Welcome to Leftovers! These are mini blogs that are sort of like “bonus” content for The Farmers Market and The Library. I will be doing two each month, arriving every other Sunday. These are food stories or lessons that were “left on the cutting floor” in my planning of this project. The food stories don’t necessarily have a recipe, but was still worth sharing in hope of getting you to think about your own history with meals. And, on the weeks I share a lesson, I will be flipping my parameters on “The Library” part of the project and will actually give advice— or at least, share the things that are really working for me.
Growing up, late summer always included a trip to Lake Michigan. My parents fell in love with the area as “DINKs” (Duel Income, No Kids) in Chicago in the eighties. They would take long weekends across the lake and even travel there in the winter’s for cross country skiing. When kids came along, the trips continued to small beach towns like Saugatuck and Pentwater every summer.
We loved the small town’s classic ice cream shops, mini golf courses, and dancing to outdoor bands in gazebos offering family friendly summer entertainment. There were excursions for a sand dune buggy ride or a visit to an orchard, but for the most part, we just stayed at the rental house on the lake my mom would have coordinated.
A family of water bugs, the beach was all we needed to be happy. We would build sand castles and ride the waves, if it was breezy, or just float on the days the water was glass. Most nights included a fire on the beach as we watched the big ball of sun sink lower and lower over the broad horizon, until it was just a sliver, and then gone entirely.
Because of all this time at the house and because it was a house, we rarely ate out. In fact, we rarely ate out as a kid at all. Even on “bigger” vacations from Disney to Breckenridge, Palm Springs to Kiawah, there were maybe one or two “fun” dinners planned; but, we were often in a house rental/time share situation there, too. (Because of this, I still thrill at just the idea of a poolside snack bar french fry.)
Instead, most every vacation we took, included a big grocery shop. And, what a thrill these were, too.
There was something exciting about being in a new grocery store. Especially if it was a different, regional brand of grocery store. (Bonus points for a funny name like “Piggly Wiggly.”) Normal grocery shopping “rules” were sort of thrown out the window for this shop. My parents didn’t put up a fight on sugary cereal, fancy ice cream novelties were always secured, and we all got to pick out the kind of chips we wanted. As the house that was normally stocked with “weird food” like blue corn chips, fruit leather, and almonds this was very, very exciting.
As far as meals go, we had a bit of a vacation playlist. Mom and Dad knew what didn’t require too many ingredients and wouldn’t produce too many leftovers. The menu included easy to prepare meals and were things that were kind of the “high hits” of the things we ate at home so that everyone would be happy. Think things that were great for grilling like a protein and veggie or two that mom might pick up at the farmers market on her own while we all swam. There was often burgers and some sort of pasta night. I have memories of tacos and the occasional take out pizza for the last night there… left overs as the next morning’s breakfast before heading home.
Finishing off some ice cream the morning we flew home from Palm Springs.
For lunches, it was simple stuff. Our fun chips, seasonal fruit from the local farm stands that mom would seek out, and just deli meat sandwiches. But, there was something so satisfying and something that hit different in a turkey sandwich on vacation than at home.
It was part normal, part novel. Maybe it was its simplicity. Or, maybe it was because after a morning of playing on the shores of Lake Michigan, a break for a meal (and for our sun kissed shoulders and swimming-tired legs) was needed. Maybe it was because a meal like lunch was hardly every shared with all five of us together— our normal days busy with our own worlds of work and school.
I think that is why, despite some very special meals out when traveling, these vacation meals stand out the most. We were together from the shop to the dining. The meals were fun, relaxed, and lingered as we laughed and talked. We could be cozy—needed after a long day in the sun— instead of on our best behavior out waiting for a table at a restaurant. At these meals, we were permitted to just be us, but more so… us together.
Meals as a family are rare. You can do your best, but in the whole, big scheme of life there are only a handful that you get to share with your parents and your siblings. And when those meals don’t have the noise of other people, work, practice, and homework there is something there that is so special.
When I think of those few years I got to share meals with my family, I my mind often takes me to a table on the screened-in porch, the sound of gentle waves hitting the Michigan shore, and dappled light lowering through the trees. Maybe it’s a burger or piece of salmon on my plate. Maybe it’s just a turkey sandwich. It doesn’t matter. It’s still one of my best food memories.
No Dad in the picture… a sign of the 90s! And, look: Hot Dogs. That’s all it took.
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