A Long Island Evening

We spent nearly every Wednesday evening on Long Island this summer. It was the perfect mid-week break and chance to laugh, swim, hang out with friends and eat (of course). The summer of 2012 was all about the 'meal in a Mason jar' and I put a Proper Chicken Caesar Salad  under glass for this little adventure.

This particular Wednesday was the first full moon of August (there were two this year) and I was really hoping to get a decent picture of the moonrise. We anchored the boat, pulled out dinner, watched the kids swim and waited. The moon rose (right on cue) and try as I might, I still have yet to capture the beauty of a moonrise over Lake Superior.

The kids had a blast— dancing, laughing and jumping off the boat. They reminded me of otters— sleek, graceful and completely at home in the water.

The sun was setting, the moon was rising and we needed to head back to port. I looked down from the flybridge and took this picture of Charlie. It summed up everything I felt— joy, gratitude and wonder. There is nothing quite like watching the sun duck behind the hill and paint the sky shades of coral, gold and fuchsia. We were truly blessed to add this evening to our cache of Lake Superior memories.

A Week With Katie

Labor Day has come an gone (almost, we have another couple of hours left of 'official' summer). Every summer seems to fly by but this one had wings; I can't believe the kids start school tomorrow. I have been on a bloggery hiatus and thought a little taste of what summer looks on Lake Superior would make a good re-entry into your good graces. My sister, Katie, and her family came to visit in July and we had a lovely time— the pool on Madeline Island, Presque Isle Bay on Stockton, and dinners at the Pub and in my kitchen.

Katie celebrated a birthday that ends in a zero during the week (not sure how sensitive she is about her age and since she looks like she is 18, I will let you guess what birthday it was). We had a big table at the Pub, filled with the loud laughter and chatter that Dougherty's and Hollerman's are particularly gifted with. I love living in Bayfield but I treasure every minute I have with my family when they make that four hour drive North to visit.

We went to Presque Isle Bay on Stockton and spent the day with lots of sun, warmish water and no flies. We ate, played cards, built sand castles and swam. As we headed back to the boat, I said a prayer of gratitude— for my family, for the memories we are giving our children and for the lake that was the backdrop for a perfect summer afternoon.

I am the oldest of seven kids and my parents drilled 'family first' into our heads from the beginning. In fact, one of my Dad's favorite sayings was 'how can two countries get along if two sisters can't?'. It was unbelievably annoying to hear that little ditty when we were in the midst of World War 3 over who took my jeans or didn't empty the dishwasher but I am glad he never failed to utter it. As an adult, I am blessed to have four amazing sisters (and one sister-in-law) in my life who know my whole story and love me because (or in spite) of it. The week with Katie, Dan, Mollie and Jimmy was one of the sweetest weeks of the summer. Sweet because we added ferry and boat rides, Sadie and the attack of the Mama duck, singing Happy Birthday at the Pub, jumping off the boat and Mollie's posh air mattress to our family story.

Sunday at Stockton

There is nothing like a Sunday spent on Lake Superior. It's quiet, beautiful and restorative. Well, as quiet as a boat full of Doughertys can be. We went to the north end of Stockton and spent the afternoon sitting on the rocks, watching the kids swim and jump off the boat. It was as good as a summer afternoon can get.

When we bought the boat nine years ago, Charlie was in diapers, Sadie was 4 years old and I was pregnant with Meg. Leaving the dock meant vigilant monitoring of the kids whereabouts and the constant zipping and unzipping of life jackets. On this trip,  I sat up in the flybridge with Ted on the way over, reading a magazine. Time moves fast and you have to be ready for the ride. While I miss having little people around, I really enjoyed chatting with Ted and the kids and getting caught up on my backlog of New Yorkers.

The kids love to jump off the top of the boat, that is Charlie in mid-air. I haven't taken the plunge yet, I am not fond of heights or jumping into thin air. I sat on shore and documented their amazing feats of bravery.

I grabbed some leftovers for lunch and made a salad on the way over. Grilled chicken thighs, spinach, red peppers and avocados with fresh lime juice and Tajin- delicious but the chips and Oreos were a bigger hit. That's the way it goes when your target lunch audience is 14 years old and younger. However, Zeus the dog, loved the salad.

As we headed home, I thought about all the miles we have traveled together— Isle Royale, the Slate Islands, Loon Harbor, Grand Marais, Thunder Bay and the Apostle Islands. What a gift to have memories of safe harbors, northern lights, wild blueberries, sandy beaches, thunder rocks and saunas as part of our family story. Moving to Bayfield has had it's ups and downs but I wouldn't change one single footstep of our journey. I know our kid's compasses will always point north to Bayfield and that makes me happy.

Jack's Big Birthday

Okay, I am a little behind in my bloggery— summer is a demanding taskmaster and leaves me little time for sitting at my computer. Jack's birthday was the end of June and it was a big one. He turned 18. He was born eleven days before our first anniversary and has literally been with us every step of the way over the past eighteen years. He was the first of so many things: grandchild, nephew and son. My youngest brother, Michael, started kindergarten as an uncle and his birth showed me the path I was meant to travel- motherhood. Those were sweet days, we were young, newly married and freshly minted parents. It is hard to believe he is getting ready to travel his own path now, independent of us.

We had a little 'surprise' get together for Jack at Bob and Kelly's shop and arrived home to find a plate of freshly made strawberry jam and biscuits from Julie. The amazing thing about that plate of biscuits (other than the fact that it was a lovely and thoughtful gesture from Julie) was that George didn't eat them. I am not sure what she said to him but it worked. She must have super hero dog training skills.

Lately, I can not get enough steamed edamame with olive oil, Maldon sea salt and chopped mint on them. It is the first completely healthy meal that I would (and do) choose to eat time and time again. We started with a huge bowl of them on the deck while I grilled the steaks. The dogs love the shells, they need to watch their waistlines as well.

Andy's had a whole beef rib roast on sale and I knew it would be a huge hit for dinner. There is definitely an art to cutting steaks from a whole rib roast and I don't have it. The steaks weren't totally mangled but they weren't pretty. If anyone noticed, they kept it to themselves. I cut a bunch of herbs from the garden, chopped garlic and mixed it all together with olive oil and sea salt. The steaks looked a little less mangled and a little more artisanal. The finished product was perfect— tender, medium rare and flavorful.

Jack was headed out with his friends and the cake portion of the evening was over before I knew it. Rest assured, he had a piece of pie (from the Candy Shoppe) on the 'You Are Special Today' plate— I just forgot to take his picture. I was distracted by this 6 foot 2 inch man who is getting ready to start a new chapter in his life and wondering where the years have gone. Talk about bittersweet— I am so proud of the man he has become but miss the little boy he was. The minute I held that ten pound baby in my arms, I fell head over heels in love. He was special from the beginning and has brought immense amounts of love, joy and pride into our lives. It's impossible to sum up what the past eighteen years have meant to me, suffice it to say, 'I love you right up to the moon- and back'.

Summer, Meghan & A Lemonade Stand

Meg and Summer decided to have a lemonade stand outside of Kelly & Crew yesterday. I am not sure who hatched the plan but Kelly was on top of it— sandwich board, balloons and all. Meg was super excited to have the stand downtown. She had a lemonade stand at the end of our driveway a month ago and our neighbor, Martha, was her one and only customer. Going to Kelly's was the 'big time' as far as she was concerned.

The Candy Shoppe was the recipient of most of the proceeds, I think they each had two ice cream cones over the course of the afternoon. When I stopped by, there a sign on the table saying they were at the Candy Shoppe and would return soon. I heard them laughing a half a block a way, ice cream in hand and gigantic grins on their faces. They also raised 10.00 for the animal shelter— talk about two girls after my own heart.

The Land

I really don't know where to start this blog post, the Land and I have a checkered past. I grew up in Minneapolis and was absolutely, positively a city girl. The closest I got to the great outdoors was going to Lake Vermillion every summer and staying in a cabin with my family.We fished, swam and went to the dump at dusk to watch the bears. It all changed the year I turned thirteen. My parents bought 90 acres in Frederic Wisconsin and I had a fierce learning curve in outdoor survival skills (okay, maybe not survival skills but it seemed pretty intense to my thirteen year old self).

We have always referred to it as the 'Land', I honestly have no idea why we gave it such a nondescript title. For a long time, there was just a pole barn, an RV, a trampoline and 90 acres of farm fields and woods. The house is a relatively new addition, within the last 5 years or so, but we still call it the Land. My Mom would pack a picnic and my siblings in the station wagon and we would drive an hour and a half for lunch. Ironically, I have done the same thing with my kids—except we would drive four hours each way to spend a day and a half in Bayfield (I never had my act together enough to pack a lunch). As an adult and parent, I know what it feels like to want to get out of Dodge. As a kid, it seemed like a long way to go for lunch.

Even in the throes of teenaged angst, I enjoyed our afternoon outings. It was novel to be sitting in a field, listening to the cicadas, surrounded by tall grass and clover. I brought my friend, Lee, along for the ride one year and she sneezed the entire time. Evidently, she had horrid allergies and her adventure in rural Wisconsin exacerbated them. We still laugh about it and wonder if she ever went outside of city limits after her lunch with us. The Land holds many of our family stories— the time we found a fawn, the hawk dive bombing our dog, Murphy, deer hunting and alternative uses for mayo jars, well drilling and fracking, Red Freddie, bucket rides and Naturally Northern raspberries.

My Dad was a pharmaceutical salesman for many years and Southern California was part of his territory. He saw how large-scale raspberry farming was done out west, pesticides and all, and we never ate a commercially grown raspberry after that. After a tremendous amount of work and planning, he now has a thriving company, Naturally Northern, selling pesticide, herbicide and insecticide free raspberries in Minneapolis. He said when he first bought the Land, there were no birds or predatory insects because it was farmed commercially with all sorts of chemicals. He has not used anything except fertilizer for years and it shows— there are dragonflies and birds everywhere, wildflowers in the fields and the raspberry field is filled with bees.

Will and I took off on a photo safari the morning before we left. I had forgotten how beautiful it is up there. Walking through the woods, on paths I haven't step foot on for years, was a revelation. The seeds of my love for Lake Superior and Bayfield were sown amidst the moaning and groaning of my adolescence about having to go to the Land.  As an adult, I am grateful for the weekends spent in Frederic and not at Southdale with my friends or in my room wishing I could marry Simon Le Bon.

When Will and I returned, the girls and Nana were in the midst of a cookie baking adventure. Nana's cookies are legendary around our house and the girls love to help her. Sadie copied down a few recipes while the cookies were baking. She is following in her Nana's footsteps—she is a great baker.

I have been blessed to be part of a family who have always marched to the beat of their own drummer. It is a legacy that I want to pass on to my kids— have the courage to live your life with abandon and stay the course when the waters get rough. What more can you ask for?

A Totem Pole Raising (or Re-Raising)

There was a minor set back when Ted was cutting down an old birch in the front yard. The totem pole was in the wrong place at the wrong time and the birch took it out. It spent a few months reclining in the yard, waiting for the day it would stand tall again. Being a lumberjack is hard work (at least that's Ted's story and he is sticking to it).

Ted called the man who put the pole up five years ago, I can't imagine how that phone call went. I doubt he has to re-raise many 20 foot totem poles. We bought it from Bill Vienneaux, a wood-carver in Washburn, and it's the only 20 foot totem pole he has made (so far). There were two spots open on the pole when we bought it and he carved the flying pig and the bear reading the book for us.

I remember the day it went up (the first time) in the summer of 2007. I had just finished putting in the flower garden, Guinness was at my side and Meghan was in Ted's arms. Time has flown by. We bought it as an homage to Ted's Dad. Frank passed away two weeks after we bought our house and he is buried in the Bayfield cemetery. We wanted to do something to honor the man we adored and missed terribly; I know he would have been pleased.

Frank and I had a lot in common: reading, love of food, the New Yorker and pigs. Maybe it was the Irish in us, pigs are considered good luck charms in Ireland. When Anne and Frank moved to Alabama, they asked what I would like from the cabin. I knew right away— the white pig, Horatio, that sat outside their door. It was fitting we put a pig with wings (and a smile on his face) on the totem pole.

I raised a glass to Frank after the totem pole was securely back in place. He saw the woman I was going to become before I even knew she existed. He gave me Anne Morrow Lindbergh's book, A Gift From The Sea, for Christmas when I was nineteen and just starting to find my way. I miss his unflagging love and loyalty, he was a helluva guy. The 2006 Coudoulet de Beascastel was the perfect wine to drink that afternoon— bittersweet cocoa, dried figs and black cherry. I was happy to see the totem pole upright but I was missing the man who inspired it.

Charlie's Birthday Dinner

Charlie wanted grilled shrimp for his birthday. What a change from a couple of years ago when the request was corn dogs and potato chips. He is eleven now and has expanded his culinary horizons to include Thailand and Coney Island. I used a recipe from Fine Cooking and it has never failed me. I always cook the shrimp on separate skewers from the vegetables. The veggies take longer to cook and there is nothing worse than overdone shrimp— it's like chewing on an eraser. A little jasmine rice, grilled shrimp and vegetables and a chile lemongrass dipping sauce— an auspicious way to usher in Charlie's eleventh year.

Spicy Thai Shrimp Kebabs with Chile Lemongrass Dipping Sauce

Grilling Sauce

1 tbsp garlic, chopped

1 tbsp ginger, peeled  and chopped

1 tsp jalapeño, finely chopped

1 tbsp scallion greens, chopped

1 tsp kosher salt

1/4 cup peanut oil

Dipping Sauce

3 stalks lemongrass, ends trimmed, tough outer leaves removed nd tender white core finely chopped

3 tbsp freshly squeezed lime juice

2 tbsp scallion whites, finely sliced

1 tbsp fish sauce

1 tbsp cilantro, finely chopped

1 tbsp basil, finely chopped

1.5 tsp soy sauce

1 tsp garlic, minced

1 tsp light brown sugar

2 tsp Sriracha chile sauce

3 tbsp water

Kebabs

1.5 pounds large shrimp

2 red peppers, seeded and sliced

2 red onions, sliced

1 package of mushrooms

Preparation

Combine all the grilling sauce ingredients in a food processor and process until combined, mixture will still be chunky.

In a small serving bowl, combine all the dipping sauce ingredients and stir well. Refrigerate until ready to use (can be made up to 6 hours in advance).

Toss the shrimp in the grilling sauce and let sit for 10 minutes. Thread the shrimp onto skewers (soaked in water) and reserve the dipping sauce. Toss the vegetables in olive oil, salt and pepper and thread onto skewers (soaked in water). Grill the vegetables over a medium hot charcoal fire and grill until done (8 - 10 minutes). About five minutes before the vegetables are done, place the shrimp on the grill, brush with the reserved grilling sauce and grill until done (about 2 minutes per side).

Serve with jasmine rice and dipping sauce.

Angel food cake with whipped cream and strawberries is a Carlin tradition and since strawberries were in full swing, Charlie decided it was the cake for his eleventh birthday. Again, I forgot birthday candles but Jack found a couple of little tapers we could light up. We decided two candles look like the number eleven, Charlie agreed.

I picked a 'theme song' for each pregnancy and Charlie's was Sweet Thing by Van Morrison and it suits him to a T. He was the happiest baby and is a joyful young man. It sounds trite but I seriously can not believe how fast he is growing up. In eleven short years, he has mastered cribbage and jumping off cliffs at Devil's Island, learned a tremendous amount about Greek mythology, has a wicked dry sense of humor, knows how to sail an Opti and is an empathetic and brave soul— we couldn't ask for more.

Fried Chicken On The Beach

I like most things Southern: grits, monogrammed stationery, bourbon, good manners and fried chicken. I bought Thomas Keller's cookbook, Ad Hoc, because I read quite a bit about his recipe for buttermilk fried chicken plus he owns the French Laundry....I had high hopes. It was good but not exactly the holy grail of fried poultry I was hoping for. The perfect fried chicken is moist with crispy skin and a golden brown crust. The Ad Hoc recipe called for brining the chicken overnight and then double dredging the chicken. It tasted fantastic but the skin was a far cry from crispy.

In the depth of winter, Bon Appetit delivered me from my fried chicken woes. The February issue featured a recipe billed as the 'only fried chicken recipe you will ever need'. Who am I to doubt the good folks at Bon Appetit? I hustled to the grocery store to buy a couple of chickens and see if I finally would achieve fried chicken nirvana. The BA recipe involves a dry rub, a single dredge in seasoned flour and a cast iron skillet— the skin was crispy, the meat was moist and I was satisfied.

After all this talk about the quest for the perfect fried chicken, I have to admit the first fried chicken I ever tasted was from Kentucky Fried Chicken. One evening when I was nine or ten, my Grandma Duffy came home with a red and white striped bucket of greasy goodness from KFC. My sister, Bridget, and I were excited to tuck into a dinner of chicken, wall paper paste consistency mashed potatoes and gravy until we took a look at the chicken. There were little feathers poking through the golden brown exterior (say what you want about KFC, they know how to get a crunchy crust on their chicken). We immediately renamed it Kentucky Fried Feathers and didn't eat it for years— I am not sure if Bridget ever ate it again. I still remember Grandma standing over the sink with a lit match burning off all the feathers on the raw chicken before she made us dinner— she was a marvelous woman.

I can't remember why I decided to re-visit fried chicken, after that traumatic experience with the fried feathers in my Grandma's den. As Minny, from the movie The Help, said, 'fried chicken just tend to make you feel better about life'. She was right, dropping a chicken thigh ensconced in buttermilk and seasoned flour in a skillet full of shimmering oil, feels like something special is going to happen. It isn't the easiest dinner to prepare. Frying chicken requires advance planning and time spent over a sizzling skillet— definitely not a 30 minute meal. Just like the sound of a champagne cork set aloft, a platter of fried chicken means I am headed to a party and it is going to be grand.

I had an idea about butter for the biscuits (you always need biscuits at a beach party with fried chicken) I was taking to the beach. God forbid we eat ordinary butter on an evening when Venus was transiting between the Sun and Earth. I placed a stick of room temperature butter in a mixing bowl and added some chopped rosemary and thyme, about 1/4 cup of maple syrup, a pinch of Maldon sea salt and cayenne, mixed it together and smeared it on a 'test' biscuit. It was delicious, sweet, hot and perfect for a picnic. I wish I wrote down the exact measurements but I was late (big surprise) and threw it together on the fly.

It was the first of the many dinners we will spend on the beach this summer and it was perfect. Perfect because the flies hadn't hatched yet, the kids were in the water, there were 2 platters of deviled eggs, we toasted Venus with Italian wine and there was fried chicken galore. Summer of 2012 is going to be glorious.

Trampled By Turtles At The Tent

Summer of 2012 is off to a spectacular start. We went to see Trampled By Turtles at Big Top Chautauqua and it was one of the best live shows I have ever seen. Our friends, Bob and Kelly, sponsored the show— we met the band and had front row seats. I was serious about the summer of 2012, it's poised for greatness. Bluegrass played under a tent at my favorite ski hill made for a night I won't soon forget.

There were a lot of people there, I think it was a record-breaking night. There were hula hooping girls, little kids and lots of happy people waiting for a brilliant show, inside and outside the tent. I doubt anyone left disappointed, Trampled By Turtles were fantastic. I like bluegrass and I really like bluegrass played by a bunch of talented men from Duluth.

I was so happy that Jack was there. In fact, he was the one who turned me onto Trampled By Turtles. One of the perks of having teenagers is their music knowledge, they play new music for us all the time. Thankfully, they have been raised on a steady diet of Crosby, Stills and Nash, Neil Young, Emmylou Harris, Dave Matthews and Cat Stevens.

Music frames a childhood. I remember listening to Cat Steven's, Tea For The Tillerman, when I was eight or nine in the family room while my Dad grilled steaks outside. I still can smell the smoke from the grill and feel the scratchy blueish green scalloped carpet every time I hear Hard Headed Woman. Jack will remember this night long after we are gone and that makes me happy.

When we met the band earlier in the evening a couple came up to Dave Simonett with a small box wrapped in gift wrap with his face and a red bow on it. It was their anniversary and either they met at a TBT concert or played one of their songs at the wedding (I wasn't listening that well, trying to balance picture-taking and beer drinking). It must be pretty humbling to realize the words and chords that lived in your head and were brought to life with a banjo, guitar or your voice have become touchstones for people you may never meet. There were moments during the concert where everyone was singing and dancing— a collective consciousness of pure joy. I could be wrong but I think the band felt it as well.

I don't play any musical instruments but if I did, it would be the violin. It is a seriously sexy instrument— all curves and beautiful details. It looks delicate but after watching Ryan Young play it, appearances are clearly deceiving. It is very sturdy and makes the most beguiling sounds. I am going to add violinist to the list of things I want to be when I grow up (or older, in my case).

We have spent many summer nights listening to music at Big Top with friends and family and the tent holds a special place in our family story. Jack said he has had an amazing childhood since we moved up here and one of the reasons was seeing Trampled By Turtles and Great Big Sea at the tent. Meghan and Charlie were in a few of the house shows last year, although they seemed to enjoy running around outside as much as being on stage. When we park our car in the gravel parking lot and see the striped canvas tent at the foot of the ski hill we were skiing on 4 months ago, I am awestruck by how blessed and lucky we are. Music is a gift and having a place in my backyard where I can share it with my kids is astounding.

In the song, Alone, the first verse is 'come in to this world alone and you go out of the world alone but in between there is you and me'. In between there are nights like last Friday— music, good friends, my first-born son and memories made under a canvas tent near the shores of Lake Superior. Absolutely brilliant.

Lupines, Lilacs, The Beach & A Double Rainbow

A few weeks ago, we went for a drive and this amazing field of lupines caught my eye. The vibrant purple and green literally stopped me in my tracks and I jumped out of the car to take this picture. Bayfield is awash in color. We set out to capture a little of it on an afternoon in late May.

Lilacs remind me of my parent's house— there are two huge bushes outside the kitchen windows and the fragrance was overpowering (in a good way) when they were blooming. Ted planted lilacs at our house right after we moved in five years ago. They are finally blooming and the fragrance transports me back to my Mom's kitchen.

Charlie found this green bug on the beach. It was on it's back near the water's edge and he rescued it. Don't you wonder what a bug thinks when it gets picked up? I saw A Bug's Life and lots of other Disney movies devoted to insects and I am pretty sure they don't like to be manhandled. We put him (or her) in the grass after I took the picture.

A magnificent stump on the beach. Charlie waded out to it and was looking for bugs in the water. It must have been an enormous tree at one time— I wish I knew where it came from. I walk by it every morning with the dogs and think of Charlie perched on the edge.

We have blueberry bushes and the butterflies love them. Gus, the black and tan Cavalier, loves to chase them. He camps out under the bushes and spends hours stalking them. His girth and short legs are definitely a handicap but he gamely keeps trying.

The beginning of the storm that blew in that afternoon. I was grilling after the deluge and heard the kids shouting. I ran to the front of the house expecting to find a compound fracture or a head wound but there it was— a double rainbow. As usual, Bayfield gave us a magical ending to a day spent capturing her brilliant colors.

A Cake For Ted's Birthday

Happy Birthday to Teddy. I remember the first birthday I spent with him. We had an afternoon picnic at Fort Snelling along the Mississippi and ate chicken salad from the Byerly's deli. He was turning 21 and had big plans to celebrate his ability to legally imbibe. I was a fresh-faced 19 year old girl without a fake id, thus the birthday lunch. Lots of years, birthday cakes and celebrations later, I finally made Ted his all time favorite cake— Black Forest Torte.

I have been on this earth for 42 years and have yet to make a cake from scratch and I didn't think a birthday cake for a dinner in six hours was the time to start. I bought a Duncan Hines chocolate cake mix and started my baking project. If you remember, following directions is not my forte and as a result, my baking adventures can be fraught with disaster. However, I am a good bartender and I had a couple of secret weapons to mitigate my boxed cake mix: Luxardo Maraschino cherry liqueur and Luxardo Maraschino cherries. I am telling you, these cherries will change your life. They will make you realize the fire engine red 'maraschino' cherries in a Shirley Temple or on top of an ice cream sundae are an abomination. Okay, maybe not an abomination but certainly ordinary and sickly sweet.  I put 2 or 3 tablespoons of the liqueur on each cake round, frosted the cakes with whipped cream, layered the cherries between the layers and on top and shaved good dark chocolate all over (it seemed like a pastry chef thing to do).

It was a little lopsided, the unflavored gelatin I put in the whipped cream to stabilize it did not dissolve properly and I couldn't find birthday candles but it was perfect. Perfect because we were in the kitchen— eating and laughing at the table. A birthday cake ablaze (in Ted's case) with candles reminds me to recognize the beauty of getting older and celebrate how far we have come together.

Cookies From My Childhood

I used to spend a lot of time at my Grandma Duffy's and she loved meringue in all shapes and sizes— pies, cookies, individual pavlovas. These chocolate chip meringue cookies were my all time favorite, although the pavlovas with strawberries were a close second. We went to her house for nearly every Sunday dinner. There was always dessert and when I walked into her kitchen and saw the sheet tray with meringues on top of the dishwasher, I was one happy little girl. My parents and grandparents would have dessert in the dining room and my sister Bridget and I would go into the den, watch Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom and eat our dessert on TV trays.

My Mom gave this recipe to Charlie last week. Considering how much I love these cookies, it is strange I have never made them. Meringue has always seemed way out of my league (I am not a good baker, remember?). I had egg whites sitting in the refrigerator (left over from the hollandaise) and this was my chance to have a little piece of Grandma Duffy in my kitchen. I just finished a book called The Kitchen Daughter by Jael McHenry and the main character,Ginny, is able to conjure spirits when she cooks from a recipe written in their hand. While Grandma Duffy did not appear, as I pulled the cookies out of the oven I was transported back to the her kitchen.

Chocolate Chip Meringue Cookies

4 egg whites 1/8 tsp cream of tartar 3/4 cup of white sugar 2 cups of corn flakes 1 cup of chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Beat egg whites and cream of tartar until it forms soft peaks and gradually add sugar. Continue to beat until shiny and holds stiff peaks. Fold in corn flakes and chocolate chips. Put spoonfuls meringue on a parchment lined sheet tray and bake for 15 minutes. Let cool on sheet tray to set and then move to a wire rack to cool completely. Store in an airtight container.

There Is Theater In These Woods

We were on our way to Stagenorth to see Oklahoma! when we saw this bear about 4 blocks from the theater. A black bear sighting on the way to the theater— only in Northern Wisconsin.

Meghan is in the chorus with her best friend, Emily. This is her second performance and she loves it.

As I sat in the theater, I recognized so many of the faces— my kid's music teacher, Bill the wine guy, friends of Will and Sadie. What a treasure to have Stagenorth in Washburn, it truly is a community theater.

The talent in this area is astounding. My good friend, Liz, is the director. She has directed many productions at Stagenorth and her expertise is evident— Oklahoma! is a polished musical full of beautiful costumes, voices and characters.

Sunday Photo Safari & Souffle

Sunday photo safari is becoming a regular thing. We grab our cameras, hop in the car and head out to parts unknown. Last week, we went down Star Route, took a right on a logging road and kept our eyes peeled for a place to stop. Adventures are a good way to stay connected— we talk about school, what pictures we want to take, if we should take George next time, where they want to go to college, what I am making for dinner. As they get older, I feel the quiet coming. I want to embrace the chaos, noise and beautiful mess with both arms while I still can. Photos give us instant access to moments in time and I am so thankful for these moments with my kids.

We were looking for an abandoned house or barn but settled for a bunch of rusty stuff in a field. We didn't run into any wild animals, snakes or hornet's nests— success as far as I am concerned.

When I told the kids I was making blue cheese souffle for dinner, I heard crickets. They had quesadillas and Ted and I ate souffle, it worked out well. It is the perfect dinner with a green salad, a baguette and good butter.

Ina Garten's Blue Cheese Souffle

3 tablespoons unsalted butter, plus extra for greasing the dish

1/4 cup finely grated Parmesan, plus extra for sprinkling

3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

1 cup scalded milk

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Pinch cayenne pepper

Pinch nutmeg

4 extra-large egg yolks, at room temperature

3 ounces good blue cheese, chopped

5 extra-large egg whites, at room temperature

1/8 teaspoon cream of tartar

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.

Butter the inside of an 8-cup souffle dish (7 1/2 inches in diameter and 3 1/4 inches deep) and sprinkle evenly with parmesan.

Melt the butter in a small saucepan over low heat. With a wooden spoon, stir in the flour and cook, stirring constantly, for 2 minutes. Off the heat, whisk in the hot milk, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 1/4 teaspoon black pepper, the cayenne, and nutmeg. Cook over low heat, whisking constantly, for 1 minute, until smooth and thick.

Off the heat, while still hot, whisk in the egg yolks, one at a time. Stir in the blue cheese and the 1/4 cup of Parmesan and transfer to a large mixing bowl.

Put the egg whites, cream of tartar, and a pinch of salt in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the whisk attachment. Beat on low speed for 1 minute, on medium speed for 1 minute, then finally on high speed until they form firm, glossy peaks.

Whisk 1/4 of the egg whites into the cheese sauce to lighten and then fold in the rest. Pour into the souffle dish, then smooth the top. Draw a large circle on top with the spatula to help the souffle rise evenly, and place in the middle of the oven. Turn the temperature down to 375 degrees F. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes (don't peek!) until puffed and brown. Serve immediately.

An Ode To George

I was in Ironwood Michigan for a swim meet with the kids three years ago and I forgot to bring snacks. A trip to the grocery store was in order. As I headed into the Super One, a poster on the community message board caught my eye— three darling little labrador puppies. I exercised some restraint and walked into the store without the phone number. My restraint beat a hasty retreat in the granola bar aisle, I paid for my groceries and wrote down the number (just in case I needed a lab puppy). After consulting the kids, I decided I needed a puppy and made the phone call. I did not, however, call Ted. First rule of healthy marital relations— always consult Ted before procuring a puppy. It all worked out in the end and George is a stellar member of the Dougherty family.

Ten reasons why George is my favorite (don't tell the Cavaliers, thank God they can't read).

1. He has a big, blocky head.

2. He knows how to open large jars of peanut butter.

3. When you ask him if he is hungry, he runs to the garbage can.

4. He likes to ride shotgun, with the seat warmer on.

5. There are at least 100 tennis balls in my house and in the yard.

6. He knows how to source his own food in the kitchen.

7. He loves Will.

8. He likes to carry around my Tory Burch Reva flats in his mouth (I think he pretends they are a duck and he is a hunting dog).

9. The beach is his idea of Nirvana.

10. He thinks 'sit' means drop the ball (sometimes).

The Leeward Side

Although you wouldn't know it by looking out the window today, Saturday was a taste of summer in April. I haven't been to Madeline since last fall and a picnic on the beach sounded like a brilliant plan. We stopped at the IGA, grabbed chips, cheese, crackers and a trashy magazine (People magazine is a prerequisite for a Mary Dougherty beach day) and boarded the ferry. The wind was picking up and the ride was a little rough. Big Bay Town Park was on the leeward side of the island and I knew we were headed towards a stellar afternoon.

Charlie asked me how old he was the first time he went to Madeline Island. When I said, three weeks old, he had an incredulous look on his face. It wasn't as crazy as it sounds, it wasn't my first rodeo and Charlie was an easygoing baby. The Madeline Island 4th of July parade is a not to be missed event for the Dougherty's. A little thing like a newborn baby was not going to stop us from going to the parade and watching fireworks from the boat!

George was the only dog invited. Actually, he invited himself. He was running around the house with his Chuck-it and a terribly earnest expression on his face. He ran outside before anyone could catch him and hopped in the car. Fortunately, the Cavaliers don't share George's enthusiasm for the beach. I gave them a few treats and left them at home without too much guilt.

The kids wanted to check out the waves and I wanted to visit the LaPointe Indian cemetery. We had an hour to kill before our return ferry trip, just enough time to make everyone happy. The waves were impressive, the wind was howling and the cemetery was beautiful in its decay. Our afternoon felt like visiting an old friend, Madeline holds so many memories for all of us. Recounting our shared past experiences and planning our future visits to the pool, Grandpa Tony's or the Pub gives me a sense of place and immense gratitude for all we have been given.

The Journey Began With Cheese

What would possess a woman with five kids, four dogs, a lot of impractical shoes and a relatively easy-going husband to move to a small town in Northern Wisconsin and buy a restaurant? Cheese. It all started with tortas- a cheese and chutney appetizer that Renee had made for years prior to meeting me. I remember sitting in the bar at the Wild Rice, planning our foray into the cheese business in Minneapolis a couple months after we met. I called the Uptown Kowalski's, delivered my 'elevator pitch' and scheduled a meeting with the head cheese specialist. As I walked out of Kowalski's on that sunny November afternoon, I had no idea how much my life would change.

Our little cheese company took off in a hurry. The tortas were in all the Kowalski's stores and selling well. We had a pretty good system worked out— Renee handled production and I was the delivery and 'demo' girl. Everything came to a screeching halt when her restaurant caught on fire and burned to the ground 3 months after our first delivery. We needed a kitchen to continue making our tortas and spent a couple of weeks exploring our options. We walked into an old yellow farm-house outside Washburn with an illustrious history as a speakeasy, brothel and restaurant and that was that. I found myself seriously considering buying a restaurant. Another three or four weeks passed, Renee had a partner,  I had a restaurant and Bayfield had 7 new residents. As Gabrielle Hamilton, author of Blood, Bones and Butter, said, 'And that, just like that, is how a whole life can start'.

Blue Cheese & Fig Chutney Torta

Fig Chutney

2 cups dried mission figs, chopped 3 garlic cloves. chopped 1 red onion, chopped 1/4 cup butter 2 cups red wine 2 tbsp candied ginger, minced 1/2 tsp red pepper flakes salt and pepper to taste

Blue Cheese Torta

2 packages of cream cheese, at room temperature 1 sticks of butter, at room temperature 1 garlic cloves 1/4 cup red onion, minced 1 tsp cayenne pepper, to taste 1/2 cup blue cheese (more if you prefer a stronger blue cheese taste) 1/4 cup Parmesan cheese salt and pepper to taste

Chutney: Melt the butter in a sauté pan and add the onion, sauté until softened. Add garlic, figs, red pepper flakes and candied ginger and saute for 5 to 7 minutes. Add the wine and simmer until liquid is nearly evaporated. Add salt and pepper to taste. Cool completely.

Cheese: Combine the butter and cream cheese in a food processor. Add remaining ingredients and process until smooth. Line ramekins or other containers with plastic wrap. Press chutney into mold and add the cheese mixture. Cover and refrigerate until set. These can be frozen and de-frosted before serving.

Sunday Afternoon at Houghton Falls

Pristine, running water is a blessing. Running water winding through a verdant forest surrounded by an ancient sandstone ravine is nothing short of miraculous. Sadie and I were driving home from Washburn Sunday afternoon and saw Will walking downtown with his camera slung across his back. He was headed out to take a few pictures on the Brownstone Trail but really wanted to go to Houghton Falls. Sounded like a brilliant idea to me— it would be my first visit, the sun was shining and it sounded like a perfect family outing. The primordial beauty was breathtaking. I felt the heartbeat of the forest as I walked up the ravine to the falls. I heard the birds, the water, the wind in the trees and the kids laughter. I was utterly enchanted. Once again, I am humbled by the power of the natural world to soothe my monkey brain and restore my spirit.

I have a connection (kind of) to Houghton Falls. The restaurant building was built by Hattie and Milton Sprague as their farm-house— the farm had 1000 acres and included the falls. Over the years, parcels of land were sold and the house changed hands a number of times. The Club Lido, owned by Cleo Grant, was an institution from the mid 1950's until the late 1970's (I am not sure when Cleo sold it). I met Cleo's daughter , Cheri, in August of 2010 when she traveled back to Washburn for the dedication of the Houghton Falls Nature Preserve. When Cheri was growing up, they owned the land from the restaurant to the lake (including the falls);  it was fascinating to hear her stories. She used to ride her pony to the lake and spend time in a cabin Cleo (or her Dad) had built somewhere near the falls. I can't imagine having Houghton Falls as your playground— it must have been magical. Cheri sent me a package of pictures after she left. I scanned a few: there is a picture of Cheri on her pony, Cleo and Cheri in front of the restaurant, Cleo in the 1940's and that beautiful building we call Good Thyme.

The Respite Of A Foggy Day

Sunny days are easy, what's not to like about sunshine and a blue sky? The expectations can be high though, you feel like you should be productive— clean the car, brush the dogs, go to the beach, have a picnic. I can come up with a myriad of things to do on a sunny day. A foggy day, on the other hand, is a whole different beast. The pressure is off. The blessing of a day shrouded in mist and fog is the slower cadence of normal rhythms. I can spend my day inside reading, cooking or just sitting and it seems like time well spent.

Will took both pictures in this post. He and Ted came home from school, picked up his camera and headed straight down the harbor to capture a few pictures. I love that my fourteen year old son appreciates the wild beauty of this place and wants to capture it on film (or memory card...film sounds better).

I bet you didn't know today is World Poetry Day?? I can't think of a better poetic subject than the shifting shapes and hues of a bank of fog. I like this poem, The Breathing, by Denise Levertov....something about the 'breathing too quiet to hear' that resonates with me.

An absolute

patience.

Trees stand

up to their knees in

fog. The fog

slowly flows uphill.

White

cobwebs, the grass

leaning where deer

have looked for apples.

The woods

from brook to where

the top of the hill looks

over the fog, send up

not one bird.

So absolute, it is

no other than

happiness itself, a breathing

too quiet to hear.