Eating alone at the lake

On a post-holiday weekend slide, here I sit back in the reality of my real world, with my warm, fuzzy thoughts about the 4-day escape I had to our lake home. I am blessed beyond compare to have married into a family with a lifelong attachment to a simple cabin on a small lake in WI. It’s the kind of place where you feel the weight of the world leave your shoulders the moment you open your car door in the yard. It’s where more than 30 years of memories and love have happened, where families have bonded, grown, shared and loved, and where a lot of food has been served to a lot of hungry, suntanned and windswept generations.

I was able to spend a good chunk of time there alone this past weekend (well, for me it was a good chunk) and took a meal along to really celebrate that time; me, alone with the wind and the water, the sun, the heat and the memories. I wanted to eat slowly and really taste my food, and mingle the flavor with the watery air, the glint on the lake and sounds of the loons. It was a hot afternoon, made tolerable by the steady westerly winds off the lake. A picture perfect end to June and a sultry introduction to the heat of July. It was a wonderful meal.

I had picked up some tomatoes at the market, although I was skeptical because they felt cold, like they had been chilled, but I tossed aside my doubt as I thought fondly of the fresh mozzarella chunk I had brought and the garden basil awaiting me at the cabin. Caprese salad! With a drizzle of green gold olive oil and a modest sprinkling of sea salt I figured that I could make any tomato edible. Once the hunger started to make me sit up and take notice, I laid out all my goodies nearly giddy with delight and anticipation. I had a chunk of salty salami and a wedge of good brie. There was a disc of Laughing Cow cheese, Cameo apples, dried figs and a bottle of Black Opal Cabernet that almost stubbornly refused to give up its cork. Somewhere I read that pulling a wine cork is somewhat like giving birth- it’s a really tough, tough thing to do but the result is amazing. That is what this bottle was like, and truth won out as I sipped. All the effort was well worth it. I poured out a bowl of sweet Bing cherries and sectioned the apple, spritzing it with a squeeze of lime for extra flavor. I sliced the tomato and saw that my instinct had been correct, and hopefully I would be able to enjoy it with a another splash of fresh lime and the oil so I dressed the fresh mozzarella and tomato slices, thinly sliced the basil over the top of it all and set the plate on the table. The salami was chunked and the cheese disc unwrapped. My feast was set out before me, regal yet simple, giving me a sense of peace and blessed contentment. I sipped the wine and sampled all the small bites; a bit of brie with the apple, then the fig. A smear of cheese on a cracker filled my mouth with it’s salty, briny flavor. The sweet cherries left their purple stain on my fingertips and I briefly thought about moving outside to the deck so I could spit the seeds into the brush with the glee of a child. I sipped the wine and then tried the Caprese. Oh the disappointment! The tomato was mushy and tasteless, and I had so wanted its impeccable summer flavor on my tongue. I tried another bite but then, with a sigh, I scraped the basil off and spread it over the delicious and simple mozzarella. The squirt of lime juice was a welcome addition to the oil and sea salt giving the cheese a light twist of flavor. I liked the apple with the brie, but decided that an apple with a more pronounced tart-ness would offset the mellow cheese texture better, and instead, brought forth my jar of real peanut butter to dip in a few apple chunks. Although I love this pairing, it didn’t quite match with my other meal items, as good as it is! The brie married beautifully with the figs and the figs were quite complementary with the Laughing Cow cheese on a good salty cracker. When my taste buds craved sweet I would pop a cherry in and savor the soft flesh, the tangy juices and the lively dance happening in my mouth. I was in food heaven and loving every minute. The wine captured all the taste of the dinner together nicely despite its heavier feel. And throughout the entire meal I could watch the sunlight over the water and hear the far-off sounds of others. The loons dove and swam; the wrens continued their constant calling, ground squirrels raced around under the deck outside and butterflies danced over the wildflowers down on the slope. The plates were now getting emptied and my tummy was very content, so without allowing for too much of a good thing, I sighed peacefully and got up to clear my dishes. It was really warm now and I was pleasantly full, my face feeling flushed and sweaty. Now comes the night, hopefully with some cooler temps, and maybe dessert. After that meal, I wondered how I can manage to find something with a fitting finish.