down around the tub but we needed to put up the wall before the new floor is laid.
Would I rather be traveling and eating oysters at a bar somewhere rather than renovating a bathroom? You betcha! Do I need a few more magnets to add to the “memory wall” on the fridge? Absolutely! As a matter of fact, I hope in the years to come that we can add more than a few to our collection.
Here’s to a happy, peaceful, and most of all healthy New Year everyone.
