Country Times: Spiders, Shiso Chicken, Garden

After McCrossens I took Mr. Ass up on his invitation to dinner in the country. When I arrived my car's headlights illuminated this giant spider and spider web. This is a web that, were you to run into it, would easily span one's torso or - even more horrifying - one's face and shoulders. Guh.

I like that spiders eat bugs, but I do not care for running into their webs unannounced. I was just thinking about how if I had a kid I would teach him or her to always walk in the woods with a stick. A stick you should be rhythmically be swinging in front of you in order to prevent any full face to web (or  scrambling spider!) contact. I find it makes the woods far more enjoyable.

Mr Ass. whipped up a tasty meal of grilled chicken, some of which were wrapped in shiso leaves from the garden. Fresh corn was also enjoyed. We ended up going to New Hope for a taste of its nightlife. It's strange there. New Hope is this bustling center of such a strange sprawling country-ish area with plenty of relatively affluent  (and non affluent) folks gather. You'll see bearded men greying beards, leather jackets and blonde lady friends mount their motorcycles and ride off with a growl. You'll also see equally older men with well dressed girlfriends slide into their fancy convertible sport cars and drive off with a vroom. Also in attendance will be a wide range of other folk. A man in academic gown stalking the streets and reeking of weed. Lesbians - butch and femme and all between- asking others if they can pet their dogs. Dogs, happily panting at the end of leashes enjoying the attention of strangers smoking outside bars. Dudes wearing dress shirts and party jeans with wide shoulders, gelled hair and a hit of fake tanner. Bearded buddies dressed down and shooting the shit. I saw one group of women all of whom were very thin and very very short and tight dresses; the kind of dress with missing sleeves and sexy necklines. They looked great, but I just couldn't understand New Hope as a place where one would want or need to dress up in such a fashion. I think this may be out of touch.

The next morning I got up earlier than I strictly meant to but had important life errands to run. Mainly taking care of my car's need for changed oil. This was something I had put off for more time than I'd like to discuss. But before I left I did take a little perusal of the garden in daylight/

Asparagus jungle.

Fish Tacos c/o The Purple Parrot

Last weekend I gathered myself together and drove down to Rehoboth Beach, Delaware in order to celebrate the impending nuptials of LB. Because I am who I am, I arrived much earlier than the rest of the bachelorette folks. This allowed me to suss out the parking situation, pre-order pizza for the evening's festivities, and generally take a moment. This moment also resulted in my going to the Purple Parrot for a late lunch. I'd never heard of this place nor gone to it in any of my other trips to the area, but it was right next to our apartment and had a festive atmosphere even from the sidewalk. So I went with it. At around 3 in the afternoon I was one of only a handful of folks sitting and eating and drinking, so service was pretty good...and came in the form of a 20 year old dude not wearing a shirt. I ordered a happy hour margarita and the fish tacos, which I had thought was a happy hour special but turned out not to be. Not complaining though. I was hungry and the mix of cabbage crunch and hot fried fish was fantastic.

I also really enjoyed the living roof thing they had going on, as well as the music playing.

A nice way to ease into what would be a very fun and late-night filled weekend.

Parting Scenes in Cape Henlopen State Park and Crab Cake c/o Surfing Crab

The last day of a camping weekend is always a sad thing for me. My feet are inevitably very filthy, sand can be found in my hair and all my clothes smell like smoke, but my emotional balance is better than it often is in the city. I think one of the reasons I find myself happier when alone in pretty places is that the pressure is off. Cities remind me that there are so many folks out and about, living their lives...sharing similar interests, falling in love, eating, drinking, holding hands while walking the streets, having compelling conversations about things I've never heard of, dancing well or poorly, watching movies in parks on blankets, gathering together in kitchens to bake bread. All that stuff. And sometimes I feel like I'm not really doing any of that in my own life ... even if this blog might try to convince you otherwise.

So when I'm camping by myself, or spending a long weekend in the country by myself, I usually don't have that same falling sense of emptiness or loneliness that sometimes overwhelms me in the city. Though technically more alone in these environments,  I am not as concerned with the ways my current life doesn't quite match up with the life I might have imagined for myself five or ten years ago. I am not as caught up with the sense that I'm treading water while most of those around me - friends and strangers alike - are streaking by me with purpose and intention.  I am contented with a warm spot to sit with a good book. Or I am more contented than when I'm reading a book in my room, with the sounds of the city right outside my window. No place or scene can completely sooth the less positive thoughts in my head. On this camping trip I encountered at least a few moments of longing. That I was at a point in my life where the kids riding bikes in circles around the campgrounds were mine, or that I was one half of one of the couples taking twilight strolls with flashlights in their back pockets. But that was not the main tone of the weekend, which was one of independence and peacefulness.

So the last day of camping is a sad one because this sense of solace - this sense of worrying a little less about the things I feel are absent from my life - it starts to slip away. There is the business of striking the tent, taking trash to the dump and shaking the sand out of the towels. There is the decision process of whether to walk to the beach one last time in swim suit, or whether to forgo that particular activity in favor of sitting in the shade reading a book (it may not surprise you that I chose the book). Eventually there is the bittersweet driving away from the campgrounds and the greater Cape Henlopen State Park, and with every mile between me and the campsite, reality seeps in: three weeks of laundry to do, four months of bills and credit card offers to shred, a kitchen floor in need of a good scrubbing.

On this particular trip I learned a few things about the park that I hadn't know previously. These things included: there is a place where you can go and pet sea creatures (I imagine mainly horse shoe crabs), one can rent a bike for free (this state park is one of the few environments where riding a bike seems like a really appealing option to me), and there is also a 'frisbee golf' course. I ended up driving around the park a little before leaving, and found this second beach area, which seemed to be the go-to spot for trucks and fishermen.

It was a little cloudy and blustery on this last day, which made my choice not to suit up a little less fraught.

I decided that I would stop at the Surfing Crab after I departed Cape Henlopen. All the friendly ribbing about how I'd regret not trying their crab cake had gotten to me...I don't like to miss out on tasty things. No. No I do not. So very soon after they opened I rolled on into their gravel parking lot. I was greeted by a friendly and rather cute young man (does it make me creepy to note that this kid was attractive? I imagine he was in college, not, like, high school). The youngster then ushered me into the empty dining space and allowed that I could sit wherever I liked. I took a seat at the end of one of the large and long tables and took a quick look at the menu. I was interested in trying a half and half of their Maryland crab soup and their cream of crab soup, but they were out of the one and somehow I didn't want all of the other. After getting a lager I placed my order: the crab cake sandwich with vegetable side. The vegetables on this day were asparagus and were serviceable if not very memorable. But let me tell you what. This crab cake lived up to the hype. I didn't bother with eating it like a sandwich, which would have ruined some of the crabbiness with bread filler, and just ate the cake with a fork. It was nice and crispy on the outside, and creamy crabby on the inside. Scarcely any filler. Well flavored. Lovely large morsels of lump crab meat.

Comparing this meal's simplicity and friendly server with Claw's far less satisfying dinner of the night before is perhaps unfair. Having already had one good meal at the Surfing Crab I was predisposed to expect good things. Though, actually, I was predisposed to think the Claws' association with Fin's was going to be lead to good things. And I really do know that it's not fair to compare the manner of two 20-something young men as servers when one was dealing with multiple tables during a busy time of day while the other was faced with only two tables in the middle of the afternoon. And yet. I wonder. For many people serving tables at restaurants is a summer gig or only a temporary state of being; something you do while you're getting your college education, or something you do while supporting an artistic pursuit of some kind. I don't know where I was going with that. That both servers were young men, but that one referred to me as 'friend' at the end of the meal and encouraged me to sit and read my book even when my plate was cleared...while the other gave me my check without asking if I wanted another beer or anything else. Shrug. Friendliness counts for something. But then I feel bad because I have worked in the food service industry. I know how hard it can be to give a shit about your patrons when the kitchen and you are completely in the weeds. I know what that's like too. Yeah, I've lost my point. To conclude: Surfing Crab, you do a good job of making a girl feel welcome and your food is good.

Then I got back on the road. The remaining pit stops I made included this farm stand, where I bought two things of flowers (one geranium, one mystery), which I planted in a bigger pot and haven't yet died after a week or two (I imagine they'll die any day now, a green thumb is not one of my qualities/appendages).

I also bought three ears of corn. And then finally, unpictured, I stopped at the last fish market on Route 1 before going inland and picked up a few soft shell crabs to make my future meals a little more interesting.

And that concludes my Delaware/Cape Henlopen/Rehoboth Beach camping and eating adventure. And some stray thoughts on service and loneliness.

Lazy Country Day

So a few weeks back I went up to Bucks County and spent the day with Pipo and Yma the Jack Russels. It was gorgeous. I spent the majority of my time either catching up with the new season of Game of Thrones, or walking around looking at the pretty, or lying down in the sun and napping.

Battlefields and Monuments

After lunch we decided to make the most of the gorgeous weather and take a drive and walk around a few of the battle sites. I'd passed this memorial a few times in the past, but this was the first time I actually got out to take a proper look. It really is dramatic.
I'm not a very good history buff. When I visit the battlegrounds I understand how soaked with blood and death it must have been, but the specifics of what battalions were killing what other battalions and all the other nitty gritty details of the war don't exactly interest me. Or they do, but when I'm actually on the fields I'm more taken by the beauty of the land. The sheer destruction and death that took place on it, that is terribly sad and it's not that I forget it. But the result of the Gettysburg battle, as far as the land is concerned, is that it will never be torn asunder or built upon. No McMansions will ever grace these fields. No Wal-Marts will ever hawk their wares where so many thousands of men died. And I think that's pretty good.
From the top.
A. pointing something out to W.
The Ohio crew.


My face.
Me and the cuz.

We then drove up to Little Round Top. Red bud. Pretty bud.


E. giving something the stink eye.
Round Top from Devil's Den. There's a little stream in front of the rock formation that makes up Devil's Den. I took a little stroll along it, hoping to see some frogs or turtles. I saw one or two frog-like splashes, but not the actual frogs themselves. I also heard something that was quite reminiscent of a bullfrong, but no proof of body could be found.
Afterwards we were all a little hot and decided that Rita's water ice would do the trick nicely. I went with a cherry/mango/peach combo that, at times, froze my brain something awful.

Last Morning in Gregory Town

And then suddenly it was our last morning. We had a noon puddle jumper flight from Eleuthera back to Nassau, so it's not really a surprise that I woke up at 7. My initial plan had been to go down to the cove and swim with the fishes a bit more...but unfortunately I started thinking about lathering myself up in sunscreen, the shower I would need once I was done with the salt and the sand, the plastic bags I would need to keep my damp suit, towel and shoes in if I didn't want my entire luggage to smell like mold. Etc. Basically I psyched myself out. So instead I walked around the landscaped front of the place and then strolled on down to the water for a brief put my toe in kind of final hello and goodbye. The sunlight was beautiful. Honey golden shit going on.




And then we were off to the airport, where we arrived with plenty of time, which we spent having a beer and (in my case) worrying that we would miss our plane if we weren't incredibly diligent about sitting and listening.

Sunday Morning Baby and Flowers

The last day of our Thanksgiving weekend in Maryland featured a visit from R. with new little one R. The men just sat and didn't ask for a turn holding the baby. I held her briefly but she was a little hungry and while I do quite well with babies once they're about 6 months, when they're under that age they're so small and attached to their mothers that I generally don't give it a good college try. 'It' being continuing to hold them if they're at all uncomfortable.
B. took this photo after little R. had herself a meal.
Cheeeks!
It was great to see both R.s! Oh and look at the pretty flowers.

Thanksgiving Pre-Eating (With a Side of Eating)

After I returned from my walk, the Thanksgiving preparations notched up a gear (wow, that makes sense). I was generally in the way or not overly helpful, but at least I documented some things? I guess? I did help with the mashed potatoes? In any case, here is what the dining room table looked like. Turkey and its babies!
A beautiful cornucopia of fresh flowers.
A refreshing blend of champagne, cranberry juice and pineapple juice. This day was the first day that I ate a cranberry straight up ... and promptly spit it out due to its intense pucker-sour effect. Who needs sour patch kinds when you have cranberries? Other than Method Man, of course.

I got very, very excited when it was revealed that one of the two turkeys that we would eat was going to be deep fried. I have long wanted to see the process and try the results, but without being responsible for the whole situation. So I was glad that I could simply observe R. and C. and their process. Here are the oil jugs, emptied of oil, that it took to fill up the pot.
C. had rubbed the ten pound turkey with some Cajun seasoning. At this point they're skewering it on a base that would then be lowered into the bubbling oil.
There is some dignity to this turkey.
D.'s sister made a spinach dip that was brought out during the turkey prep. Seriously it was 66+ degrees. I was so happy.
R. lowering the turkey, ever so slowly, into the vat of boiling oil.
C. protecting his cousin's nether regions from any spattering. Now that's family.
And all the way in!
I bet there are now over 200 photographs of these guys doing their turkey dance, as we all gathered and took our respective angles on the process. Digital photography has ruined us all.

We all continued sipping on champagne and eating little treats while waiting for the second turkey to be complete (another was happily roasting in the oven).
Seriously a beautiful, beautiful day. This sunlight on the trees really got me.
And after about 40 or so minutes, it was time to remove the turkey from its scaldingly lovely home.
Then came the delicate process of getting it into a horizontal position and unskewering it.


I encouraged them to have 'triumphant' looks on their faces, I think that they a) had too many cameras to look at and b) perhaps didn't realize how truly triumphant they were.