When even the simple becomes profound

I love food, that’s no secret. What I love most about food is it’s ability to create amazing sensations in your body. The first taste of a perfectly grilled steak can cause me to do handsprings in my soul. The flavor of a sensational glass of wine makes me swoon, a perfectly cooked risotto lifts me 10 feet off the ground, and sometimes, a simple glass of milk and a few cookies leaves me feeling like there is nothing better in life at that moment.

It’s true, I am a simple girl. I live a simple life and I like simple but flavorful food. I haved already waxed on about my dislike for ‘gourmet’ types of food and the pretension that often comes with it. Food should make one’s soul feel nurtured and loved, it should bring a sense of calm to an already chaotic life and make one glad to have taken a seat at the table to rub elbows with friends and loved ones and to enjoy a beautiful meal. It doesn’t even have to be anything fancy, as I have already talked about how wonderful it is to share even the simplest of food. It always tastes better when shared. Food+people=community. Pretty simple. And simple things can nurture and soothe as well as those preparations that take time, love and skill.

This past holiday weekend I had the extreme pleasure of spending 4 days at our lake home, and was equally blessed with 4 days of absolutely gorgeous summer weather. Our lake home sits on the Eastern shore of a small lake in West-Central Wisconsin, barely an hours drive from our home in MN. The closeness of it is one of it’s appeals, the second is that it is shared by family, and most weekends see a gathering of many with fun at a maximum. Meals are always highly anticipated, but even a standard lunch of sandwiches, chips and fruit is elevated to a higher status simply because of the numerous faces gathered around the big picnic table, all laughing and at ease with the joy of just being together.

This past weekend was not full of the all out gustatory feasts of past weekends. We had a lot of kids, the hot July weather, the boat and the innertubes. No one wanted to spend any more time than necessary inside trying to make a fabulous meal. The cabin faces west, and on hot summer afternoons, the kitchen can fill with the heat of the sun at it’s peak while it drops to it’s daily demise, making meal time often more effort than is wanted. We knew the kids would just want to fill their tummies, as would we. Grilled hot dogs, beef brats, potato salad, coleslaw, watermelon, grapes and potato chips rounded out our fare. As usual, the meal was punctuated with much laughter, especially after we tried an introduction of coleslaw to our youngest family member at 16 months, who spit it out forcefully and shook her head, making the absolute worst possible face imaginable. My niece Anna nearly shot milk through her nose at the sight. Ahhh…wonderful memories! The play continued, boat rides and swimming and shouting and laughing. As the sun dropped over the horizon and the cool of the summer night began to caress our sun warmed skin, the kids changed into pajamas, pulled out the sofa bed and all piled on for a movie and relaxation. Laughter mingled with snoring before too long, and the grownups gathered in the kitchen for a snack. The wide patio doors were open to the wonderful breeze off the lake and the heat of the day had been dutifully chased from inside. I poured a cup of milk and took a few cookies. I was tired, and needed something to send me over the edge into dreamland, what better than milk and cookies? The cool milk made the crunchy cookie dissolve into a soft mass which I pressed around my mouth, tasting it at the same time as just spreading it out to go down better. No milk softened cookie should need anything more in the mouth. A perfect combination ensued, and a sense of profound peace came over me, or maybe it was just all the activity, sun, water, swimming, hot air and delightful laughter catching up to me. I thought about getting up to replenish my cookies as I stared into the dregs of lost crumbs at the bottom of my milk glass, but realized that I was beyond tired and the only thing I should do is get into bed to allow the Sandman to send me into slumber. How could such a thing as a store-bought sandwich cookie and a glass of 1% milk do such a thing to me, to bring on such a sense of listlessness and serenity? All up and down the shore of the lake twinkled the lights of a dozen campfires, and the air was filled with the smell of woodsmoke and occasional voices caught on the evening air. Even the occasional burst of fireworks did little to change my sleepy mood. The moon winked across the water as the night air rustled the trees and chilled my skin. It was such a nice contrast to the heat of the day and it felt good to pull a sheet over me. Filled with simple pleasures, picnic food and a loving family, I drifted into nothingness, suspended above it all in sleep and dreams with the love of my life by my side. Nothing more would have made me anymore peaceful, and another day was around the corner to do it all again. Ah, the joys of simple life and the profound way it jolts us, ever so gently just for this moment to savor, savor, savor, as a great wine or a wonderful meal, but with a lasting impression that no one can take away.