Category: Food

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Summer in Maine?

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.

Until our next “Let’s Go” adventure.

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Luggage, I Missed You!

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 Winery And 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.

Until our next “Let’s Go” adventure.

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Chasing Deer and Surgeons

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.

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A Mohawk Valley Spring: A New Fence Project

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.

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Get In The Car

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.

Here’s the link: https://www.amazon.com/GET-CAR-Food-Travel-Memoir/dp/B08WZFTWDM/ref=sr_1_2?dchild=1&keywords=julie+mccoy+get+in+the+car&qid=1614963641&sr=8-2#reader_B08WZFTWDM

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A Very Long Year

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.

For those of you not familiar with my previous blog “The Red House Project,” I wrote about the renovation of our house for nearly nine years. Here’s the link to the story that describes how I tackled this very ugly bathroom by myself one summer. http://theredhouseproject.eathappy.net/the-beginning-of-the-red-house/learning-how-to-play-with-boy-toys/ .

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.

Until our next “Let’s Go” adventure.

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Shopping, Canning and “Hiking” As We Know It

It’s been a while since I have written. Our summer, like those of many people we know, was highly unusual. First and foremost, we tried to stay as close to home (within a three hour drive at least) as possible. I did miss “road trip” traveling this summer and being home more than usual, I found myself gravitating towards movies on TV that had scenes of Europe. (We were supposed to go back to Italy this year.)

One night Chocolat was on and I found myself looking fondly not only at Johnny Depp but also at Juliette Binoche who plays the character of “Vianne.” (Fun fact about Julie: I love windy days!) Consequently, when Vianne and her daughter Anouk travel to a new town “whenever the north wind blows” and somehow come up with a magic chocolate recipe that becomes their livelihood, well, that just made me want to travel even more.

I’ve always been a traveler and this blog was supposed to reflect that. Consequently, not being able to travel this summer because of the pandemic was a challenge. Therefore, we made do. Unfortunately, I traded in traveling for online shopping. Yes, I became one of those awful people who would eagerly wait every day for our local postman, UPS woman or FedEx guy to walk up our very long driveway, dutifully carrying the stuff we purchased.

They, invariably, wore a smile as they worked and I would thank them profusely for delivering all the things we ordered. Granted, some of the items purchased weren’t necessary but ultimately some of them came in very handy.

Two summers ago I had bought Marisa McClellan’s book, Food In Jars , but had not attempted a single recipe! When I tried to order the jars that I needed, I found that all the mason jars to be had in the entire Northern Hemisphere were back-ordered for at least 2 months. This would have been fine had it been May (the beginning of the growing season) but not August when suddenly I had tons of green beans that would be perfect to “put up!” Beets and garlic were showing up in the farmer’s markets, too, and tomatoes, well, let’s just say there were lots and lots of tomatoes that were waiting to be canned.

One day after my now nearly daily visit to the supermarket, I found some amber-colored jars and even though they were “wide-mouthed,” I bought them anyway. I learned to can “dilly” beans and ginger-infused beets but when I put them in the dark jars it came to me. The reason no one buys dark canning jars is because you can’t see what’s inside! Luckily, a couple of my beans managed to edge their way to one side so I could at least distinguish between the beans and the beets.

I also finally got to use a huge pot I had bought years ago with every intention of perhaps trying to steam my own lobsters. I never actually did that, preferring to buy them already cooked but luckily this pot turned out to be the perfect size and height for submerging mason jars in preparation for canning. When I realized you need lots and lots of mason jars when canning enormous amounts of produce (not just four!), I went back online and found some pint-sized ones with a delivery date of only three weeks. (A month later those same mason jars had also doubled in price but I ordered them again anyway.)

I also learned to make my own lobster rolls (buying the aforementioned lobsters already steamed for the awesome price of $5.99 a pound). Then I began to wonder why all these years (last summer in particular when we were driving through Maine towards Prince Edward Island) we were paying $25.00 or more for a mediocre lobster roll for lunch! (Second photo is one of my really yummy lobster rolls not an over-priced restaurant version.)

Then there were the tomatoes! Yikes, I think I now know why people easily can cucumbers to make pickles and buy tons of berries to make jam but do you know how many tomatoes you need to make sauce? You literally need a box full of tomatoes that will (if you’re lucky) yield less than a dozen jars of delicious, but thin (imagine V-8) sauce.

Besides canning, Lynn and I decided to start hiking. Since we live a mere 30 minutes from one section of the Adirondack Park, there was really no reason not to walk. Problem was, everywhere we went, there were tons of people hiking as well. We decided to try and limit our outings to only going out during the week (weekends being verboten) only to discover that many others had a similar idea.

We walked up Kane Mountain – a challenge for me before I bought a good walking stick since I’m not only afraid of heights but I had trouble catching my breath when hiking up and down the mountain. (I was never a smoker just out of shape.) I also didn’t expect to find all those tree roots! If you are as inexperienced a hiker as I am, one little root could definitely send you falling either on your face or your behind!

But as they say, if you don’t do the climb, you don’t get the view. Here’s the tower I managed to climb!

And here’s the reward:

After that challenge though, we opted for more sedate hikes. We sought out rail trails and easy paths always hoping for something with a view.

We bought hiking poles, an insulated backpack for these journeys and always made sure to have a cooler in the car for unexpected farm stands.

We visited numerous state parks and collected many rocks on the shoreline of Lake Ontario.

We revisited Chimney Bluffs near Wolcott, NY, and discovered Tibbetts Point Lighthouse which overlooked the Saint Lawrence River.

We hiked quite a few trails in the Adirondack Park but also drove miles both north and south of us in search of the perfect waterfall.

The summer had been very dry so every time we drove two hours plus we were happy if the water was actually cascading over the rocks and not just a trickle.

We frequently packed a lunch, usually a sandwich or bagel (plus I would begrudgingly pack potato chips for Lynn since he loves chips) but made sure to also pack some fresh fruit. We would occasionally try to visit a winery during the week (thinking that weekends would be more crowded) only to find that similar to our hiking adventures, many of these establishments were just as packed on a sunny Tuesday!

When we ate out, we would only eat at establishments where we could sit outside. And the menu had to have at least one item that I couldn’t (or wouldn’t) make myself. (See the problem with being a decent home cook?) Most of the time we got lucky; look at this beautiful version of a “Falafel Scottish Egg” as the topping on a bed of arugula encased in a cucumber “ring” while lying in a pool of Romesco sauce! (We had this lovely appetizer for lunch one day at the Otesaga Hotel in Cooperstown. )

When we weren’t out “wandering,” we would hang out on the deck. We would fight (yes, literally) over who got to water the vegetable garden in the back of the house and the flowers and bushes in the front of the house. (Hey, it was an activity.)

In between I baked. A pound cake baked in a Bundt pan seemed like a good idea at the time even though it was big enough to feed eight! A quiche is always a welcome lunch addition and I even tried to make chocolate-filled brioche courtesy of a Dorie Greenspan recipe. (They were belly-bombs!)

We bought a new grill which resulted in me trying to find something to grill that I hadn’t made before. Wait! Want to see the instructions on “how to put the grill together?”

How about an Eric Ripert recipe for grilled romaine that’s slathered with mayonnaise, Parmesan and some anchovy paste? What about a Mediterranean spin (that would be olives and tomatoes) on some home-grown asparagus?

The few times we did take-out, we often had to drive 60-70 miles to bring home sushi or oysters on the half shell. (That sounds reasonable, right?)

And on those days that I was working, we would have salad, or my old 1970’s standby, tomatoes stuffed with homemade tuna salad.

And then there was the sand box. I decided we needed a swing so Lynn built a sandbox, too. We hung up the swing (also purchased online) and one windy day (scenes of Chocolat perhaps?), the branch snapped. In hindsight, was I perhaps trying to swing my way to a make-believe travel adventure? Of course, it wasn’t a clean break but a messy, dangling break that required an amputation!

We even blew up a large kiddie pool complete with beach balls and a couple of “donut” floats. (We never did get the pool level even after three months!)

And purchased some new chairs and a fire pit!

Our children came to see us a few times this past summer and we were careful to social distance and eat outside. When we were inside, we kept the patio doors wide open and they, and their respective partners, were kind enough to get COVID tested before they came up for a visit. Each and every time after they left though Lynn and I both felt sad. (We miss them!)

Going into the fall season, we’ve been hiking a bit less but at least trying to walk closer to home. We walk along the Erie Canal nearly every day (even in the rain) and try to find some paths we haven’t explored yet. One day, we found the remains of an abandoned building, reminding us just how prosperous the town was way back when.

In the meantime, the minute the weather started to get colder, I made dumplings and my version of Ramen.

Now that we are a few days away from turning back the clocks and going into true fall season, we’ve started to put all our outdoor “toys” away. We got the snowblower repaired (it broke last season) and put extra mulch on our rose bushes.

We visited an orchard the other day to get some apples since my second order of mason jars finally arrived and making apple sauce is on my “to do” list. I was also very tickled at the sight of our Amish farmers stack of pumpkin decorations.

Is it too soon to look forward to next summer? I believe so, especially “whenever the north wind blows.”

Until our next “Let’s Go” adventure.

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Some Milestone Memories

Just a few weeks ago here in the Mohawk Valley we thought spring was upon us. The tulips were blooming and the bamboo started to grow back as well. Then we woke up one morning to snow.

It gave me time to reflect on how life takes unexpected turns and weather even more so. Since we have been sheltering in place like millions of people all over the world during this pandemic, Lynn and I have spent a lot of time together. Luckily, we never run out of things to talk about – mostly we discuss places we’ve traveled to with a couple of foodie meal reminiscences thrown in for good measure. It’s precisely because we have traveled so much that I’ve come to realize how many memories we have shared together.

“I spoke to you first,” my husband Lynn said to me at dinner the other night. “You know, I kept seeing you on the elevator but you ignored me.”

I had to laugh when he said this to me. I had heard the story before but now that we have been home together every single day and night (except for the occasional trip to the supermarket, liquor store or pharmacy), I actually had time to think about way back when. Full confession: I don’t remember seeing him on an elevator! I don’t think this makes me a terrible person or bad wife, it just means I remember things differently.

For example, I remember the day we met at a dorm party. It was October 6, 1979 and I even remember what I was wearing (white jeans, light blue top). But it makes me wonder, on the day we “officially” met, could we have ever envisioned 41 years later that we would be sheltering in place in a Big Red House a mere 75 miles from where it all started? Highly unlikely.

Want to see what I looked like back then? Yes, I did in fact prefer to wear peasant skirts and a BLOUSE!

Prior to our purchasing the Red House, we used to spend a lot of time in California; January after the holidays (our Christmas gift to each other) and again in September/October for our anniversary and hopefully also timing it with “crush” if we were in Northern California. Who wouldn’t want to look at beautiful vineyards filled with grapes, drink copious amounts of wine and drive the coast – especially with views like this?

If we weren’t in California, then we were in Europe. Often we even took the kids. The first and only time we have been to Berlin we took them with us. If I went back to Berlin now and revisited the Brandenburg Gate, I would probably wonder where they had wandered off to.

Lynn and I have also been fortunate to have traveled to Paris many times. But to this day, even if it’s just the two of us in Paris, I still think of Nicholas skateboarding in front of the Eiffel Tower!

And Rachel? Could she have posed for a picture any prettier than in Monet’s garden in Giverny?

During this pandemic, I started to think about all the family trips for other families that may never happen. What about first dates and chance encounters that are missed? Remember the scene in Back to the Future where Michael J. Fox (playing the character Marty McFly) realizes that if his parents don’t meet and you know, kiss big time, he, himself, would not have been born. And remember how he then spends a good part of the movie watching himself slowly fade away on a photograph he’s holding in his hand? That’s how I kind of feel these days about memories that aren’t happening.

Would our life together have been different if we had never gone to California? This picture of us (one of my favorites actually) wouldn’t exist. Would we understand and appreciate farm to table cooking and good wine as much?

What if we had never traveled with our kids? Rachel never would have been standing on a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

And what about smooching the Blarney Stone? There wouldn’t be a photograph of the four of us standing on the ramparts of the Blarney Castle in Ireland. (P.S. I didn’t kiss the rock, I just looked at it.)

These past few weeks I’ve started to think not only of trips we’ve made together but of birthdays we celebrated too.

Here’s the cake that I made for Rachel’s birthday 10 years ago!

That was the cake for the “family” party. She also had a sweet 16 and celebrated with some of her girlfriends with a limo ride and dinner at a popular restaurant in NYC. She’s so beautiful here in her dress!

How many of these milestone events now during our “stay at home” order will have to be spent at home and not celebrated according to plan? Will these celebrations ever be made up or will we just do something on a smaller scale or ignore them totally and move on?

One of my nieces, Daniella, shared some of her thoughts with me about not having the sweet 16 party she was supposed to have. She wrote, “I really wanted to go to school for my birthday to see my friends and everything but school got canceled 3 days before. And then we found out on my birthday that the restaurant was closed…so everyone came over for pizza that night. I was supposed to have a party and that never happened. And we were supposed to see a Broadway play and that’s been postponed. ”

She also mentioned other friends whose parties keep getting pushed back and knows friends who have “just sat at home on their birthday.” She told me she really “did luck out” with the small gathering she was able to have in her honor.

I think that’s a really good attitude to have these days.

This Memorial Day weekend is bittersweet. Usually by this time of year I’m struggling with the stress of what we call the “end of the school year finish line.” But since I’m working from home these days, the finish line is a lot easier. Normally, Lynn and I have already mapped out summer vacation plans or at least a road trip or two. This year we were thinking about going back to Nova Scotia – an area we haven’t visited in 30 years. We were also thinking about a repeat visit to Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater in Pennsylvania on the way to Nashville.

Then there is Lake Superior. It’s the only one of the “Great Lakes” we haven’t seen together. And when I get an idea in my head about doing something or going somewhere, eventually I make it happen. Apparently, that won’t be the case this summer.

It’s probably the traveling part that I miss the most coupled with the knowledge going forward that there may be no travels whatsoever for us anytime soon. Does this mean we will simply be “camping” forever at the Red House?

I think this is actually okay. We’ve managed to finally catch up on some overdue home projects. After all, it’s been a little less than a year since we permanently moved up to the Mohawk Valley. And yes, believe it or not, there is still one box that hasn’t been unpacked because it’s filled with pictures and some art work that either needs to be framed and/or hung on a wall.

There has also been quite a bit of gardening. I even bought myself a new pair of gardening gloves which I found particularly charming in that they bizarrely had my paternal grandmother’s name stitched on the side.

I realize that this sheltering in place has not only compromised our lifestyle but made us redefine family and home. Now we spend days deliberately and carefully avoiding any contact with anyone. There are signs taped on the floor of one of the few stores we frequent – directing us where to stand and which direction to walk. And always reminding us to “social distance” and remain six feet apart.

Meanwhile, the deer on our property obviously aren’t following the “rules,” they are congregating in larger groups than we’ve seen before.

But I have to think that this pandemic has compromised so many memories. So much of our childhood and young adulthood relies on certain milestones – whether it be a sweet 16 or school graduation. To make matters even worse, it’s the elderly parents and grandparents who can’t celebrate these milestones with us. I’ve seen pictures of people waving to their parents and grandparents through a window. This saddens me. What about those folks who are deemed too “vulnerable” to even go outside to shop or take a simple walk in case they are exposed to the virus? What memories will they have other than of being stuck at home?

Pictures, of course, help immensely in trying to remember how life had been. But you can’t take a photograph of an important milestone if the milestone doesn’t happen.

I mean, look at sweet Nicholas when he won a plaque for competing in a karate tournament on Long Island!

Or Rachel on her first trip to France when I asked her to turn around so I could photograph her in the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles!

Meanwhile, as we prepare for the summer months, it’s good to spend time outside; gardening (as mentioned) helps immensely. Most of the vegetables are planted and I’m working on a new planter box filled with herbs as well.

This is a photograph I took of a mural painted on a hotel room wall in St. Paul de Vence one summer when we were traveling through the south of France. It’s quite lovely isn’t it? Sigh, I do miss that life.

There’s a lot of time for reflection these days. Lynn and I have been lucky. We don’t know anyone personally who has gotten sick or died from COVID-19. We do know many people who have lost their jobs and are struggling with meager unemployment checks and countless bills to pay. We have tried to help our local farmers by purchasing CSA shares and shopping at their small farm stands when we can. We have tried to limit our online shopping, choosing instead to support local butchers and bakers and liquor stores. We play a lot of Scrabble. We have watched more TV than we normally do but we try to limit the amount of news we watch because it’s just too depressing. We have repeatedly cleaned the house and organized drawers and thought of even more projects to do both inside and outside our home.

Actually, like my niece Daniella wrote, I think we did “luck out.” And while I miss our travel life , I’m okay with this new “normal. ”

Until our next “Let’s Go” adventure.

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Cooking, Baking and Some Reflections on Family Life During COVID-19

Since we have been sheltering in place since March 10 (the school district on Long Island that I work for was the first to close because of a confirmed Coronavirus case), it has given me ample time to reflect on the many things I’m grateful for.

First and foremost that the house I live in now is the biggest house we’ve ever owned. There are lots of rooms to wander in and out of, plus a choice of where not only to work but read as well. I also, finally, have a kitchen that’s really big. This means that when I’m cooking, it’s perfectly okay for people to hang out and watch me do so. (Wouldn’t it be lovely to have a family party/feast right about now? I think so.)

There’s been a lot of cooking. There’s been a lot of eating. I have discovered cookbooks that I bought or were gifted to me over 30 years ago. I now have the time to read through them and I have even attempted to make some of the recipes. After all, who wouldn’t want to at least leaf through this giant “coffee table” book of Provence, especially when you can’t go there anytime soon!

There’s also been a lot of baking. Since I don’t particularly like baking and reluctantly do it around the Christmas season, this has become a revelation for me. Now I’ve finally come to understand why I originally hated it; it just takes way too much time to bake things. Suddenly, I’ve come to appreciate it! Why? Because all those steps that are necessary to get dough to rise or butter to soften, well, are actually perfect to follow now when all one has is time. So far I’ve made muffins and bread and a fairly simple Dorie Greenspan apple galette.

I even made my first tray of baklava! I remember years ago trying to work with phyllo and not understanding the concept. What do you mean I had to brush this very fragile dough with melted butter while keeping the sheets of dough I was not using under a “damp” cloth. Now I get it. Note to self: see you can teach an old dog new tricks!

I’ve also been making dishes that are labor-intensive. I’m not going so far as to pretend I’m Julie Powell cooking every single recipe in Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking cookbook (remember she wrote a cooking blog during the aftermath of 9/11 that became a book that morphed into a movie). I have, however, been attempting to cook things I don’t normally make – like challah. I mean come on braiding strands of dough? I could barely braid my daughter’s hair when she was little let alone some dough.

All this cooking by the way, if anyone has been married as long as I have, has made my husband very happy. Apparently, even though I’m a very good cook, he likes the fact that I’m making things I’ve never made or haven’t made in years. Most of which is not very good for him (or me). Case in point: Tempura Fried Shrimp.

And then I spent an entire Sunday afternoon (not that it really matters what day it is anymore) making a new meatball recipe. I know, I know, I don’t like meatballs very much either. But I opened a cookbook, Italian Regional Cooking, (seen here among many others on the shelf above my stove) that Ada Boni wrote in 1969 and I couldn’t resist trying her

Polpetta di Carne also known as “Meatballs in Tomato Sauce Neapolitan Style.” Why? Because I was interested in how combining chopped meat with golden raisins and nuts coupled with bread crumbs, parsley, garlic and “lard” (note: I substituted 2 slices of bacon) would taste. Dare I reveal you have to fry the meatballs and then simmer the whole thing in a big batch of tomato sauce? PS: They were good!

Besides the cooking I’m also working from home. This turned out to be much easier than I thought it would be primarily because our outside IT company was able to get me up and running very quickly. While there are certain components to the job that take 3x as long to do remotely, overall everything is getting done. And ultimately, that’s all that matters.

But working at home has also given me time to reflect on what it would be like if our kids were still young. When I worked at FIT in New York City (and before flex-time was even a concept), I managed to negotiate a four day work week so I could stay home when both our son and daughter were little. I would spend the extra day off (usually Friday) with our first born and sometimes we would go feed the ducks at a small pond in the neighborhood. Other times we’d visit a local amusement park (Nunley’s on Long Island before they tore it down to build a Pep Boys) so he could ride around in a little car.

After lunch and a nap (his not mine), we would color and read and sing songs. Later he would watch me make dinner and when he got older (like around the ripe old age of 3), he was able to make a sandwich on his own or at least pretend he could.

When our daughter arrived five years later, we would walk on the boardwalk in Long Beach, NY. Since my braiding skills even then were lousy, at least I managed to pull her hair back into what I consider a very posh pony tail.

And when she got older, she and I would walk on the sand, often slowly, so she could stop to pick up pretty shells and colorful rocks.

Today during this state of “PAUSE” in New York, I think about parents who are at home with their school-age children and the very many demands that are put upon them. If the parents are trying to work remotely and the kids have school work to complete, too, well say no more. With probably limited outdoor activity and no fun excursions to a beach or boardwalk or local park, I can only imagine the high levels of stress for everyone in that household.

I’m also wondering how Lynn and I would cope with raising teenagers during this time. Both our son and daughter were very independent. Could we conceivably have asked them not to leave the house during this time to go hang out and visit their friends? If we had tried to make them stay home would they have listened to us? I think probably not.

In the meantime, my parents, now in their 80’s, are home on Long Island. Our daughter lives close by with her boyfriend and she does check in with them via phone and an occasional drive-by. Our son and his wife are in Astoria. They run every day to break up the monotony of being at home and trying to work from home. They not only call the grandparents but Facetime us frequently, too. For that I’m very happy. And while I love the tremendous amount of space and property we have at the Red House, I miss our children during these very trying times.

For now, I will keep cooking and baking and working from home. And for all the kids out there, the young ones in particular who are pretend doctors and bakers and carnival-makers (like the two you see below), you never know, some of them might actually remember this time fondly.

Until our next “Let’s Go” adventure.

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Suddenly, A Wedding

This past Friday, March 13th, we went to a wedding. In Manhattan. In the middle of this insane Coronavirus outbreak!

Things being what they are (and changing every single day it feels like), our son Nicholas and his girlfriend (now wife) Shirley decided last Wednesday afternoon that they had to get married. As in as soon as legally possible.

Their original wedding was scheduled for April 3, 2020. It was to be a small affair with a trip to the New York City Marriage Bureau followed by a wine bar gathering on the Lower East Side with some friends and family.

We had rented a large hotel suite. We had purchased Amtrak train tickets to get down to Manhattan. We had made lunch and dinner reservations for the day before and after their wedding.

What happened on Wednesday you ask that moved up this event so suddenly? Two things: First, Condé Nast (where Shirley works) decided to close the offices in One World Trade Center because of the virus. So, upon hearing this, Nicholas met up with Shirley and they went to get their marriage license right away. After all, it was a mere 15 minute walk from her office to the City Clerk. Also their thinking at the time was if this gets much worse really quickly, that office might close as well. Therefore, after a minimal wait and a $35 licensing fee, the ball was set in motion.

By Thursday afternoon, Nicholas was calling us in the Mohawk Valley to let us know that he and Shirley were getting married on Friday around noon and they would “find” a witness somewhere. There was an urgency to his phone call which I understood.

A few hours after Mom and Dad had finished dinner (that would be Lynn and I) and a bottle of wine as well, this Mom decided she wasn’t missing her son’s wedding – Coronavirus or no Coronavirus. After all, I do the commute down to Long Island once a week anyway. Driving to NYC would be a no-brainer, right?

By 10 p.m. Thursday night, I had called Nicholas back to tell him we would be there and could be his “witnesses.” He was quick to agree to this new plan and had a single word for his father and I.

“Cool,” he said.

What to Wear!

We quickly packed some clothes – a dress, heels and stockings for me in case the bride and groom were “dressing up.” A jacket, shirt and tie for Lynn. I also packed some toiletries and a black frilly top. Last but not least, my favorite silk kimono jacket that I had bought one year when we were visiting San Francisco’s Chinatown. It’s a lovely shade of olive green with a hint of gold and some cranberry-colored appliqued velvet flowers. That would work, right?

Don’t Forget the Pearls!

Of course I barely slept that night! By 6:30 a.m. we were up and at the last moment I thought of Shirley. Would she have time to put together an outfit? What about flowers? Did she have pearls? I rummaged through my chest of drawers and found the (fake) pearls (now yellowed with age no less) that I wore to my own wedding 34 years ago – also on the 13th!

And I found some “real” pearls Lynn had given me either for a birthday or an anniversary one year. I thought of the saying: “Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.” If nothing else, the 34-year-old pearls could count as both “borrowed” and “old.” I put the two strands in a box and threw them in the bag we were taking down to NYC.

“Pepper”

It was damp, foggy and pouring rain as we drove down to pick them up in Astoria. They were busy getting dressed when we walked into their apartment. Lynn and I quickly changed too, opting for our more casual outfits. Their “baby” Pepper couldn’t have cared less what Mommy and Daddy were going to do that day! She was just chilling on the bed waiting for everyone to leave so she could get back to her nap!

From Astoria we drove into Manhattan taking the 59th Street bridge. We pulled into the first parking garage we saw that was closest to the New York City Marriage License Bureau. By now it had stopped raining but I took extra umbrellas anyway – after all we didn’t want the bride or groom to get wet!

Want to see what they were wearing?

The Bride and Groom

Here they both are waiting in front of cashier #7 (empty at the time) for their number to be called. First they had to pay the $25 marriage ceremony fee; then you wait some more to have the marriage ceremony performed. (Yes, it is in fact like DMV.)

Since we didn’t have time to place a wedding announcement in The New York Times (just kidding) here’s what I came up with:

Ladies and Gentlemen: For the early afternoon event, the bride, Ms. Shirley Cruz, wore a spaghetti strap black-and-white checked jumpsuit. On her head was a French beret – giving her outfit she told me a “French film noir kind of motif.” (I loved it!). Ms. Cruz will keep her maiden name.

P.S. Look at the pearls on her neck! Yes, she did in fact wear both necklaces! And wait, I think her blue beret qualified as the “something blue” she needed for this happy occasion!

Ladies and Gentlemen: The groom, Mr. Nicholas Parish, was outfitted in a smashing Liberty-print inspired floral necktie, suit jacket and gray dress shirt. On his head he wore his hair, still slightly damp from the morning shower. Mr. Parish will keep his name, too.

The Crowd

It was pretty crowded that day at the Marriage Bureau. We wondered whether others there had the same idea that Nicholas and Shirley had the day before. If they close down city buildings, how will people get married? The fun part about being in New York City (and one of the few things I miss now that we have permanently moved upstate) is that you get to see all kinds of things (and people) you don’t see anywhere else.

Okay, so the few women I saw wearing a white gown (or variation thereof), I figured were the brides. But then there were the other “couples” where I truly couldn’t figure out who was getting married to who! One guy I saw wore a top hat with a gray silk suit. He reminded me of a circus ringmaster or at the very least a lion tamer. I kept looking around to see if someone else would show up with some sort of exotic animal on a leash! I’m sure if such a creature did appear, they (and their handler) probably thought it would be perfectly normal to bring “it” to this particular “party.”

Then there was the couple who were in gym clothes and were waiting patiently for their number to be called while clutching their water bottles and their yoga mats. Even though I do have a VERY vivid imagination, I actually could NOT visualize what their ceremony would be like inside the clerk’s chambers! Dare I even mention the couple who brought their three children – all under the age of five?

Meanwhile, to kill some time we took pictures. Here’s Lynn and I with the groom. Lynn and I with the bride. This is what you look like when you don’t have time to “fix up good.” Us, not Nicholas or Shirley; they both looked gorgeous!

The Bouquet

The night prior, Shirley had the foresight to go out to get some flowers and make her own bouquet. She said she was lucky that a friend had told her how to bind the flowers together. They also were smart enough to put them in the fridge overnight to keep them as fresh looking as possible.

I love the white hydrangeas, the lilac-colored roses, baby’s breath and the dark purple freesia. This is an awesome bouquet! Do you know she told me it cost her a little over $20 to make it?

The Ceremony

Finally, their number was called (C66!) and we waited a few more minutes to go into a private room with a city employee. It was the four of us. The clerk read the script, the bride and groom said, “I do’s,” exchanged rings and kissed. The video I shot shows this took exactly 1:28.

Once outside the main waiting area we took a few more photographs. Nicholas lifting up his new bride! Don’t you just love Shirley’s boots? (I do!) And wait, weren’t those NEW boots? See where I’m going here?

And then outside the building.

Should I mention while taking this shot I was also on the Resy app trying to make a lunch reservation? Yep, I really am that talented!

The Wedding Lunch

We walked to Augustine. Chef Markus Glocker, who all four of us know from the Tribeca restaurant, Bâtard, was cooking lunch that day. Little did we realize that within 24 hours many NYC restaurants would be temporarily stopping service. By Monday evening (as I’m writing this post), Governor Cuomo would close all restaurants, bars and movie theaters in New York State!

When we walked into the nearly empty restaurant the hostess greeted us with, “Would you like to wash your hands?”

We absolutely did and followed her as she pointed out the restrooms in a different part of the building. (Augustine is located in The Beekman Hotel.)

Only then did we sit down at our table.

It was their wedding. We had champagne! We had oysters! We had appetizers! We had entrees – steak frites, arctic char, schnitzel, moules. WE DID NOT SHARE OUR PLATES. We had wine! And at the end, Chef Markus brought us out desserts on the house! Want to see our feast?

At the end of this very long but beautiful day, everyone decided it was absolutely the right thing to do. The best wedding I’ve ever been to! (Okay, I’ve only been to a handful of weddings but still.) Easy and simple. The way life should be.

Here they are:

Until our next “Let’s Go” adventure.