The Big Boy

I just graduated—from a small, charcoal kettle grill, that is, to a 6-footer, gas/charcoal combo grill that I’m affectionately calling The Big Boy. It’s an impressive piece of equipment, with cast iron grates and a warming center in both sections, and a side burner that I haven’t even tried out yet.

If I Could Change One Thing About Vermont

Much as we Vermonters are fortunate to be surrounded by healthful, creative, and delicious foods that are grown and produced right in our proverbial, and literal, backyards, there is one thing that we’re missing: fish and seafood fresh from the ocean. Yes, we have Lake Champlain running along our western coast, with its spectacular sunsets over the Adirondacks and myriad opportunities for water fun, but I have yet to eat anything that lives in that body of fresh, not salt, water. We have some quality fish vendors like Costello’s in Middlebury, and Ray’s—who graciously park their seafood truck at the intersection just outside of Bristol every Wednesday—and excellent restaurants that turn out an array of freshly flown in fish and seafood dishes. But they just can’t compare with getting it right off the boat. For that, we need to pack up the car and head to the ocean.

Falling In Love Over Gazpacho

It’s rare for a place to exceed my expectations. Usually when I travel, I’ve spent the previous few months reading about and planning for my visit, so that when I arrive at my destination it already feels familiar, and sometimes slightly disappointing. Every now and then, though, I come upon a place that blows me away. It’s kind of like falling in love. Granada was like this.

Flavors of Portugal

I’ve been on the road for the past few weeks, or actually mostly on a river, the Douro specifically, in Portugal. My mom and I took a trip together in celebration of her 75^th birthday, and then I traveled down to Granada for five days to visit some friends who are living there on sabbatical (a Granada post will follow this one). While the trip was primarily a vacation, I was also happily doing “research” for a few articles I’ll be writing for Whisk on the food and wine of the region. Not bad work, I have to admit.

Blue Hawaii

Much as I love the charms of a Vermont winter, at about this time of year I like to get away to warmer climes. As I write, we’re in the midst of Winter Storm Nemo, but I’m still glowing from a recent trip to Hawaii with Chris. He had the good fortune to need to do some research on Oahu, so I went along and we added on a few days on Kauai. We had never been to these two islands before, just to Maui and the Big Island, but with Kauai we saved the best for last. It’s the Vermont of Hawaii, with stunning scenery, a low-key vibe, and an eclectic mix of people.

Halibut Cove, Alaska

A family of grizzly bears foraging berries by the side of the road, bald eagles soaring overhead, breathtaking glaciers cutting through ancient rock, Mount McKinley’s majestic peak bright white against an immense blue sky—Alaska inspires awe and wonder in its many drop-jawed visitors. And then there’s the fish. Salmon and halibut like you’ve never tasted before, so fresh that it was swimming in the icy waters hours before your meal. A common t-shirt slogan reads "Some people come to Alaska just for the fish," and I believe it.

Spice It Up

Normally the week after Saint Patrick’s Day here in Vermont is cold and gray with an average high of around forty degrees. If we’re lucky, we aren’t pummeled by a series of storms slicking the sidewalks with freezing rain and coating our windshields with sleet. This year, however, the whole week has felt more like June, with temperatures up in the 70s. Birds are singing, tulips and daffodils are shooting up, and the air feels like silk on the skin.

Last Sunday, instead of catching up on indoor chores like I normally would in March, I headed outside to get a jump on garden cleanup. I’m negligent about fall cleanup chores, so come spring my gardens are looking pretty scraggly. Somehow it’s a lot more appealing to emerge in the spring to tidy things up than it is in late fall, when the air has a bite and the stove beckons me to put on a soup  for an all-day simmer. The herb garden, which during summer months invigorates with varying shades of green and a heady blend of eau d’herbes, is today a tangle of brown oregano branches and shriveled sage leaves.