Over the River and Through the Woods
Summer at the Inn reminds me of bodysurfing down the Jersey
shore as a kid. One big wave after the next would roll in to hone our
lean-mean-surfing-machine skills. Time and again, a few exhilarating seconds morphed into what felt like minutes
of breathless horror as I was pummeled by a foaming green sea.
Just when we were ready to call it a day, another big swell would dare us to
catch the ultimate ride.
Why do I say that summer for me in The Berkshires is like riding those
Atlantic waves? The daily tasks of keeping the Inn clean, well-stocked and welcoming
keep rolling in. When I run out of steam a new wave of interesting people from
around the world tumbles into the Inn and I catch the crest of another great
ride.
Thank goodness for the tasks that steer the Inn steady. I
embrace those hours at the ironing board where the repetitive motion that
smoothes away the creases and wrinkles of the sheets does the same for my mind. At first I am still reeling from the events of the day, overwhelmed with
planning tomorrow. By the end of a set or two of sheets my mind is quiet and a
plan for the next morning's breakfast is ready to go.
Good news from the kitchen! My croissant mojo returned! Just
in the nick of time I might add, but not without extracting a price for their
return. It seems in this incarnation they insist on no more than a 5-hour rise
which means if I want to serve them at breakfast I have to pull them for that
rise at 2:00 a.m.
Oh, the price of beauty!
Fruit and flowers always make me slow down and think ... Life
is good. And what kind of pie should I make for breakfast tomorrow? And how
great were the blackberries this year?!
This summer began with a hen house raid. This critter got a
one-way ticket over the river and through the woods after we lost all but one
of our hens and Pretty the rooster. We were pretty darn mad, but fear not: No
raccoons were hurt in the telling of this story nor in the actual unfolding of
events. Raccoons roll over on their backs and cover their eyes with their paws
when the going gets tough, thereby ensuring that even the most cold-hearted
Russian (a.k.a. Andrei)
can do nothing but put them in the back of a truck and drive them far, far away
to release them. We have been assured he (or she) will be back any day now.
Here are Pretty and his steady companion on beetle patrol by
the young squash plant. It was very dear to watch the two of them hanging tight
once their pals had vanished. Although Mrs. Pretty did her part with one egg a
day, it wasn't cutting it during the height of our season especially after we
had become known for our farm-fresh backyard eggs. Oh my! Turns out that
raccoons aren't the only criminals - there's a fox infestation that is decimating
our neighborhood's poultry population. Fatter foxes, means more babies, more
babies, more hen house raids, which leads to fatter foxes, more babies ... you
get the picture.
We finally found someone with a few laying hens to spare.
Mrs. Pretty wasn't so happy for a few days and took to going to roost about
three hours earlier than her new hen house sistas, but all is as it should be
once again. Here's the flock out for one of their first strolls.
And yes, Virginia, there really is a Prospect Lake and here
is one happy innkeeper going for a dip at the end of a long beautiful summer
day.
I'll write more next month. Maybe I'll tell you how I beat
the dare that I couldn't "sell" string beans for breakfast. Easy, too!
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This Innkeeper's Favorite Summer Dinner: Your Choice
Version One
1. Fill a very tall glass chock-full of ice.
2. Pour one-third full of Tanqueray.
3. Squeeze in the juice of one big, fat lime.
4. Fill the rest of the glass with Fever Tree tonic water
(Schweppes will do).
5. Steal a moment on the patio. DO NOT look at the grass and
wild sorrel that needs to be weeded from the herb beds.
6. Relax and enjoy until the mosquitoes start having their
dinner and then move inside to the comfy chair in the dining room.
Heaven!
Or
Version Two
Biercher's Muesli
It is kicking! As our friend Urs jokes when he eats it,
feigning to wipe the tears from his eyes, "Just like my mommy used to make".
1. Big bowl.
2. 2-cups of rolled oats. In they go.
3. 1-cup golden raisins. In.
4. One juicy, super ripe cantaloupe. Cut it in half. Scoop
out the seeds. Cut each half in half again (you've got four pieces now) and
then use a paring knife to score it from the flesh side into 1-inch squares. To
loosen the chunks run the knife along the inside of the rind and let the pieces
fall right into the bowl on top of the raisins and oats. Check.
5. A little sugar, maybe a quarter of a cup. I often delete
this step but you like it better when I add the stuff.
6. 2 apples. Peel them. Cut them in chunks. Into the bowl.
7. 'Tis the season, so add a cup of blueberries. One of the
best things for you in the whole wide world.
8. In goes a whole big container of yogurt. Currently starring: Hawthorne Valley Whole Milk Plain, but 2% is good too. Use your
favorite. I've flirted with Vanilla and Maple but I always go back to plain.
Ain't it just like Plain to be waiting there for you?
9. Pssst - I do add a big glop of honey or maple syrup. You
should too.
10. Last thing...a big cup of walnuts. (I have been adding
them on top of the muesli at the inn because of allergies but they are better
in the mix.)
11. Stir it all up real good. Cover with plastic wrap and
refrigerate overnight. You have to do
this part. The oats have to soak up all the love.
When you serve it, top it with every imaginable fruit and
berry you can get your little hands on ... plums, peaches, raspberries, some of
those awesome blackberries if you can find them still, more blueberries, whatever
you've got.
And it's dinnertime for me! Which dinner shall I have
tonight?
Happy summer!
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On the Corner Table
Check out Moon in the Pond's latest newsletter. This month it's all about the chickens...
When we first bought the Inn, Moon in the Pond was my refuge
in times of stress and exhaustion. I always felt welcome. I would walk down the trail past the currant bushes, kiwi vines and
chicken yard. Past the oxen and the large black pigs, through the woods
and by the pond. Always hoping someday I would see the moon reflected in
the waters...
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