Life's a Stitch

I’ve covered the knitting part of my vacation, the sentimental journey, now for the grub. One of my favourite parts of travelling. I’ve already mentioned Hart’s Turkey Farm, and Sandy did that description more justice than I could. So, in no particular order, I present to you some other highlights, starting Larry the lobster. Warning: may be offensive to vegetarians and young ones.

1. This wasn’t a case of reclaiming childhood memories.  My sister was called the gourmet baby when she would share occasional lobster tails with my parents on fish eating Fridays, while I insisted on fish sticks. I didn’t learn to like lobster until I was 20. It’s amazing the different things you’ll try for a boyfriend.

Where do you go in the US to buy a 7.75 lb lobster? WalMart, of course. Initially dubbed Larry, elevated to Lorenzo due to his size, he graced the dinner table sans the resident children, who were disgusted we could actually cook something we had named. Chuck grew up on a farm and is less sentimental about these things and the rest of us adults succumbed to practicality.

There is a myth that exists that says the larger the lobster, the tougher. Wrong. All lobster has the same tenderness potential, what kills it is overcooking. This one was steamed for 70 minutes, carved up and served on a platter like a turkey. There is more meat in an eight pound lobster than in eight one pound critters, and, at WalMart at least, it’s a less expensive way to go.

2. The mother of all comfort food can be had at Ben’s Kosher delis. Raised Catholic, I consider myself honourarily Jewish. My twice-widowed, Eucharistic Minister mother’s, short but sweet second marriage was to a man who kept a Kosher kitchen. At Ben’s you walk in to the best smells from every bubbie’s kitchen all at once. We had all we could manage: cabbage rolls, Ben’s "we pickle our own" corned beef, potato pancakes with applesauce, Challah and rye bread. We passed on the cheese cakes and strudel.

3. Near Lake George we feasted on sweet ruby red tomatoes and pesto made from the giant basil leaves from my friend’s garden. I am especially appreciative,  as here in BC, we’ve hardly had a summer as evidenced by the pathetic lack of tomatoes in my garden. Tomatoes need heat and sunshine to redden. My house, located up the mountain, is cooler yet, and this year we’ve enjoyed the five cherry tomatoes that ripened against the odds. There are hundreds of green ones still shivering on the vine.

4. A memorable barbecue and wine on the deck of a comfortable low key yacht club overlooking an approaching squall on Manhasset Bay. A guest of a friend I hadn’t seen in 32 years, we reminisced about our coming of age summer of ’68 in Puerto Rico. That summer’s plot and theme rivaled movies such as Now and Then.

5. I can’t mention all the memorable meals. A blog entry should only be so long. I tasted almost all my childhood memories – Clams Casino (whole, not chopped), Nathan’s Famous hotdogs, Penn Station pizza, and East Coast Chinese food. I tried something new – swordfish tacos. It didn’t matter what it was, it tasted all the better in the company of those with whom I share good memories – old and new. There must be an old saying to that effect, but it escapes me.

6. On the topic of dining, how about this sign? We discovered it while roaming the lobby of a hotel. That’s sure to spark some discussion. If you are going to the Sagamore on Lake George, best to leave the progeny with Nanny I’d say: