Originally, this was going to be the continuation of the road trip we started in September 2021 which ended abruptly when Lynn got sick. He is better now and thus, we decided to resume the trip we had originally planned. But once I looked at the map, there were other places I wanted to see as well, so I added them to the list. Namely: Gettysburg, PA, Kitty Hawk, NC, Wilmington, NC, Richmond, VA, and finally, Fenwick Island, DE.
We had been to Gettysburg before but realized as we were touring the Gettysburg National Military Park, that we hadn’t seen any of the monuments. So, I’m not sure what I remember us doing there years ago other than maybe driving around the town. It was humbling, to say the least, to be there on September 11, 2024, and see the statues, battlefield locations, and the cemetery. I took a lot of pictures, but the day felt sad to me. Probably because of 9/11 and also the loss of so many young men.
The biggest monuments were from the states of Pennsylvania and New York. But I also liked seeing the statues of Lincoln and we climbed up the rocks to see Little Round Top and got a sense of the challenges of fighting on that terrain and at that height. The Eternal Light Memorial was also memorable although we couldn’t actually see the light because the sun was so bright at that particular time of day.
We spent nearly 2.5 hours driving through the park and also visited the cemetery where Lincoln gave the Gettysburg Address. I felt particularly heavy-hearted to see the “unknown” markers for those killed on the battlefield.
We had just enough time to also visit the Eisenhower house and farm in Gettysburg, the town the former President and his wife chose to retire in. The house wasn’t open for tours, and we were the only people there, but I loved seeing the house and the vegetable and flower garden. Look at those peppers! And even though I know absolutely nothing about his Presidency, I did get a sense that this was a very soothing place to escape to after being in Washington.
A Funky Hotel, Then Dinner
There were actually more than a couple of places to stay at in the area, but I wanted to stay in town and not spend a zillion dollars. The Federal Pointe Inn, originally built as the town’s first high school, has since been transformed into a hotel. Although it’s part of the Choice hotel chain, it definitely doesn’t look like any Choice hotel I’ve stayed in. The hotel was charmingly decorated with antiques, the bathroom was renovated, and the room was comfortable and spacious. (I mention room size only because I knew that the rooms on the rest of the trip would be tiny in comparison.)
Doesn’t this look like a lovely hotel? I think so. I also loved the fact that some developer didn’t tear down this historic building and just plop down a big box-like building to house another ugly chain hotel.
We walked into town for dinner that night and ate at Sign of the Buck. My decision to eat there was primarily because I was intrigued by the venison steak on the menu. Since I rarely see venison on any menu in the U.S., it was definitely my go to order, and it didn’t disappoint. Also, this summer, I saw a lot of chefs (and home cooks) jumping on the Basque cheesecake bandwagon. I have never made a Basque cheesecake and stopped making large format desserts years ago when the kids moved out. For those who aren’t familiar with this dish, it’s a crustless cheesecake that is baked at a higher temperature, so the top is burnt and caramelized. While this cheesecake was okay, it didn’t have the caramelization I was looking for. (But it did look pretty on the plate with those little puffs of meringue, too.)
BBQ in Henrico
I had tried to plan some stops on the long drive south so we wouldn’t be eating 1) fast food or 2) no food at all. Visiting Redemption BBQ in Henrico, VA, was a bit of a detour, but since they had gotten a recent mention in the August issue of Southern Living, I couldn’t resist at least trying their pulled pork sandwich.
Don’t let the modest storefront in a shopping plaza deter you. When we walked in to order a couple of pulled pork sandwiches to go, there was a sign on the door apologizing for any delays you might experience in getting your food in a timely manner. Apparently, because of the magazine article, the place has been mobbed.
We waited less than 5 minutes for our sandwiches to be made and we were offered free glasses of sweet or unsweetened iced tea. Welcome to the South!
Finally, Kitty Hawk!
We arrived in Kitty Hawk a bit after 5 p.m., after braving Virginia drivers (worse than New Yorker’s mind you), and a line of cars going over the Monitor Merrimac Memorial Bridge/Tunnel. Since the weather was about to turn, we checked into our Holiday Inn and after dropping our bags, ran back out to look at the ocean. (Remember we lived near the ocean on Long Island for 30+ years, but somehow seeing a different part of the Atlantic is exciting.)
Not only did we get a pretty view of the beach, but the colorful prickly pear cactus on the walk to the beach automatically gave the trip a more south of the border vibe than expected.
Dinner at Steamers later that evening proved to be a nice surprise. We made the mistake of asking for a table on the upper deck of the restaurant and it was so windy I thought we’d get blown over the side! I remember eating a really good clam chowder to start, but I think I just kept my head down, ate the soup, and forgot to take a picture. I didn’t forget about our entrees though. Lynn ordered swordfish on a bed of risotto, and I had perfectly cooked tuna on a bed of mashed with some really good fried oysters.
The sound of the cannons being fired over the fort wall were loud. It was a warm sunny day and we found ourselves very happy to be back on the road again. Just under 2.5 hours from our house, the long tree-lined drive up to Fort Ticonderoga reminded me of trips we had done in the south visiting historical homes. Overlooking Lake Champlain, this 18th century fort had barracks to explore, fortified walls to climb, and most importantly, an amazing garden to “ooh and aah” over.
Our guided interpreters weren’t using real cannon balls that afternoon but dressed as British soldiers and American “provincial soldiers,” they put on a good show in pretending to defend the fort during the French and Indian War. We also learned about shoemaking and tailoring in the 1760’s and as much as we tried to get our “soldiers” to fall out of character by suggesting they order their britches from Amazon rather than sewing them by hand, they didn’t take the bait.
After holding our hands over our ears after the cannon firing, we headed towards the greenery. Called the “King’s Garden,” there is a bountiful vegetable garden (much of which was used I was told to create salads in the fort’s cafe) as well as an astonishing array of colorful flower beds and herbs. The fort was nice but truthfully, I could have sat in the garden all day.
Look at the lettuce, the over-sized sunflower, and the orange and yellow marigolds!
Here are some details from the garden door entrances and a lovely fountain in a reflecting pool.
After we left the garden, we had one last thing to visit before we left the area – Mount Defiance. A short 10-minute drive from the fort, a token we were given when buying the tickets had to be inserted into what looked like a parking meter. The people in front of us were having a bit of a problem with this task. It turned out that the distance between the meter and the driver’s side of the vehicle was too far. This meant that someone had to get out of the car, insert the token, then quickly jump back in the car so you didn’t run the risk of having the barrier gate hit your windshield. Sigh. Was this the best (only?) idea someone could come up with to give visitor’s access to the road that led up to the Mount? Once we dealt with this annoyance, the view at the summit of Lake Champlain and the fort in the distance was pretty amazing. We stayed a bit longer than planned to hear our costumed interpreter talk about everything that was wrong with the fort. First of all, the walls surrounding the fort weren’t high enough to ward off invaders, and secondly, it was facing the wrong way. Today, however, when you look at the picture I took, it kind of looks like a halfway decent condo complex.
Lake George Revisited
After visiting the fort, we drove south to Lake George. Although we had driven through Lake George a few times coming back from someplace else (probably Canada), we hadn’t stayed in the area in 20+ years. Eschewing the more touristy Lake George main area, we settled on a family-run resort in Diamond Point.
The Juliana Resort was a quirky motel with ranch style accommodations. Before booking, the reservation site was very specific about your room amenities and views. Therefore, given the option of having a “parking lot view” or at least a glimpse of the lake, I chose the latter.
Well, it wasn’t the sprawling view of the lake I thought it would be and the “beach” aspect of the resort was probably the tiniest piece of sand I had ever seen, but there was a dock, and the mountains were pretty. Also, the room was clean, and the grounds were well-kempt with lots of grills and outdoor tables and even a wooden “Adirondack-style” swing that we did indeed swing in.
Dinner Options
If you remember my story from two years ago about our dearth of food options (and only a single food shot – BBQ in Richmond, VA), I was determined that was absolutely not going to happen on this trip. I planned hotel stays based around restaurants I wanted to dine in. In the Lake George area, I knew this would be a challenge since “red-sauce” and “wing-type” places outnumber any true culinary finds. Well, you probably know where this is going, right? The restaurant we ate in (which I will not name) on the first night of our road trip looked okay on their website. Right on the lake and only a short six-minute drive from the motel, it boasted not one but three outdoor decks, a no-reservation policy, and what they described as “stunning views.”
When we arrived for dinner, I didn’t see any food on anyone’s table. What I did see were half-eaten plates of nachos, bread baskets that appeared to have been untouched, and lots and lots of empty wine glasses. It’s not like we had the option of going anywhere else, right?
We ordered clam chowder (first mistake) that was mostly cream and potatoes. Lynn opted for a pork roast special that I have to assume no one else in the entire restaurant had ordered because they gave him what seemed like a family-sized portion. I had been craving a steak since the beginning of the summer and decided to order a tenderloin. The steak that came out was so overcooked it could only be described as “gray.” Even though it was actually fairly soft, it was tasteless. Hence, even more sighing on my part.
When I asked our server to take a picture of us that evening, briefly explaining to her that we hadn’t traveled in two years, nor had we been back to Lake George in over 20, she said, “Wow!”
I continued to tell her that I realized after working on a photo project this past summer that I had only found 72 photographs of us as a couple. When I showed her a photograph that was taken shortly after we first met, she said something very odd.
“You’re so small!”
I think she meant to say “young” but somehow “small” became her word of choice. Since Lynn is 5 foot 10 and I’m not much shorter (5 foot 8), I don’t think “small” is the way to describe us. But since we both have a sense of humor, we now like to ask each other in the morning, “How are you feeling?” Obviously, the answer is “I’m feeling small!”
In case anyone is curious. Do we look “small” in either of these photographs?
In the morning, I made the mistake of telling Lynn we would be having breakfast at a “flapjack-type of place” on the drive out of town. He seemed to misinterpret this as a breakfast spot that only serves pancakes. Consequently, I had to show him the menu since he’s really an egg-and-toast kind of guy. We actually had decent ham and cheddar omelets for breakfast and yes, I ordered a side of silver-dollar pancakes. Not only were they yummy, but I was happy they didn’t upcharge me for some real maple syrup to pour on top.
Destination: Lake Winnipesaukee
At some point during the pandemic, I had been getting emails from the Wolfeboro Inn in Wolfeboro, NH, on the above-mentioned lake. We hadn’t been to that part of New Hampshire, and it seemed like it might be scenic and fun. Luckily, there were also a couple of decent restaurants in town, so I thought why not? The hotel had seen better days, but it was also one of the few reasonably priced places to stay in Wolfeboro. Our room on the second floor looked out onto the central air conditioning unit of a lower building, and from what I could tell walking around the grounds, none of the rooms had a lake view. Luckily, dinner that night (not at the hotel) gave me faith that going forward quite a few good meals might be attainable.
Pavillon is a relatively new restaurant in Wolfeboro connected to a luxury boutique hotel. Focused primarily on small plates, we started with corn chowder and homemade parker house rolls. (I never order bread but couldn’t resist trying these.) Spätzle with roasted carrots and peas (shown below) was up next followed by a beet salad with watermelon, jalapeños and pepitas, and a scallop dish with pancetta, pea shoots, pea puree, and slices of peach that I really wanted to like. However, the peaches were tasteless and with a staggering price of over $40, I didn’t expect it to be oversalted. Nevertheless, we ended up getting dessert (a coffee crème brûlée) because I just happened to flip over the “after dinner” drink menu at the end of the evening. Having lived in Munich for nearly a decade, I was astonished to find a German brandy, Asbach Uralt, on the menu. Pours of this “Weinbrand” for a mere $10? I couldn’t resist ordering a glass.
A Gorgeous Day Visiting “Castle in the Clouds”
Wel, it wasn’t really a castle, but it was a very lovely historic house called the Lucknow Estate that was built in 1914 by Thomas and Olive Plant high up on a mountain overlooking Lake Winnipesaukee. Much of the house was inspired by the arts and crafts movement and the house had a couple of interesting pieces of furniture, as well as state-of-the-art appliances for the time. Castle in the Clouds had not been on my “bucket list” but I like to look at maps and find things for us to do rather than just hiking or day-drinking. Plus, I love touring old houses, so this ended up being a worthwhile visit.
There were gorgeous reading nooks, fireplaces, and decorative window trimmings to behold. There was an enormous laundry room with a sink I would like to have and a pipe organ that someone on our tour decided to play. There were skylights and let’s not forget the views! You could look outside a window and see the lake, and since we were truly “in the clouds” on this blue-sky day, the view was stunning. Dare I mention a “needle shower ” in the owner’s bathroom? Apparently, women were “discouraged” from bathing during this time period, but I think being pelted with all the water emanating from those shower heads might have been fun.
Onto Holderness and Squam Lake
After our tour of the house (as well as the basement which we paid extra for just to get an idea of the inner-workings of this luxury estate), we went in search of lunch. A lobster roll to be precise. We hadn’t originally intended to end up near Squam Lake, but I was intrigued by the reviews of Walter’s Basin Restaurant and the outdoor deck.
Here’s our lobster roll! With outstanding onion rings (not greasy!). And yes, when our server asked how it was, I told her it was one of the top FIVE lobster rolls of all time. She actually blushed! We ate our lobster rolls and watched a couple of boats come in and out of the neighboring marina.
Weir’s Beach, Then Dinner
Driving through Meredith (not much to see except a strange waterfall in the middle of town), we headed over to Weir’s Beach. Much of the town (similar to Lake George) had already shut down for the season. Walking through the town, it reminded me a bit of the old Asbury Park without the boardwalk, but a decent promenade with a view of the lake. I detoured a bit just to take a shot of the Weir’s Beach sign. Campy but cool! (I realized they don’t use an ” ‘s ” on their sign so maybe my spelling is incorrect.)
We headed back to Wolfeboro and walked around town a bit only to discover that most of the shops were already closed. We had made a reservation for dinner that night at Wolfetrap, a seafood place near the hotel. When we arrived for dinner at 6:30 (the last reservation we could get since the restaurant closes at 8 p.m.), we were greeted by a grumpy hostess who practically yelled, “Do you even have a reservation?” We assured her we did and waited a few minutes to sit at a large and somewhat uncomfortable wooden table outside on the deck. We had oysters which were described as “local,” but were actually from Prince Edward Island. (Not that local!) Lynn, for reasons known only to Lynn, ordered swordfish tacos that had a few pieces of fish thrown into a soft flour taco. Luckily, I fared better with a decent swordfish steak. The fact that we were back at the hotel by 8:16 pm., with not much to do for the rest of the evening, was uneventful.
Frank Lloyd Wright In Manchester
The Zimmerman house in Manchester, New Hampshire, had been on my radar for a while. Described on the Currier Museum website as “the only art museum in the world with two Frank Lloyd Wright homes,” tour times and tickets are limited with access to the homes only via the museum’s van. I had read about the Isadore and Lucille Zimmerman house (1950) but was surprised to also have a tour (three houses down) of the recently acquired Kalil house. So when we ended up on the van with a bunch of FLW “groupies,” each offering detailed descriptions of other houses they had seen (mostly in Wisconsin), I felt right at home.
Zimmerman was a doctor who lived in Manchester but decided to “downsize” to a ranch. Luckily, he and his wife were fond of Wright’s aesthetic and the world of Usonian architecture. This house was smaller than other Wright houses we had seen, but the signature Wright details were still there – custom-designed furniture, a galley kitchen, and small glass windows. I was also intrigued by the new-fangled appliances of the 1950’s which included a top-loading dishwasher. Since there was no basement in the house, even the furnace was stuck in a corner of what Wright described as a “workspace” rather than a kitchen.
There was also an open living room with one wall assuming the role of “long couch” and a very unique music stand. I think the Zimmerman’s must have had many lovely musical evenings in this room. Wright even designed a unique mailbox for this house which is still there today.
Mildred and Toufic Kalil House
Built in 1955, the house is one of only seven “Usonian” houses Wright designed. I wanted to like this house and appreciated FLW’s built-in furniture, but the house both inside and outside was constructed with concrete blocks. Although we were encouraged by our tour guides to sit down in the living room, the space reminded me too much of drab concrete buildings that sprang up all over post-war Europe. Here’s a few photographs to give you an idea.
Louis Kahn in Exeter and Following the Remnants of Hurricane Lee in Rockport
Apparently, we had once driven by the Louis Kahn library on the campus of Phillips Exter Academy, but I didn’t remember it! This time, with the help of a student, we managed to get inside the building. The Librarian on duty was not particularly amused by our being inside when students were “on campus.” She then proceeded to scold us and said we needed to make an appointment to visit the library. Suddenly, we were told to leave the building, and when I asked to take some photographs, she said “only one.” I decided to ignore her and quickly took over a dozen shots, but I couldn’t get the photograph I wanted. Why? Because there was an art exhibition in the space and someone had placed what looked like a big ball of chewing gum right in the middle of the famous ceiling.
We had time to kill before lunch, so we decided to drive up to Rockport and look at the water. Hurricane Lee had passed through 24 hours prior, so we were hoping to see some big waves. We got them! Along with a photograph of the “most painted building in the world” also known as Motif No. 1. I remembered we had a magnet on our fridge of this red fishing shack, purchased I believe when the town of Rockport was still “dry” (no alcohol sold or served in restaurants!) I’m glad to report this was abolished a few years ago but the fact that it was a law for over 162 years is mind-boggling.
Salem, Again
We had visited Salem two years ago and thought it was well, interesting. This time around it was very crowded, parking was limited, and we seemed to be surrounded by groups of young women dressed in black and wearing pointy witch hats. We went back to have lunch at a place right on the water where dinner had been decent. This time around our lunch was just okay. We walked around town, avoiding most of the touristy “witch-hunt” sites, and went to see the Peabody Essex Museum.
I liked this museum. Lynn thought the floor plan was difficult to read, but we saw a couple of interesting exhibits. It seems I’m always drawn to the gardens wherever I go, and the Peabody Essex provided a lovely outdoor space with an interesting fountain.
Over the years, we’ve stopped staying at Inns, preferring the anonymity of a larger hotel chain. However, all the hotel rooms in Salem were sold out that weekend and only because of a cancelled reservation a few minutes before I tried to book a room online did I find us a room. We didn’t really have to visit Salem again, but I had wanted to try a fairly new restaurant, Settler, that I had been reading about. Thus, we ended up at the Salem Inn, in a decent-sized room in one of their old houses. Breakfast was included in the room rate, but not only did you have to make a reservation for this meal, but also choose what you wanted to eat when you checked in! I found this tremendously annoying but did as requested. (9:30 a.m. – cheese and mushroom omelets, wheat toast, fruit, coffee.)
Dinner at Settler turned out to be the best meal of the trip. The only disappointment was a Martini that was lack-luster, and the excessive mark-up on the wine list. We ate our way through some lovely meze: tuna crudo with thinly sliced radishes; homemade falafel; a cozy dish of lamb merguez which is usually a sausage, but this was transformed into a meatball; house-made spaghetti with spicy clams; and a perfectly cooked halibut. Finally, we finished off the meal with not one but two desserts – a burnt Basque cheesecake with vanilla gelato and a chocolate tart with pistachio gelato. Was it delicious? Absolutely.
Kennebunkport, Maine, and the Atlantic Ocean
Remember we lived on Long Island for over 30 years so stopping to eat some clams and seeing the Atlantic Ocean shouldn’t have been a big deal. Maybe it was just the unusually warm September day. Or the fact that we were looking forward to seeing the beach again. Whatever it was, we stopped for lunch at Bob’s Clam Hut. There we both had a basket of fried clams but truthfully, we could have split one. It was good, but there was just too much food.
After lunch we drove to Kennebunkport. We had driven through the area two years ago on the way to Camden and I remember seeing people shuffling through town because it was so crowded. Luckily, this time the sidewalks were less busy, and when we checked into our motel, the Seaside Inn, we even managed to get upgraded to an oceanfront room.
We walked on the beach and afterwards just sat on our hotel balcony watching a few boats go by and a “ship-ahoy” themed weathervane spin on the top of a cupola. Actually, now that I look at the exterior shot of the Seaside Inn, it reminded me a bit of a place we used to stay at on Hilton Head Island!
I will only briefly mention dinner that night and our reason for being there in the first place. We had a nearly five-year-old gift certificate to the White Barn Inn that we were determined to use. We were the youngest couple at the restaurant and while the menu looked inspiring, the food that came out (regardless of what we ordered) had too much salt or cream or crunchy things. We opted for a cheese plate for dessert and were brought out a dish that looked like something a toddler might have cobbled together after standing on a stool to reach the fridge. To assure my readers that I’m not exaggerating, here it is:
Time to Go Home
Inevitably, it’s time to go home. Even when we were both working, we would try to delay the drive back by seeing one more sight and even having one more lunch. This time we decided to avoid I-95 for a while and travel down Route 1 through the towns of Wells, Oqunquit, and York. Along the way we found a roadside bakery and picked up some croissants. Then we found a road sign pointing us to Nubble Lighthouse. Who doesn’t like to see a lighthouse? Apparently, a lot of other people had the same idea that cloudy, gray day. After a mere 10-minute detour, we were awarded with a picturesque shot of this beauty. You actually can’t get to the lighthouse (it’s on a tiny island), but you do get a lovely view from the parking lot.
We drove home in the rain (and yes, stopped for one last lobster roll), hit annoying traffic until we got to Albany, and already started planning our next road trip.
Until our next “Let’s Go” adventure.
If you missed my new collection of short stories, The Camp People, it’s available on Amazon.
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.
My new book, available on Amazon (2/2021) in both paperback and Kindle version, is a food and travel memoir. Written in 2008 (and just published this year), it’s the story of traveling with my husband, Lynn and two children. Canada, California and numerous European countries are some of the places we visit. Join us for the ride.
I often find myself standing in front of the fridge looking at all the magnets I’ve collected on our travels. Sometimes a memory or two comes back from a city we’ve visited, a noteworthy museum or historic house we were lucky enough to see, or a certain dish at a restaurant that was really good. But the moment is fleeting and once I open the fridge, it’s all about business – planning breakfast, lunch and dinner.
The Fridge Door = A Memory Magnet Wall
As my past few blogs this year have revealed, there’s been a lot of cooking and a lot of eating. Lynn has learned how to make soup and pasta and perfected his pizza making. I baked more than I like to and what we didn’t eat, we froze. I finally got around to looking at old cookbooks that had been sitting on my bookshelves for years. And I read new cookbooks as if they were novels. I devoured each page as if it were a dish itself since my days were based on finding “activities” (i.e., making meals) that would not only pass the time but nourish us as well.
All Kinds of Goodies
Memorable Oyster Moments
I discovered my local supermarket carried freshly shucked oysters from Maryland swimming in their natural brine and bought myself a cast iron pan that I hope to eventually use outside on the grill (where it belongs) instead of in the oven. Taking inspiration from Sarah Leah Chase’s recipe in her New England Open House Cookbook, I learned how to put together a decent version of “Oysters Clark Rockefeller.” I made my own creamed spinach (using frozen spinach and half & half) and it came together beautifully with the addition of some grated Jarlsberg on top. Even as I was making this dish, however, I couldn’t help but remember one New Year’s at Leon’s Fine Poultry and Oyster Shop in Charleston, South Carolina. We spent a sunny afternoon there sitting at the bar and eating platters of coal-grilled oysters while sipping Spanish Cava!
It’s About Time For A Hike
In between all the cooking (and eating), we walked as much as we could before the cold weather and the snow started. We found trails in nearby marshes, walked around a few lakes, and into a lot of forests.
There were waterfalls to visit that were close to home and picturesque covered bridges to cross. All of this made me very happy that if we had to “quarantine” any where in the world this is a pretty nice place to do so.
Crackers and Butter, Why Not?
And then I made crackers. It seemed an okay recipe at the time but the dough was a bit dry and even though they came out fine in the end, the sesame seeds didn’t properly adhere to the dough. Guess what, we ate them anyway!
Then I heard about a shop that was making their own butter. I began to follow them on social media and subsequently paid them a visit even though it was a 45-minute drive away. While I thought the concept was unique, I was disappointed with their product. Consequently, a few days later I just whipped up a batch of my own “compounded” butter flavored with pink Himalayan sea salt. Full confession: I over salted my first batch but have containers of heavy cream sitting in the fridge waiting to be whipped into butter again.
Supporting Local Farms and Stocking Up!
Since March 2020, I have tried to support as many local farms and small businesses as possible. When the weather was warmer and we could have lunch outside at a restaurant, we did. Suddenly though, restaurants started closing. Either they weren’t making enough in takeout orders to keep their establishment solvent or unfortunately, they were forced to shut down because one of their employees had tested positive.
One afternoon we were craving a hamburger from a place we had been to before. I called to phone in an order only to listen to a recorded message that said their restaurant was closed “indefinitely.” So, we went home and for dinner that night I made the hamburger and tempura-fried onion rings we both wanted. (No, the burger wasn’t really this tall; I just wanted a dramatic photograph so stacked everything really quickly and hoped it wouldn’t topple over!)
As the weather got colder, we visited many local farms although Lynn gave a thumbs down to buying a pumpkin. Why? Because last year’s was torn to shreds by either a deer or squirrel or both so we bought tons of squash and apples instead.
I also bought a small freezer to stock up on butter and chicken and meat fearing we would face another round of food shortages going into the holiday season. We had absolutely no place to put an extra freezer in our house so it ended up going in the laundry room which works just fine for us.
Golf? Leaf Peeping? Day Trips?
We even bought some old golf clubs hoping to hit a driving range before it closed for the season even though we never did quite make it there. And we drove, sometimes hours, just to look at the leaves changing colors in a state park.
We visited places we had never been (Hamilton College Zen Gardens below). And went to see as many lakes in the Adirondack Park as we could. (And that’s beautiful Bog River Falls at the bottom of Tupper Lake.)
Picnics!
We often brought lunch with us after buying a really cool thermos that we filled with homemade chicken soup. To kick things up a notch, I also tossed in some store-bought tortellini at the last moment which resulted in a pretty decent version of “Tortellini en Brodo.” Lynn was so pleased that I had even packed a tablecloth on one such outing. He probably thought I was trying to be “romantic.” Actually, I was just trying to cover up any bird poop that might be splattered across the picnic table we were eating on.
Suddenly, Winter
And then it snowed. So we shoveled the snow off the deck and hauled the snowblower out of the garage. We just hoped it would start quickly so we could dig out our driveway!
The local kids started to sled down the hill next to our house and every day we would find another pair of discarded gloves or a hat thrown on our lawn.
The cold weather kept us indoors so I made stuffed cabbage and pulled out the sous vide machine to make chicken. I even ate cauliflower even though it has always been my least favorite vegetable. Hint: tossed with pancetta or bacon, some sliced olives, garlic, parsley and Parmesan it actually becomes edible!
TV Time
We started to watch cooking shows in the early evenings (before the grim newscasts about the number of COVID-19 deaths that day) just to get some ideas about different dishes we could make. This resulted in fish baked in parchment on a bed of slow roasted tomatoes with herbs and white beans. Oh and wine, you need lots and lots of white wine for this dish!
I also finally gave in and bought myself a non-stick frying pan just so that I could learn to make a “real” French herb-infused omelette the way I saw Jacques Pépin do on PBS! (It takes a lot longer to make an omelette this way, but I absolutely love the way it just slides out of the pan.)
I even made biscuits!
Then There Was The Meat Slicer
Yes, truly. I grew up in Munich, Germany, where cold cuts are “king” or at least “König-like” so I was comfortable with this new toy. I also wanted to wean Lynn off of unhealthy processed meat lunches and make my own ‘”healthier” protein for him to eat. After this purchase, we started roasting boneless pork roasts, center cuts of beef and huge chicken breasts. Sandwiches were topped with slices of unfortunately tasteless out-of-season tomatoes but spruced up a bit by a homemade mayo and horseradish spread. Salads were lavishly adorned with slices of chicken and ham was cut to order for leisurely and late breakfasts.
And We Talk and Talk (Childhood Stuff Is Frequently Mentioned)
Lynn and I have been fortunate enough to spend a lot of time together, now even more so. Luckily, we rarely run out of topics. We find ourselves remembering things that happened to us growing up. Lynn likes to tell me his “baked good” story even though I’ve heard it a thousand times before. Apparently when he was a young lad, a friend would entice him to go to a local shop to buy a “baked good.” Even though Lynn wasn’t quite sure what a “baked good” was, he went along for the adventure. (If you, too, aren’t quite sure what a “baked good” is, it’s simply something that was baked, i.e., a cookie, cake or cinnamon roll.) I decided to share with him a food memory from one of my many “summers in Whiting” stories.
Similar to his quest for a “baked good,” my summers in Whiting, Indiana, often involved a trip to a local supermarket with my maternal grandfather. There he would pick up some Hostess cupcakes and I learned from him the proper cupcake eating etiquette. One had to gently nibble first on the waxy chocolate frosting with the decorative white squiggle on top before digging into the cake portion beneath it.
Of course I overcompensate with all this nostalgic memory stuff by making French toast for breakfast one morning using leftover brioche and topped with some raspberries and local maple syrup. And for lunch? Well, I find a recipe I’ve been wanting to make for an Austrian apple cake and decide why make just one cake when you can make two? (We are not total gluttons, we eat one for lunch and freeze the other.)
These days we try to be upbeat but do worry about our adult children, my parents and other family members. To get out of the house we often visit a local farm. There we buy cheese, chicken livers if available, as well as lamb and veal. We freeze everything for future meals and on the way out, we take pictures of Jones Family Farm goats.
Embracing The Gray and the Holidays, Too
We spend Thanksgiving by ourselves, having decided as a family that it was too dangerous to get together now that we couldn’t totally socially distance or be outdoors. Since there was no need to make a turkey for the two of us (we had homemade lasagna instead), I suddenly had an entire afternoon on Thanksgiving Day with absolutely nothing to do! What did I do to pass the time? I decided to cut my hair!
As a woman of a certain age, I have embraced my gray hair and even more so since it’s actually turning a funky shade of silver! And since a visit to the hairdresser as well as a nail salon are big no-no’s for me, I just snipped off about two inches myself. Here’s the new me right after we put up our Christmas tree.
We celebrated Christmas alone as well which meant it was the first time we had spent a holiday without either of our children. We “make do” by eating platters of deviled eggs topped with salmon roe and some fresh dill. And the pâté? Well, that was tucked into little “nests” that I had crafted from the leftover sesame cracker dough.
See that mother-of-pearl caviar spoon? I was lucky enough to purchase it at a restaurant in Paris one year after a very delicious lunch. Sigh, I do miss our European adventures!
And Last But Not Least, Our Final Bathroom
Since we are home indefinitely, we also decided to tackle another (and hopefully last) big home repair project. Normally, this would not have been an article I would have covered here, but since we are not traveling or dining out, I think the “Let’s Go!” blog can make an exception to my own rule.
We had put off renovating this final bathroom for reasons we can’t even remember. When the kids and their spouses/partners come to visit, it becomes “their” bathroom. It was functional but old and dated. It was time.
So, we went to the “Big Box” store one more time, bought some tile and a new vanity and toilet that will be installed by some subcontractors. When we approached one subcontractor about also updating our bath/shower combo and asked him for an estimate, he responded with a number that was astronomically high. (His fee for this small bathroom redo was about the price of a used car!) Obviously we said no and started to plan to demolish and renovate the bathroom ourselves. After a few false starts and a couple of returns (vanity faucets to be precise), we tallied up the receipts and have spent a little under $300!
The fake marble paneling on the walls came down, and after much trial-and-error we managed to remove the bathtub faucets, too. Hint: white wine vinegar and a special $9 tool! What to see the “Pro Puller?”
To this day I still marvel at Lynn’s drawings and am really truly thankful he can do most of this renovation with a little help from me. This approach also saves us a ton of money!
In the meantime since I’m a trooper, I’m outside in the freezing cold helping him saw pieces of wood so we can build a wall.
Which we did!
Eventually the old drywall will come down around the tub but we needed to put up the wall before the new floor is laid.
Would I rather be traveling and eating oysters at a bar somewhere rather than renovating a bathroom? You betcha! Do I need a few more magnets to add to the “memory wall” on the fridge? Absolutely! As a matter of fact, I hope in the years to come that we can add more than a few to our collection.
Here’s to a happy, peaceful, and most of all healthy New Year everyone.
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. ”
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.
While I wasn’t a big “I Love Lucy” fan, I did understand the appeal of the show and her character. Therefore, when I found out earlier this summer that there was a museum devoted entirely to her career in her hometown of Jamestown, NY, I thought it might be worth a visit.
The Lucille Ball Desi Arnaz Museum is actually housed in two store-front buildings in downtown Jamestown, NY. I think the museum does a pretty good job showcasing not only her career but the relationship she had with Desi in producing the show. It was also fun to see some of the (recreated) stage sets they used during the filming.
Looking at the old issues of TV guide, I got a sense of how very popular she was during the 1950’s not to mention the countless movies (over 80!) she did even before the show!
I was particularly thrilled to learn she also was the first woman to run a major television production studio (Desilu Productions) that she retained even after she and Desi divorced.
On the way out of town we also paid a visit to the cemetery where she is buried. I have to assume the cemetery staff got tired of having to explain to countless visitors where her plot was located since they thought of a clever way to lead one to her. (Hint: follow the red hearts!)
Next Stop: Chautauqua Institution
While I had read about Chautauqua and all the programs they offer during the summer, until we moved full-time to the Mohawk Valley driving there from Long Island just wasn’t going to work for us.
Earlier in the summer I came across a play “One Man, Two Guvnors” that was being performed by the Chautauqua Theater Company and it sounded really fun so we got tickets for a Sunday matinee. (It’s a British play that premiered in London in 2011 based on a 1743 Italian comedy.)
Never having visited Chautauqua, I wasn’t sure what to expect. 1. I knew there was a religious component to the organization but I also knew there were lots of educational things (lectures, art classes, plus theatre and music events that one could attend. 2. I didn’t realize how big the place was (kind of like a small town) and that you could actually live there for the summer.
I did enjoy walking around and seeing the Victorian-style houses and we even walked into the Athenaeum Hotel to get a glimpse at the inside. (It’s less posh inside than it looks on the outside.
I also enjoyed looking at the flowers (lots and lots of flowers) that lined many of the walkways and in the gardens of many of the houses.
So bottom line, we enjoyed our visit and the play very much. And if next summer the theatre company puts on a play that we might like to see, I would definitely make the now not-so-distant journey. (It’s about a 4.5 hour drive as opposed to a 7 hour drive!)
Dinner on Lake Erie
I’m allowed to be a snob when it comes to Italian-American restaurants. My husband, Lynn, is first generation Italian-American (his mother was a WWII bride from Naples, Italy) and the true Italian food she cooked tasted nothing like what is being served in “Italian” restaurants even 40 years after I first met her.
So when I found a restaurant on Lake Erie that kind of had the feel of an Italian-American “red sauce” joint but the menu proved to be so very different, I was cautiously optimistic.
It was a Sunday night in the summer and there in the town of Hamburg, New York, with a view of Lake Erie is Lucia’s on the Lake. We had luckily made a dinner reservation that happened to coincide perfectly with the sunset that evening. Plus we were seated at a high table in the bar where the (noisy) party people were hanging out but at least we had a view.
Here’s our view that night:
And really, if you ignore the power lines, it was really very pretty. The food I have to say was amazing but pricey. So if you can skip ordering the high ticket items, go for some great cooking, a decent wine list and a view overlooking Lake Erie that can’t be beat.
I had the halibut, shrimp and clam special over linguine and Lynn, well, Lynn insisted he was ordering the beef “Stroganoff.” Last time I saw that on the menu was probably in the 1980’s at the original Russian Tea Room in New York City. That dish practically screams “winter” in my mind but sometimes the guy just has to eat meat. (I tasted it and the dish was really delicious but too heavy for me.)
Graycliff – a Frank Lloyd Wright Design
We had reserved tickets nearly 1 month in advance to tour Graycliff, a house that Frank Lloyd Wright built in the late 1920’s for Isabelle and Darwin Martin overlooking Lake Erie. We had visited the Martin house in Buffalo last year but never got around to seeing their “modest” lake home. (Mr. Martin worked for the Larkin Company which was a huge soap manufacturer in the late 1800’s.)
The house is now owned by a group called the Graycliff Conservancy. This non-profit was responsible for saving the property in the late 1990’s. It had been sold by the Martin family to a group of Hungarian priests in the 1950’s who established a boarding school on the grounds and the priests, unfortunately, took it upon themselves to make some cosmetic and structural changes to the complex.
Like many other Frank Lloyd Wright houses we’ve seen, there were massive renovations to be done to bring the house back to its original grandeur. While the Conservancy is not quite there yet (funding obviously being a big issue), they have accomplished enough I thought to give visitors like ourselves a glimpse into life on the lake during the “roaring 20’s.”
They’ve just started landscaping some of the front areas of the house and are still trying to furnish the house with authentic period pieces. A tour of the kitchen revealed this incredibly interesting sink. It seems that Isabelle was an avid gardener and loved having fresh flowers everywhere in the house. She had this sink designed so that when she was bringing in cut flowers to make arrangements, she could stand them up and give them a sip of water to boot. I think this is one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen.
So this summer our “bucket” list got a bit shorter by visiting this Frank Lloyd Wright gem. We loved touring the house and hearing all the tales of the family who lived there.
On June 27, 2019, we moved permanently up to what I affectionately call “The Red House.” I spent nine years writing about the home renovation project and now it’s time for me to write about something else. (You can check out previous posts about The Red House renovation on http://theredhouseproject.eathappy.net/). Hopefully this blog will also capture your attention and be a fun read.
We hired the same movers that we used the last time we moved. Three years prior, three guys showed up, two of whom were from Hungary. I was horrified that the truck they drove had some really ugly graffiti scrawled on it – not even funky graffiti!
This time around, three weeks before we were scheduled to move, I received an early morning phone call from the sales guy. “Could we possibly move the weekend before?” he inquired. I told him “no,” and then asked why? Seems there’s lots and lots of traffic on Thursdays in and out of the city. I reminded him we were not going in or out of the city. We were moving from Long Island to upstate New York and avoiding the city at all costs. I further reminded him I had booked his services 3 months in advance (April to be precise) because they had done a good job in the past and June 27 was the only day I could reasonably move. He said he would talk to his dispatcher and get back to me.
By the time I got into my office, I was seething. Obviously, he had received a more lucrative gig on that particular Thursday than a measly house move with a 4 hour there, 4 hour back commute and he just wanted the bigger sale. I sent him a not-so-kind letter indicating that I knew this was in fact the case and if they were going to cancel on me, I needed to know ASAP so I could hire a different mover.
When all was said and done they didn’t cancel. There was some hemming and hawing about talking to the “dispatcher.” And that was that.
This time one guy showed up around 9:15 a.m. and said the truck was about an hour behind since they had to leave Brooklyn and could only take local streets to get to us. I said I understood and he began taking things apart and carrying them down to the driveway. He was Russian but spoke English with only a slight accent and talked to me about working as a photographer in between moving gigs.
About an hour later, two other guys (one Russian who barely spoke English and the other American) showed up in a rented truck that was bright yellow and surprisingly clean.
We had done quite a good job of packing up plates and glasses, books and pictures and taking them up to the house ourselves so the sole box they had to carry was the TV! We had even managed to put all of our clothes (still on hangers no less) into our luggage! All I can say is I’m really glad we have so many suitcases!
If you’re wondering why we have so many suitcases (eight to be precise), it’s because one year we decided to train travel between London and Paris rather than fly or rent a car. Since I will splurge on restaurants and decent hotels but not on cabs or car service, I knew we would be schlepping luggage up and down subway stairs. I needed a suitcase that could hold enough clothes for a week that I could carry up and down a flight of stairs without asking Lynn for help. Hence, I kept buying suitcases in different sizes until I found the perfect one (hint: it’s the purple one.)
Besides the luggage, we decided to keep only a few pieces of furniture since the Red House was pretty much furnished already (we did keep our living room set and our bedroom furniture.) Therefore, I thought this was surely an easy peasy move. Then there was the piano.
We had debated whether to even take the piano with us but the fact is it was more difficult to try and sell it then to take it with us. Factor in that no one played the piano (except our son Nicholas) and that was usually only on Christmas…it did seem dumb to take it with us.
The movers saved taking the piano down the stairs as their last item. It had made it up the staircase, surely it would make it down, right? Three guys, much grunting and a baseball size hole in one wall when they misjudged the turn and finally the piano was out of the house and onto the truck.
The movers left at 11:30 a.m. We stopped to get gas and a sandwich for the road and followed them about 1/2 an hour later. Of course there was traffic all the way up. 1. It was the start of summer vacation (myself included) and 2. There was no 2. There was just a lot of traffic.
Around 3:45 p.m., we were still on the road with nearly an hour to go when I got a phone call from one of the movers to say they had JUST reached the Thruway in Yonkers and it had taken them nearly 4 hours and 15 minutes just to get to that point! Yikes I thought. He then said Google maps said they would be at our house by 6:10 p.m. but he would call to let me know.
We arrived at the Red House, briefly started putting some stuff away and because I am ALWAYS THINKING ABOUT FOOD, I got back in the car and drove down to the supermarket to pick up some steaks thinking we could always throw a steak on the grill no matter how late it got.
Then we sat and waited.
It’s lovely we have a decent deck with pretty flowers and bamboo to look at when we’re passing the time especially since we obviously didn’t want to start happy hour BEFORE THE MOVERS SHOWED UP. At 6:45 p.m. I called the movers and asked them where they were – 20 minutes I was told.
Let me preface this by saying I showed the movers a picture of the Red House since everyone simply drives by it. There are two reasons for this. 1. We live right next to a community field so you come upon the Red House suddenly. 2. We live halfway up a pretty steep grade so the inclination (for any driver I would think) is to keep on going to make sure your vehicle makes it up the hill.
At 7:10 p.m., we saw the yellow truck whiz on by. Lynn and I stood up from our comfy chairs on the deck and started to wave. We heard the truck stop and slowly back down the slope and finally, pull into the driveway. One of the movers said, “I’m glad you showed me a picture of the Red House!”
An hour later they had unloaded the truck, put all the furniture where we wanted it and were back on the road. They had started before 9 a.m. this morning and were facing easily a 5 or 6 hour drive back to Brooklyn. We tipped the two guys generously (case in point: the lead guy had already advised me when we were still on Long Island what his minimum acceptable tip would be for this long trip so we upped it). I also gave them a couple more bottles of water and a container of bakery brownies I had picked up when I went to get the steaks for dinner. They were appreciative of all the goodies and the tip. We were finally moved and I did not envy their 16 hour day. Did I mention it was the hottest day of the year to date?
As the steaks grilled, we opened a bottle of wine and other than a quiet “cheers,” we were actually speechless.
And that’s the beginning of our “Let’s Go” adventure.
Here we are a week later (July 2019) still smiling!
