Travel, food, and some stories of life in the Mohawk Valley.
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.
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.
Since Lynn retired from MoMA we don’t visit as many museums as we had in the past. However, now that we live in Central New York, it’s much more convenient to get to places in Massachusetts and Vermont than when we lived on Long Island. Case in point a few weekends ago we decided to have a short overnight road trip to Wiliamstown, MA. We had never been to see The Clark Art Institute in Williamstown and if we had been to Mass MoCA in nearby North Adams, MA, we didn’t remember it.
The morning of our departure, we woke up to an ice storm that made even venturing out of the house difficult (slippery stairs and a car coated in a sheet of ice).
This gave us a later start than we wanted but eventually, after scraping off the ice and navigating some pretty slippery roads, we were on our way.
The Clark Art Institute
I didn’t expect the building to be modern nor the campus (140 acres) to be so large. Besides the museum itself there is a research center and some hiking trails. We were there specifically to see “Travels on Paper” since we are active travelers and like to see where others have been.
Had I paid more attention to the literature on their website I would have realized it was not a contemporary show but rather artists from the late 1770’s to 1880’s! Not wanting to discredit early attempts at photography or charcoal drawings, I was impressed by how difficult it was for people to travel back then. Often getting to such exotic places (Africa, Hawaii, Egypt, Italy) before decent means of transportation was not only lengthy but arduous and often dangerous.
I found myself focusing on the photographs or drawings of places I had been primarily because I was interested in what certain landscapes looked like 100+ years prior to when we had been there. Hence, this charming watercolor of the famous cliffs of Étretat in Normandy by French artist Eugène Edouard Soulès.
Since Lynn and I had been to see the cliffs and the Normandy beaches with our children one year (2003), I was delighted to see that the artist not only had a blue sky, but also a blue ocean view that day! I suppose he could have fudged a little; maybe it had been a gray day then, too, but isn’t it lovely the artist painted these scenes in various shades of blue?
This was our view that day:
A pink and gray sky with some moss-covered gray rocks and gray water. It was perfect.
Even the title of the show, “Travels on Paper” made me think of all the traveling we have done together. And most importantly, how we capture the trip both photographically and often with the written word in blogs such as this one.
As we walked through the show, I found myself repeatedly captivated by places that somehow looked familiar. Had we been there? Or was it a place that looked similar to other sites we had seen.
I loved this watercolor by a British artist I had never heard of, William Gawin Herdman (1805-1882). The piece is titled “Fantasy Archway with Strolling Couple.”
The arch looks almost like a stage set, a prop. Where does the arch lead to? What do the couple see on the other side besides the trees in the distance? The closest I came in my many travels of seeing a similar-looking arch was in Les Baux, in the Provence region of France.
I remember walking around Les Baux one very hot summer day overwhelmed by both the ruins and the heat. Truthfully, I would have preferred to be the woman in the painting, strolling leisurely through the archway, holding the arm of my beloved, even with the long dress!
MASS MoCA
From The Clark we stopped for a bite to eat at a local restaurant then headed into North Adams to visit MASS MoCA. We thought we had been there before but truthfully didn’t remember the building perhaps confusing the venue with Dia Beacon on the Hudson River. I was impressed with the use of the old factory buildings and wish in the town I live in now (on the Mohawk River) that some of the similar-looking factory buildings could be converted to art spaces, too.
Rainy, gray days are perfect for visiting art museums. I love walking through gallery spaces, looking at the often vibrant art on the wall only to peer outside and watch the rain fall or the wind blow things around. There were also old passageways the museum had retained when designing the space that led from one building to another.
One of its first tenants was a company called Arnold Print Works, a manufacturer of printed textiles. The floors we walked on and the big rooms that now house art held large scale equipment back then. We were often reminded of the people who truly labored here. After all it was a factory and accidents often happened with sometimes grave consequences.
We had come specifically to MASS MoCA to see the Annie Lennox show, “Now I Let You Go…” If you are not familiar with Annie Lennox, she is the Scottish singer-songwriter of Eurythmics fame. But first we wandered through some of the galleries. Here are some Sol LeWitt pieces which I’m fond of not only for the use of his bright crayon-like color palette but his geometric forms.
Then we walked into a large hall and got to look at the amazing sculptures of South African artist Ledelle Moe. Her large forms were so engaging and life-like (even in their reclining mode) that even though I know you are NOT SUPPOSED TO TOUCH THE ARTWORK, I struggled to keep my hands in my coat pockets. I wanted to not only feel the forms but run my hands over these figures in hopes of emotionally capturing the incredible strength of her work.
Her work in this exhibit entitled “When” reminded me of the countless monuments we would see not only when we traveled through Europe, but statues with water features we discovered closer to home. This funny looking guy is from a visit last summer to the Sonnenberg Gardens and Mansion in Canandaigua, NY.
And then I saw the heads. They were just hanging on a wall, similar to death masks and looked to be randomly placed. I’m sure the artist wouldn’t welcome my thoughts on “random placement” but I liked this evocative piece immensely.
I thought of our own meager “head” collection at home. Simple clay or wood faces we had picked up along the way when traveling through Italy.
Then there was Jenny Holzer. Lynn was familiar with her work from MoMA but I was not. I found myself mesmerized by her repetitive texts in various languages. Particularly when she writes that “change is the basis of all history.” I love that line. Along with “stale food is repellent” which speaks to my love of cooking.
When we finally got to the Annie Lennox show, I had to walk around it a few times. First to really understand it. The obviously easy part was looking at the “trophy room” filled with awards and copies of her platinum and gold albums.
The more intellectually challenging component was to understand her “mountain” of collective things. There, assembled on what looked like a mixture of sand and gravel, were important pieces from not only her childhood but her children’s too.
The fact that the title of the show “Now I Let You Go” references our inability as humans to discard “things” that often have emotional significance wasn’t lost on me. Lynn and I have moved six times since 1985. Each time we have moved we have managed to throw a bit more away of our “significant things,” thereby reducing our clutter. Except a few boxes that are in the attic right now – our son’s Hess trucks, his wooden train set, our daughter’s favorite stuffed animals plus the dress she wore for her first Christmas. I haven’t been able to “let go” of their childhood just yet even though they are now both adults.
Case in point: how could we ever throw away this note our daughter scribbled on hotel stationery when we were traveling in Florence one summer? The answer is, you can’t.
It was nearly 29 years ago when we first traveled from Long Island to Maine and New Brunswick with our then 1-year-old son strapped in a car seat in the smallest car I think Chevrolet ever made (the Sprint). It was actually so small (I’m pretty tall and Lynn is too) that we even nicknamed the Sprint “Sprint Junior” just to make fun of its tiny size.
This time we started out from upstate New York (already saving us probably at least 3 hours) avoiding that awful stretch of I-95 going through Connecticut. Our first stop was in Essex, MA, for amazing lobster rolls at an old school joint called Essex Seafood. I mean look at this handwritten menu tacked onto the wall!
The lobster was sweet, minimally dressed and the side order of onion rings were pretty decent, too. I’d also like to personally thank many of my Instagram foodies who shared that find with me!
Overnight in Portland, Maine
We hadn’t been to Portland in at least 20 years and frankly, we didn’t remember a single thing. We walked around near the harbor area but weren’t that impressed.
There were a couple of restaurants and bars and the usual coffee places but there seemed to be an overwhelming number of tourist places all selling the same trinkets. Actually anything that had a lobster on it seemed to be a guaranteed sale. Lobster key rings? Check. Lobster potholders? Double check.
Dinner that night was at Fore Street – a restaurant that didn’t disappoint in its open kitchen concept as well as the incredible wood-burning smell of everything they were cooking.
The menu was very creative. Squid with eggplant and green beans followed by grilled foie gras on a slice of homemade zucchini bread! Who does that?
Second course up: Fresh blue fin tuna with peppers and grilled corn. A tasty dish but a small portion I thought for the price tag. (Yes, look at it, it was about 2 .5 bites!)
Finally, Lynn and I split a fresh berry cobbler topped with a biscuit-like dough (not my favorite but more on biscuits later) and a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Doesn’t that look absolutely delicious though?
On the way out, stopping to say “thanks” to the chefs working the line in the open kitchen, I was told by a not-so-friendly wait staffer that I was “not allowed” to be there or to talk to them! What? Cooking is a thankless job but I made sure the chefs working that night heard me compliment them on their exceptional talent. And at least I got a smile out of a few of them.
Before we left Portland the next morning, we stopped to see the lighthouse. Apparently, we had missed it the first time and the weather was absolutely perfect to get a great photograph!
On To Saint John, New Brunswick
We stopped for lunch outside of Bangor, Maine, and started with a seafood “chowdah” brimming with haddock, clams, shrimp and lobster. I moved on to eat a lobster BLT with avocado and Lynn held out for a traditional lobster roll. It was pretty darn good.
We had never been to Saint John and stayed at a hotel on the rather ugly waterfront. (This apparently is turning out to be a theme on this road trip.) Here, however, at least someone had attempted to create some “artwork” along the way. I particularly liked the random fish sculptures that were scattered around the downtown area.
We walked into a park, King’s Square, and found what appeared to be a Victorian-era band stand. Although when I looked at it, it kind of reminded me of a squat version of the Chinese Tower (Chinesischer Turm) in Munich’s Englischer Garten.
I have to segue just a bit. I really wanted to find a picture of Munich’s Chinese Tower and post it here but I realized that all the pictures I probably took of it were WAY BEFORE THE CLOUD! What? And yeah, I could drag out an old CD, pop it into my laptop and then spend hours looking for that one photograph. Or, I could just walk downstairs and find the one photo album I needed and just take a picture of the darn thing.
So here it is: My own photograph of the Chinesischer Turm in Munich, Germany, shot in the winter of 1979. Pretty cool right? And if you just look at the top two “towers,” you may see the same resemblance I did. And yeah, it took me a mere 3 minutes to walk down the stairs, find the photo album, flip open the page, shoot the picture, walk back upstairs and upload the shot.
Dinner At East Coast Bistro
When I tell you we had some of the best mussels EVER for dinner that night at East Coast Bistro, I’m not exaggerating. First of all, these mussels were from the Bay of Fundy which is the closest body of water to the town of Saint John and hence the restaurant. Spiced up with an intensely flavored coconut hot sauce with leeks on top, I’m still tasting (and dreaming) about this dish today. Second course I had was a fresh halibut with asparagus, pickled onions and arugula on top.
Yummy! Finally, since I had mentioned it was my birthday week – look what they brought out for me! Lovely homemade vanilla ice cream with a lemon tart topped with meringue. Also, I got to meet Chef Kim Steele and crew which was a nice treat.
Breakfast? What Breakfast?
One of my pet peeves of traveling these days is not being able to find a decent breakfast in the morning without A) driving out of our way and B) paying way too much money. I’m also not a fan of hotel buffets (unless it’s a really decent hotel). Or standing in line to scoop lukewarm scrambled eggs out of a chafing dish and then stand in another line to toast store-bought muffins.
I also like my breakfasts to be pretty simple. Eggs are a must but I don’t particularly like sausage for breakfast. But I’m okay with bacon but only one slice! And yes, I, too, fell for the avocado on toast thing. But then I stopped eating bread at breakfast for a while and I wasn’t crazy about just eating a “naked” avocado.
Hash browns or any kind of potato actually are also a definite no-no. You’re probably thinking, wow, it seems she doesn’t even like breakfast at all! But I do, I do, it just needs to be really simple and preferably served with a little bit of fresh fruit. (But only certain fruit.) Okay, I know I’m more than a little particular about my breakfasts.
I also won’t go into how I would prefer a croissant over a biscuit any day because my Dad, Larry, is one of my best blog readers and after he reads this he will probably be sending me hourly recipes for biscuits! (Love you Dad!) If you haven’t checked out any of his books, he is a funny writer and his books make great gifts, too. Side note: he LOVES biscuits and pie!
I also won’t go into my love/hate relationship with bagels. Well, okay, if you insist. I only like plain ones (and prefer mini bagels over full-sized ones) and also only buy bagels from certain stores. Recently Lynn and I decided pizza for breakfast would be a good idea but then wimped out at the last minute and got Italian pastries and cappuccino’s instead. (This photograph was from a recent trip to Montreal.)
Consequently, the next morning in our search for a bite to eat – a coffee, a donut, a bagel, a something, we walked around downtown Saint John and came up with zilch. We ended up back at the hotel, walked into the dining room and looked at a room filled with people who were drinking coffee. My breakfast “radar” went up. I realized no one had a plate in front of them which meant they had been waiting for their breakfasts a really, really long time.
I decided to be brave, ordered a simple omelette with toast and coffee and then we proceeded to wait. We got lucky. Apparently, the chefs working the line that morning cook everything at once since everyone’s food came out at the same time. So even though we were the last ones in that morning, our food came out as well. Timing is everything.
Since I didn’t take a picture of the omelette or my lousy coffee, I will leave you with some photos of some truly great breakfasts! (Regardless of my rantings above, I really do love breakfast!)
The best omelette you will ever eat. Courtesy of Les Deux Magots in Paris.
The best scones you will ever eat. Courtesy of The Langham Hotel in London. (Note: we did NOT stay there because it was outrageously expensive but went once for Easter brunch.)
The best farmer’s market to enjoy some pastries (and breakfast). Courtesy of the Byward Market in Ottawa.
I mean, even riding the Eurostar between London and Paris we had a decent croissant!
Finally, my new commuting life allows me not only to photograph my sucky”breakfast” at my desk but also share it with my husband, Lynn and my readers. If you’re wondering what it is – here’s more than a clue: Pepperidge Farm white bread, a slice of Munster cheese (or if I’m feeling really adventurous Havarti), a smear of butter laced with olive oil and either green or red grapes. Followed by weak office coffee. Awesome, right?
Until our next “Let’s Go” adventure.
In 1969 I moved to Munich, Germany, with my parents and younger brother for the first time. We lived in two different apartments before we moved to a house in the suburbs. A few years later we moved back to Long Island, New York, where we stayed less than a year (I was in 5th grade at the time) and then moved back to Munich again. In total we were there nearly 10 years.
I attended a U.S. Department of Defense school (elementary, junior high and high school) in an area of Munich known as Perlacher Forst. School was a configuration of buildings set in the middle of the housing complex for those serving in the Armed Forces. It was its own village with a movie theater, a post-exchange (PX) shopping center and a hospital.
Public transportation (notably the S-bahn) was a quick walk from school which enabled me when I was in high school to cut school when necessary or in most cases get to work quickly.
By the time I was 16, I was already working weekends at a Baskin-Robbins across from the Hofbrauhaus in Munich. I remember mainly dealing with drunk Americans who bizarrely wanted something sweet (that would be ice cream I guess) after they had consumed massive amounts of beer. Isn’t that a cute picture of me looking so focused when scooping ice cream? I love the fact that my “blouse” matches the signage!
After that job, I landed a job at McDonald’s right near the Karlstor. After a brief stint on the french fry machine, it was decided for me that I would be better as a cashier. I worked there every single weekend for nearly 2 years. If you look at the tower on the right side of the photograph, McDonald’s was originally on the other side of the “Tor.”
And yes, the rainy gray day pictured here was typical of Munich weather! It was nearly always cloudy with a 99% percent chance of rain and 100% gray skies guaranteed. My fondest memories of Munich though was all the walking I did daily (before counting steps on an app was the thing!). Plus, I loved the fact that I was surrounded by amazing art and architecture.
I know this is the famous “tourist” shot of Munich’s Rathaus (City Hall) but look it’s sunny and it is in fact a pretty building.
On Saturday mornings, I loved to walk through the center of town, do some shopping, and visit the Viktualienmarkt. I think to this day that’s the reason I love farmer’s markets so much! Look at these gorgeous vegetables and flowers!
Here’s a picture of the last two houses we lived in (we literally moved around the corner) before I left Munich to attend Syracuse University in 1979.
I have been back to Munich a few times since then, the last time for my 35th high school reunion. When I visited the last house we lived in (pictured above), it looked kind of run down. Each time I visit Munich is bittersweet and filled with too many memories.
The tennis courts where I had a few lessons and played with some of my Dad’s co-workers (he worked across the street at Radio Free Europe) are still there.
And the surf boarders are still “surfing” the waves on the the Isar River in the center of Munich. I think this didn’t come about though until after I left Munich since I spent a lot of time at the Haus Der Kunst (right next to where this “surfing” is happening) and I would have remembered that.
When visiting Munich, there’s always the desire to grab a bite to eat at the places we always ate in but the “foodie” in me always wants to try something new. Here’s a surprise: I don’t particularly like German food that much. Yes, schnitzel is okay (ditto for beer and a pretzel) and you could give me a bowl of “Leberknödel suppe” (liver dumpling soup) anytime. I know that probably sounds really disgusting but trust me, it’s really good!
But truthfully, I’d rather have a nice piece of fish with an “apfel strudel” chaser.
Speaking of dessert, specifically pastries, even though I’m not a big sweets person (and my Instagram followers know that while I can bake, I find it tedious), I will always stop and take a picture of a bakery counter in any country. Look at these delicious yummy treats!
A few times growing up my mother Irene and I would go to the ballet or the opera, the Opera House in Munich being an exceptionally grand building in which to see such performances. We would dress up and during intermission walk the mirror-lined hallways that always reminded me of Versailles. When I was younger, my preferred intermission “refreshment” was a bowl of vanilla ice cream that had warm berries spooned on top. Once I got older I would have a glass of champagne AND the same warm berry and cold ice cream treat.
Recently at the cheese festival in Little Falls, NY, I ran into Lynne who runs farmerstreetpantry.com . I met her last year and was intrigued by what she was selling – homemade mincemeat! Since my parents are the only ones I know who would make a traditional mincemeat pie for Thanksgiving in addition to the usual apple and pumpkin, I thought her product would hit the spot. (It did.)
This year in addition to the mincemeat, she had added some salad dressings, apple sauce and spiced cherries to her product line. Spiced cherries! Made with maple syrup and red wine? YUMMY.
I was impressed but I also had to tell her my berries on ice cream opera story. Ironically she said she remembered me from last year because I had told her a similar (unrelated to cherries) food memory. (She probably thinks I’m a nut, but whatever.)
I’m always happy when traveling to see this simple dessert appear on a menu and to this day it remains one of my favorite after dinner treats.
These days my visits to Munich are every five years (if I’m lucky) but more often a decade will go by before I return “home.” Travel has always been the “magic pill” that truly excites me. For that I’m extremely thankful. It’s probably also the reason why I love to write about food and travel so much. So for now that’s a little bit of history about my life in Munich.
Until our next “Let’s Go” adventure.