Food

Where dreams and reality meet . . .

~ Adrienne Cohen ~ Leave a comment

I must confess that the 1962 red Corvette convertible I once owned spawned dreams of taking the ultimate Route 66 road trip. The car didn’t come into my life until years after the TV show ended, but both were classics. And, as they say, old dreams die hard. Sadly, that car and I shared memorable times on other highways and byways, but the cruise along Route 66 never happened. The Corvette was a part of my automotive “stable” for about 15 years, and I fondly remember that first sports car.

I later learned, to my disappointment, that the car used in the television show wasn’t even red. Even so, it was easy to fall into the rhythm and excitement of traveling along the Mother Road, on a press trip in September with fellow travel journalists.

Route 66 was just about 2,450 miles long. It began in Chicago and meandered through eight states on its way to Los Angeles. Only 13 miles were in Kansas, but much of the original Kansas highway remains. What was America’s “first superhighway” opened in 1926 between Illinois and California, and it became a primary “escape route” for those who fled middle America during the Dust Bowl days. It was, at the same time, a symbol of opportunity and the sign of a country that changed rapidly following the war years.

The Way It Was

One can still drive across the last surviving Marsh Bridge over Brush Creek, one of three concrete and steel rainbow bridges that once traversed Kansas creeks along Route 66. The bridge now is on a loop road off the thoroughfare, and it’s a favorite destination for photos, picnics, and an occasional wedding. The Route was officially “decommissioned” only in 1985, and it is no longer the highway of choice for modern travelers, other than those who are seduced by its history and its television fame.

Kansas, at least this portion of it, hasn’t changed much visibly over the past several decades, but its people have. Modern highways move vehicles and people faster and more efficiently, but traveling the short stretch of Route 66 is definitely more fun! It’s clear that this section of the historic highway still does what it was designed to do — it “connects the main streets of rural and urban America.” The best part? There are ample opportunities to pull off the road and explore Kansas communities!

Nostalgic reminders of a very different past are evident along the way. History comes alive when the Route 66 signs appear.

Nelson’s Old Riverton Store has been in continuous operation since 1925. Today, it looks much as it did then, and operates similarly, welcoming locals and tourists alike. It’s worth a visit – try a beet-juice pickled egg or purchase kitchy Route 66 magnets, ball caps, license plates and t-shirts. Why? Just because!

Locals still come to buy a loaf of bread or a can of beans, grab a soda and a sandwich, or just while away the time with friends. It’s that kind of place. It appears to be decades ago that any repairs were made to the building. Wildflowers grow up along the fence line and hanging baskets add color to the scene. Shopkeepers are welcoming and only too willing to share stories with visitors. It’s like stepping back in time.

It’s impossible to escape the influence of the Route in this part of Kansas.

Cars on the Route

Fans of Disney’s “Cars” are in for a treat at Cars on the Route in Galena. Visit the old Kan-O-Tex station and get up close to the rusty boom truck that was the inspiration for Tow Mater in the movie.

Walk down a dusty stretch of road and around a corner to enjoy a sack lunch at rustic picnic tables in the shade of a ramshackle lean-to. Snap some shots of the quirky old photo boards before moving on.

Other attractions in Galena include outdoor art and murals, a Texaco station turned curio shop on Main Street, complete with pumps set to recall the low gas prices of the time. There’s also a rusty old “jail” near the city’s square that provides an irresistible photo op!

We broke for lunch at Bricks & Brews in Baxter Springs, and what a treat that was, with a menu to satisfy any palate and attentive service accompanied by big smiles. We also stopped for an all-too-brief visit at the Baxter Springs Heritage Center and Museum. We had only limited time to spend, but it is a treasure trove of information about the town, the history of Cherokee County and southeast Kansas, the Civil War, and Route 66.

Nature and More

We pushed on to the Southeast Kansas Nature Center/Schermerhorn Park, near Galena. Admission is free, and the hilltop site acts like a magnet for anyone interested in visiting the 32-acre Shoal Creek Wildlife Area. There are wooded hills, streams, and caves to explore; dedicated anglers can even drop lines along a ¼-mile stretch of the creek. Indoor exhibits include live snakes, exploration drawers, plant, animal, and history exhibits, educational films, and the attention of a knowledgeable curator/guide. A bonus was a squirrel that visited the feeding station just outside the one-way glass!     

Add in a visit to Big Brutus, standing tall and proud at an old coal mining site on the Kansas prairie, and we were ready to sample Kansas comfort food — fried chicken with all the fixins at not one, but two, local restaurants with long histories in Pittsburg, Kansas.

I’ll fill you in on the food — and there was lots of it — next time. Our group sampled both downhome dishes — some with a new twist — and culinary delights for sophisticated palates.

Planning a road trip to this part of Kansas from the neighboring states of Missouri, Oklahoma, and Arkansas, or from farther afield, is easy. It seems appropriate to leave the Interstates behind and enjoy the miles of farmland punctuated by picture-postcard views of old barns, fields filled with growing crops that stretch towards the sun, and animals lazily passing the time doing what farm animals do. The route stretches on with gentle curves; small towns are not far apart and each promises a unique and unusual experience.

Be sure to request your Kansas map and state travel guides in advance of a road trip to Kansas. Knowing where you’re going and what there is to see makes a driving trip so much better!

Full Disclosure: This trip was sponsored by Kansas Tourism, and the itinerary was prearranged. But the impressions are mine alone. I want to return, and it’s an easy road trip from my home base in Arkansas. I’ll be writing more about Kansas as well as about other travel to new destinations abroad in 2023. Subscribe to my blog here, or follow me on Facebook and Instagram.

Kansas — living the dream

~ Adrienne Cohen ~ Leave a comment

Today’s Kansas is not the one that Dorothy and Toto might easily recognize. The winds still blow hard across the state’s prairies. No doubt they still have the power to swirl some dirt around and can occasionally cause tall grass to bend almost horizontal to the ground. The state has endured its share of hard weather and hard times over the years, and not only in fiction.

Today, however, Kansas has its eyes on the future, and that future is bright. The past two and a half years of pandemic closures and uncertainty have in some ways been a catalyst for the growth and development that began before the shutdown. Change is “impatient” in the state today.

The focus is forward-facing and the vibe everywhere is hopeful and energetic.

In late September, I participated in a whirlwind three-day tour of southeast Kansas. As the region’s Travel Guide proclaims: “SOUTH of the stars, EAST of the sunset, smack dab in the heart of America.” This is not a part of Kansas I had previously visited, and I didn’t know quite what to expect.

From the air, the state resembles a patchwork quilt of color, with sinewy ribbons of rivers and roads winding across the prairies. Kansas is filled with small farming communities, each with a unique personality. There are many; we flew into Kansas City, visited Fort Scott, Humboldt, Chanute, Galena, Pittsburg, and Baxter Springs, and drove through others without stopping. Although all towns in Kansas are classified as “cities,” only five boast populations of 100,000 or more. Everywhere we went, we met locals who are in the process of redefining their past history and their future in distinctive ways. Make no mistake, history is intertwined with dreams here in southeast Kansas, and that contributes to the region’s infectious vitality.

To be fair, I was not completely unfamiliar with Kansas, known as the Sunflower State. I was grounded at the Kansas City Airport during a snowstorm many years ago — not one of my happier memories. But the flatland prairies calm me, and road trips always are interesting. The Cosmosphere in Hutchinson is not only fascinating but well worth an extended visit. Four years ago, I enjoyed an all-too-short visit to Wichita. I knew about Fort Leavenworth and Fort Riley, but Fort Scott was new to me.

However, I didn’t arrive for my recent visit to this “flyover state” anywhere near as enthusiastic as I was when it came time to leave. The trip was eye-opening, the people welcoming and the sights impressive in unique ways. It was invigorating to spend time on the ground in the heart of America.

I want to return. Sooner rather than someday!    

Today’s winds of change are especially strong in some of the state’s traditional farming communities. The New York Times chose Humboldt as one of its 52 best places to travel for 2022. After being there, I know why! The land may not have changed much, but its inhabitants have. It’s hard not to fall in love with this part of the state. Southeast Kansas is full of pleasant surprises and some quirky attractions, and its people seem to be moving at full throttle into a future even they cannot yet quite imagine.

Travel with me . . .

Over the next several weeks I’ll share more of my thoughts. We’ll start in Fort Scott and the jewel in its crown – the Lowell Milken Center for Unsung Heroes. Then, we’ll move on to the 13 miles of Route 66 that still cross this corner of the state and explore other Kansas byways, ending in Emporia, now the acknowledged center of two thoroughly modern sports – disc golf and gravel bicycle racing. We’ll visit the Martin and Osa Johnson Safari Museum in Chanute, a small city also known for its ties to railroading and early aeronautics.

All along the way, we’ll explore Kansas eateries, sampling traditional “comfort food” and new taste treats served by innovative chefs and restaurateurs. This was a trip that kept us on the move. Despite a rental van glitch that required a delayed start and an initial itinerary adjustment, our group of journalists crammed a week’s worth of experiences into the time we had, thanks to the extraordinary planning of Kansas Tourism and our local hosts.

Join me to learn more about the food we enjoyed along the way — it may surprise you! Then, if you should decide to see southeast Kansas for yourself, know that residents of its many charming communities will show you around and make you feel at home — visitors to Kansas don’t remain strangers for long!

On the road to Toad Suck

~ Adrienne Cohen ~ 1 Comment

A string of convertibles – all with tops down — left last Saturday morning for a leisurely road trip from Hot Springs Village to Toad Suck, a little town in Arkansas with a name that invariably makes people laugh or shake their heads in disbelief. The excursion was a fall event for members of the loosely organized convertible-owners group “Escape the Gate.”

There may be a few “wannabe convertible owners” among the 190 names on the email list of this group, but on this day 52 people gathered in a parking lot just outside this planned, gated community. We departed in 26 shiny automobiles on an hour-long drive through scenic byways and fall foliage.

The planned destination was lunch at Toad Suck Bucks, a riverfront steakhouse with its own unique story, situated on a bluff overlooking the Arkansas River not far from the lock and dam that share the name.

The eatery is a lively place from Thursday through Sunday, featuring comfort food and good service, cold beer and good bourbon, as well as pool tables and shuffleboard inside and live music on the patio Friday and Saturday evenings. It’s lively and informal, and everyone there seems to know their neighbors.

Toad Suck Bucks has been drawing a crowd for 23 years. Except for a few more dollar bills stapled to the walls and columns today, it probably hasn’t changed much since it first opened. Toads – what else? – are a décor element.

The owner doesn’t normally fire up the grill until 2 p.m. on Saturday and at 4 p.m. Thursday and Friday.

However, owner Ted Buck agreed to be there early to accommodate the convertible crowd on this Saturday. He was in the kitchen turning out burgers and fries, catfish sandwiches and fried bologna sliders, grilled shrimp and pork tamale bites, assisted by his wife and regular crew who pitched in to assure that the people-pleasing quality of this country-favorite diner was intact. Buck still found time to shake hands and explain the history of this quirky Arkansas treasure.

It’s a unique find, but it’s not at all unknown. Toad Suck Bucks boasts a Facebook following of 7.4K, with nearly as many likes! The interior is as quirky as the name, filled with mismatched tables and chairs that can be reconfigured at will to fill any need. There is a sign that proclaims: “No profanity, please,” and another hand-lettered sign hangs from the ceiling near the kitchen as the dessert menu. I’ll bet it changes often, based on what’s in season, or maybe just at the whim of the baker.

Parking isn’t a problem, and it’s obvious that when the weather allows, the “party” naturally spills onto a patio that’s filled with picnic tables and comfortable lawn chairs! Open bulbs are strung for evening illumination and there are no posted closing hours!

Buck returned to his native Arkansas following military service in both the U.S. Navy and Air Force – he laughingly agrees that’s unusual, and he eventually settled on this quiet spot in this peaceful part of the state. A couple of homes and several outbuildings exist on the property today, and a single sign at the head of a long driveway leads newcomers to the site.

He says he operated a flea market in the building that now houses the restaurant, then he bought a pool table to pass the time with friends. One pool table wasn’t enough, so he bought several more, and more friends arrived. Buck once served simple snacks, with BYOB get-togethers the norm. Then, he adds, “Someone suggested we grill some steaks.”

Toad Suck Bucks was born.

Getting there isn’t always easy. No billboards proclaim its existence. There was a several-mile stretch of dirt road that had drivers wondering if we had all taken a wrong turn. Our colorful convoy prompted other drivers to stop, wave, and let us pass as we made our way through small towns and turned across lanes of traffic. I’ll wager we could have asked directions from any one of the residents had we actually thought to do so. Despite the dust, our group arrived intact, and later Buck shared the “easy way” to keep us all on pavement on the way home.

All in all, it was a perfect autumn day for a top-down drive along country roads, an excursion that makes for fond memories. Ken Buck has surely been doing something right for the past couple of decades, and many of our group vowed to return. Add 52 more “likes” to the total!

Looking back . . .

~ Adrienne Cohen ~ Leave a comment

During the past few months, I have spent many hours trying to organize travel photos and make sense of my travel notes and journals.

I have also spent hours poring over newly-discovered recipe books and cards saved by previous generations of family. They are nothing if not enlightening, filled with tasty treats meant for celebrating with family and friends, and also packed with ideas about how to “stretch” food enough to get through hard times. Some of them surprised me, and a few made me weep.

One — Fried Oatmeal — brought back childhood memories of what I thought at the time was the best breakfast ever, served hot and crispy from my grandmother’s cast iron frying pan. It was Fried Cornmeal Mush, the leftover raw material from a Sunday cornbread or stuffing dish, or perhaps leftover breakfast grits from a previous morning. Served with butter and syrup, it was a favorite way to start a day. However, cold cereal was much more common!

This particular card — one of a collection of recipes in a box that was obviously a promotional effort for Gold Medal Brands — notes: “This is a good way to use left over porridge.” I could not help but remember my grandmother’s refrain, “Waste not, want not,” as I pored over other cards in the sturdy wooden box.

Interspersed with the printed cards, there are traditional Scandinavian treats, some no doubt passed down from generations past. There are Polish and Russian dishes with beets, cabbages and potatoes. Many are hearty and filling, healthful and full of vegetables, but not overloaded with meat. Some are simple egg dishes. The desserts, I found, tend to be less sugary than today’s versions, and many rely on fresh fruit and spice for flavor and punch rather than chocolate and refined sugar.

There are many recipes for sweets made rich with butter and cream. Some of the old recipes required spending hours in the kitchen and intensive preparations for holiday observances. Others were quick and easy, no doubt meant for times when there were more important things to think about when food counted only as simple sustenance.

Hand-written recipes sometimes had notations — “easy or fine, or from Aunt Ida, or Papa’s favorite,” and I have found interesting notations even in familiar well-used hard-cover cookbooks, the standard reference for any cook back in the day. One made me smile: “Too much work!” Another simply bore a single word: “NO.” Many of these recipes are reminiscent of “Sunday dinners” and holidays, and of life well-lived in small towns or on farms throughout the flyover states. That is my heritage.

Others of those tattered recipe cards, however, bear the stigma of more difficult times, when food and funds were scarce, resources and pantry reserves were slim, and many of the men were off fighting wars in foreign lands. There are notes about sugar substitutes — sugar was one of the first products to be rationed during WWII. But rationing followed in 1943 for meat, butter, margarine, canned fish, cheese, canned milk, fats and oils. Fresh food was often in short supply simply due to the season or to transportation snags.

From the war years, there are numerous ideas for Jello molds, salads, and simple puddings. And there are “ration recipes” for meats.

Celebrations were more somber and homemakers “made do” in innovative ways in an effort to use available food stocks and to preserve a sense of hope during those lean days. Epidemics, wars, weather, the economy, and a shift from farms to cities all seemed to align against a comfortable existence during much of the 20th Century. But family life continued.

A “Hard Times” Recipe for Cinderella Crisps

The Secret: Magically turn ordinary white bread into extraordinary tea crisps. Scrumptious!

The Recipe:

6 slices trimmed white bread, each cut in 4 strips

1 can (14 oz.) sweetened condensed milk

2 2/3 cups (about) Baker’s Angel Flake Coconut

Using two forks, roll bread strips in sweetened condensed milk, coating all sides. Then roll in coconut. Place on well-greased baking sheet and bake at 375 degrees for 8 to 10 minutes. Remove at once from baking sheet. Makes about 24.

I will confess that this is one I have not tried, and probably will not. Please let me know if you do!

Moving on to New Experiences

Today I take it as a personal challenge to try to make healthful, tasty meals out of simple ingredients. I also have some recipe cards that became my “go-to” resource when I was a young bride with little kitchen experience to guide me. Perhaps not surprisingly, I still occasionally refer to them. I read recipe books with as much delight as the latest novels, but I tend to make up recipes as I go along, instead of adhering strictly to the directions. Although I like good food, I do not love spending unnecessary hours in the kitchen.

I collect recipes from my travels and love recreating the tastes of faraway places when I return home. I like to experiment with new flavors and seasonings, and I think meals should look appetizing, smell wonderful and taste great. Most of the time, I think meals should be prepared fresh, not pre-packaged or ordered as take out. I take as much delight in preparing a meal for two as I do planning a holiday open house. Those holiday gatherings have been in short supply this past year, haven’t they?

Perhaps before too many more special days pass, we will once again be able to celebrate together, with hugs and laughter, with old folks and babies, with new-found friends, and especially with family. This pandemic year has taken its toll. Hopefully we will get beyond it and look forward to the good times to come!

For now, it’s enough to remember.

Filling up on island time . . .

~ Adrienne Cohen ~ Leave a comment
Note: A previous post, about a stopover in the Azores, was the first in a series of posts that chronicle a recent trip to Portugal, heavy on relaxation and good food, undertaken as a sort of “experiment” by two couples. As cousins, we have more than just family ties in common, but had no previous experience traveling together. It was a unique adventure.

We had embarked on the planning with gusto. We all agreed that daily schedules and strict timetables would not govern our trip. We would take the days as they came, giving in to whims, and choosing to explore both together and sometimes separately. We also agreed that picnics and snacking would be every bit as welcome as “reservations-only dinners,” and that off-the-beaten-path attractions held more appeal than guided tours or noted museums.

I hate to admit that our appetites guided our island activities, but that’s pretty much the truth of it. We heartily endorsed seaglass expeditions100_2530 on lonely beaches, long lunches with accompanying local beer or wine, and lazy afternoons with our books, sometimes interspersed with naps. Even though early dawn light was beautiful, we felt no compunction to be overly active early each morning.

We overindulged in fresh fish and seafood prepared in traditional ways, and we sampled sardines, octopus, local mussels, sheep’s cheese, and plenty of olives. We did, unfortunately, miss the experience of eating cozido, a meat or chicken dish slow-cooked underground in the hot volcanic soil. And we did not venture a soak in the mineral-laden volcanic pools, although they are a highlight of the visit for many tourists to Sao Miguel Island.

The marina drew us . . .

After spending a morning exploring the town, we were drawn by the water, and the prospect of having a view to accompany a light lunch. We were walking along the rocky shore in what will someday be a revamped marina district of Vila Franca do Campo. Deadlines seem both non-existent and unimportant on this island, so there are no signs proclaiming a targeted completion date. 100_2211

With a couple of eateries to choose from, we picked the one closer to the water, Atlantico Restaurante & Grill, and were ushered upstairs to a pleasant dining room with a stunning view. It was late by island standards, apparently; other diners were close to finishing their meals, but we were welcomed nonetheless by a server who smilingly said we had plenty of time. The kitchen would not close until 3 p.m.

And so our first encounter with Portuguese dining began:

First the obligatory sampling of bread, olives, cheese, and this time, paper-thin sliced ham and a tasty sweet jam. Our orders came and were consumed, along with a bottle of chilled white wine, and the minutes ticked by.

 

It was well after 3 p.m. when we finished, and we bade goodbye to Michael, our waiter, who had spent time in Chicago, as we recall, and spoke perfectly idiomatic English. He seemed not to mind being kept after “quitting time,” and actually invited us back for dinner, but then told us the restaurant would be closed for the next couple of days due to an annual — and, apparently, quite raucous — fisherman’s celebration. Indeed, while we ate, workers continued to decorate the street outside; we suspect it was quite a party!

Another day, we visited Mariserra, once again for a late lunch, in Sao Roque, nearer the large city of Ponta Delgada. We had yet another delicious taste of island life, this time highlighted by a shareable fish stew, served with pasta in a tomatoey sauce, as well as perfectly-prepared garlic shrimp (two orders) and flavorful mussels.

 

Crafting a memorable visit . . .

We kept busy, but we relaxed completely, interspersing long beach strolls and walks along cobblestone streets with short excursions to the market and a day trip to Sete Cidades at the far end of Sao Miquel Island. We drove winding switchbacks to the rim of the now quiet volcano, and marveled at the sight of twin pristine lakes, one blue, one green, that fill the caldera. There are numerous hiking trails, with plenty of scenic overlooks for photo ops. 100_2257

We acted as “traffic cops” when a mama duck and her brood strolled through a lakeside parking lot, and we stopped to gaze in awe at an abandoned structure. Now covered in graffiti and spreading greenery, it must have once been an architectural gem. We never learned its history.

 

Another day we visited another shore, thoroughly enjoying a leisurely excursion to Cha Gorreana in Ribeira Grande. Family-owned and operated since 1883, the only surviving tea plantation in all of Europe is still farmed and harvested by time-honored methods, completely organic and pesticide-free. The tour and tea samples were free of charge, and we lingered at the site.

 

The story of how tea farming came to the Azores is fascinating, affirming that a volcanic island in the North Atlantic was a well-known destination to voyagers from the Orient and India, and by dealers in exotic spices and fruit, long before any of us might have guessed. Tea plantations arrived later, however. The tea harvest and processing is still done by hand, labor-intensive and a labor of love, as well as a booming business. Both black and green teas are wonderful.

A simple question . . .

“Meat or fish?” the proprietor asked, after he had brought our wine to a table perfectly situated near balcony windows, open just enough to let a light breeze waft through. 100_2440

We chose fish, but the meat platter served to nearby diners looked equally tempting.

We had stumbled, quite by accident, upon Fim de Seculo Restaurante in the heart of Maia, a coastal village not far from the tea plantation. We had hoped for a quiet late lunch in a cafe along the shore, but instead we found this charming upstairs dining room, accessed via the outdoor patio and ground floor bar, complete with blue and white tile murals, white linen tablecloths and a dark wooden staircase that has borne its share of footsteps over the years.

 

This was to be a leisurely lunch, punctuated with laughter, good wine and interesting conversation with the proprietor and his daughter, who, we learned, had just graduated with a degree in hospitality management. It ended on a sweet note: a platter of freshly-sliced Azorean pineapple, perfect in its simplicity.

We will not soon forget the experience, and we did not eat again that day!

Three days on this island only whetted our appetite. A twist of scheduling became a highlight of our trip. We boarded our flight to Lisbon with a twinge of regret, at the same time looking forward to a planned cork forest tour and some highly-anticipated beach time on the mainland, in addition to more good food in faraway places.

The travel bug and what to do about it

~ Adrienne Cohen ~ Leave a comment

It’s a recurring malady. I take a trip and come home. It’s nice to be home. But then I see an ad, watch a movie, flip through my photos, talk to a friend, read a new travel blog, hear a newscast about lower air fares — and I’m off again, at least in my mind.

The planning begins anew, and I find myself putting together itineraries, daydreaming about places, reading up on cultures, sampling recipes — all those things that make planning a trip so much fun.

Invariably, I book another trip.

On the spur of the moment . . .

This is by way of saying that we were recently off again — my husband and I — this time on a short trip, but one that took us — for the briefest of stays — to a place we’ve been wanting to visit for some time now: Havana, Cuba.

It was a last-minute excursion, another “too-good-to-resist” deal, this time for a five-day cruise aboard Royal Caribbean’s Majesty of the Seas, booked scarcely 30 days in advance.  It took only a glance at each other and a quick nod to make the final arrangements. It’s all about spontaneity, after all, isn’t it?

And this time, that happened, including a low introductory fare offered by Sun Country Airlines for new DFW-Tampa service. After flying with them on this inaugural route, we hope they like DFW as much as we like them; we were pleased by more than just the low fares, and would certainly consider flying with this Minneapolis-based airline to other sunny destinations!

When the details fall easily into place, it seems like destiny.

Details and more details

A visa is required for travel to Cuba, at a fee, of course. Forms stating the purpose of the trip must be filled out in duplicate by each person; approved categories of travel include “Support for the Cuban People” cultural exchange tours.

Last year, it was possible to qualify under a “People to People”category and simply spend time walking the streets of Havana, enchanted by old cars, local rum and cigars, music and dancing, dining out or searching for evidence of Ernest Hemingway.

Not so anymore.

Today, once again, visitors must participate in some sort of organized tour or program, or make arrangements before leaving home for well-choreographed and documented personal encounters with Cuban citizens. Records — including a daily journal — are to be kept for a period of five years, and there are restrictions, both on how and where Americans go and how they spend their money.

Reliable sources say that there is little chance of being checked, but the requirements are in place, and could be enforced. Still, in 2017, more than 600,000 Americans visited this island nation that has been essentially off limits since 1960. And 2018 promises to attract even more Americans, now that’s it’s possible to fly via scheduled airline directly from the United States to Havana.

U.S. government rules pertaining to Cuba travel are fluid. They were altered more than once even as the Obama administration first made it easier, then once again imposed additional restrictions on individual travel. Today it’s still impossible to go as a casual tourist, but it is relatively easy to book a flight or to arrive via cruise ship. American credit cards, with some exceptions, do not work, and currency must be exchanged for the local equivalent of the dollar, the CUC. Cubans still use the Peso, and the dual monetary system can be confusing.

It’s not as easy as crossing the border to either Canada or Mexico. But  the impediments did not dampen my enthusiasm.

Havana — Street Food and Vintage Cars

Planning for the journey could not have been more fun. We made contact with fellow travelers via the internet, and even booked a street food tour with another couple, along with their teenage daughter and Spanish exchange student. What fun to think about “fast food” in Havana!

The trip itinerary includes Key West, a much-loved destination since our days aboard our own cruising yacht. Returning to a well-known old eatery for a leisurely “back home” breakfast, snacking on conch fritters at a familiar beach bar and listening to a local musician at another casual waterside cafe are good enough reason to look forward to a quick stop in a favorite city.

A stroll to the “Southernmost Point” seemed in order to remember the times we previously posed there, looking towards Cuba and anticipating the day we could depart under our own power for the quick crossing. Traversing the 90 miles to dock in Havana would have been easy. Sadly, it was not to be.

This time, Key West was to become the jumping off point to Havana adventure, but with a big ship to take us there.

We were eager to experience it all!

A total of 12 hours in a foreign country might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but this trip seemed to offer a perfect sampler — the best possible way to evaluate if, how and when we would return. Or, alternatively, to conclude that a single sip is enough, and then to turn our sights toward other shores and begin planning for other trips. Either way, I knew from the beginning that the trip would hold some special memories and result in plenty of stories to tell.

Read my initial impressions of Cuba in The After Story on Sunday, October 28.

It’s the people, not the places . . .

~ Adrienne Cohen ~ Leave a comment

It’s good to get away, and sometimes it doesn’t seem to matter where the journey takes us; it’s the break from routine that’s important.

This time, though, it was all about the place. My husband and I, as those who know us (and those of you who read the previous post) know, spent the better part of a summer in Alaska 13 years ago. We traveled the Marine Highway of Southeast Alaska and numerous watery byways that led us to out-of-the-way villages and secluded coves. We went north to Skagway and Haines, west to Glacier Bay and Sitka, spent delightful days in Hoonah and Petersburg and bobbed gently “on the hook” with only stars and lapping waves for company. We visited Juneau, the capital, several times, and we had good times in Ketchikan, Alaska’s “first city.”

At the end of August we returned to the 49th state, arriving in Anchorage on a Friday evening to spend a few hours prior to embarking the next day on a seven-day voyage aboard Golden Princess. The trip would take us past impressive Hubbard Glacier and into Glacier Bay before visiting Skagway, Juneau and Ketchikan on a journey slated to end in Vancouver, British Columbia, the following Saturday morning.

It was not a trip we spent a lot of time planning. It was, in fact, a snap decision, made with a “why not” attitude, but with low expectations. We sandwiched it in between short trips to other destinations during August.

Some initial observations:

What we experienced surprised us. We were less than enamored by Anchorage, home to fully 40 percent, if not more, of Alaska’s residents. But, to be fair, we spent only a few hours there and during our brief visit we encountered delightful people. The city, however, is not pretty, apart from its surroundings.

Our appreciation for the spectacular natural beauty of Alaska emerged fully intact. Looking down on the Anchorage area from our airplane and seeing snow-capped distant peaks towering above the clouds was duly impressive. The water and the coastal vistas are incredible and the vast land seems to extend forever.

And the flowers — before I visited Alaska, I would not have believed there were flowers in what I considered a cold and desolate place. How wrong I was. They were — and still are — everywhere. Wild flowers and flowers in public parks; flowers on window sills and in shops, flowers filling huge municipal planters; flowers in airports and on the docks. Wildflowers along the highway. Gorgeous, colorful flowers. Everywhere!

On Saturday, we boarded a bus for the short drive to Whittier, a year-round deep-water port at the head of Prince William Sound. The trip allowed us a glimpse of white Beluga whales in the waters of Turnagain Arm and a herd of Dall sheep navigating a craggy bluff on the other side of the highway.

It’s exciting, to be sure, to wear jackets and knit caps in August, even if we did have to don rain gear as well. We visited the Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center to see wood bison and musk ox, wolves and porcupines, bear and moose, deer and foxes.

We continued on through the engineering marvel of a tunnel that gives the only land access to Whittier. It is shared (on a one-way basis) by passenger vehicles, buses, trucks and the train!

A floating city . . .

Once aboard, we began to settle in to the life of a floating city with 2,600 other people — not difficult, actually, with the wealth of activities and the pleasant mix of public and private spaces. Every day seems a celebration on board a modern cruise ship.

What we knew we would miss was the feeling of being close to the water — the sound of the waves, the experience of cold fingers and blasts of wind as we dropped anchor or secured the lines of our vessel to the metal cleats of well-worn wooden docks. We missed the camaraderie we felt with fishing boat captains as they put away their gear after a long day; and we missed the hot coffee and good conversation that was always available in cluttered dockmasters’ offices.

We also missed seeing whale spouts and fish jumping just above the swells, gulls and eagles trailing fishing boats and circling above small docks, the occasional family of sea otters looking for refuge in a marina, and eye-level contact with those splashing waves and floating chunks of ice. Looking down on the water from a deck 70 or more feet above it, or searching for native wildlife through binoculars and behind protective glass has nowhere near the same effect.

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What we enjoyed was the companionship of other passengers, especially our delightful dinner tablemates, talking with fellow travelers from not only other states, but from Australia and New Zealand, from Germany and England, from Mexico and from Asia. We appreciated the perfectly prepared fresh fish and seafood that was offered at every meal, the smiling service of bartenders and waiters, the helpfulness of the crew, the variety of outdoor deck space from which to view changing vistas of glaciers and icebergs, mountains and clouds.

We were blessed with sunshine for at least a part of every day, somewhat unusual for this part of Alaska.

We also appreciated having the assistance of other eyes to help spot whales and otters, eagles, bears, seals and porpoises. And, yes, we did spot some, although we yearned to see more! The ship reverberated with a chorus of delight for each occurrence. We were thrilled once again to visit Glacier Bay. The naturalists and Park Rangers who came aboard were interesting and knowledgeable. It was a learning experience, and it was good to have their input.

We heard the “thunder” of glaciers as they calved, and realized anew that listening to the natural sounds of Alaska is mesmerizing.

‘Tis the season . . .

We could have done without the proliferation of t-shirt and key chain shops, furriers and jewelry stores, harborside kiosks and lines of tour buses and waiting guides. But then we realized that they were very much a part of port life 13 years ago as well.

As Alaska residents acknowledge, the season is short and it’s tourism that turns the wheels of commerce in the ports of Southeast Alaska. Life after October settles back into familiar patterns and the majesty of the land becomes once again the personal domain of those who call Alaska home.

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Travel is enlightening in many ways. But it’s not the places; it’s the people one meets.

We sought out those people on this trip. And we were rewarded tenfold! Friendly residents are more than willing to talk about their lives, their cities, their families and their experiences. As always, we were fascinated to learn about daily life as it is lived outside the pages of guidebooks.

We always asked for local recommendations for food. In Anchorage, we were directed to a popular local brew pub, and were immediately befriended by a local resident only too willing to share his views on everything from oil drilling to recreational cannabis, from the Northern Lights to politics. The next morning we had cafe au lait and warm croissants at the charming Paris Cafe, a short stroll from our hotel.

In Skagway, there was a wait at “the best place in town to eat,” but the wait was worth it — and we were notified by text message when our table was ready. Skagway may be small and remote, but there’s no shortage of technology! WP_20180821_12_44_28_ProWe were rewarded with perfectly prepared fish, crispy chips and superb local brew.

We took a short bus ride to White Pass, following the path traversed by miners with gold fever, and snapped photos at the border between the United States and Canada, “Gateway to the Klondike.” We walked around Skagway for just a short time before retreating back to our ship as it began to rain. Skagway has changed little, but with four cruise ships in town, it was crowded!

That afternoon, before slipping lines and heading south to Juneau, a program by “real Alaskan” Steve Hites, one of the 1,057 full-time Skagway residents, was a highlight of the trip. Accompanied by guitar and harmonica, the 64-year-old songwriter, storyteller and tour operator charmed listeners with a 40-minute history of “his” Alaska, and the small town he knows so well.

In Juneau and Ketchikan, once again we asked for local food tips and were given the names of two eateries slightly beyond the tourist mainstream. At both, The Flight Deck in Juneau, and again in Ketchikan at The Dirty Dungee, we devoured fresh-caught Dungeness crab, and couldn’t have been happier!

About traveling to Alaska . . .

My heartfelt advice to anyone considering an Alaska cruise?

GO!

My husband and I realize that we were privileged to be able to experience the state as we did — on our own — and that trip will remain in our hearts as a unique experience.

We remember how small we felt while on our boat, especially one morning in Juneau as we awoke to the presence of a massive cruise ship snuggled against the dock directly in front of our vessel.

101_0747As luck would have it, on this trip Golden Princess occupied that slip, and we wondered if the private yacht owners felt as dwarfed as we had that long ago morning.

The allure of Alaska has not diminished for us. We shared the excitement of first-time visitors on this cruise. And we understand clearly the sentiments of those who return again and again. There are many ways to travel to this unique state, from “big-ship” cruises to private vessels, land-sea combos, fly-in fishing or sightseeing trips and active expedition cruises. The Alaska State Ferry runs north from Bellingham, Wash., year round, and the Al-Can Highway provides an unparalleled opportunity for those who love road trips. There are summer work opportunities for college students, and the tourist industry brings part-time residents every season. There is no one-size-fits-all recipe for visiting Alaska.

Absolutely, go to experience the place — the stunning scenery with majestic peaks and pristine water, the wilderness, the waterfalls and the icy blue glaciers. Look for wildlife, of course, and marvel when you spot a whale or a group of bears on shore, eagles in the trees, or otters in the sea. Eat your fill of freshly-caught fish and seafood. Snap Selfies. Take tours. Buy trinkets.

But go especially to meet the people! Dinner companions often become lasting friends. At the very least, casual encounters with shopkeepers, restaurant servers, tour guides, ship’s staff, and the people you stop to talk with on the street linger as lasting reminders of the trip  even when memories of specific sights begin to fade.

Cruising is invariably a pleasure, no matter what the ports.  And Alaska still lives up to its moniker as the American “last frontier.” It’s a big adventure!

So, yes, go to Alaska!   

Will we return? Perhaps not. But we would not hesitate to do so. It’s that good!

Grandmother’s lessons

~ Adrienne Cohen ~ Leave a comment

Thanksgiving was low-key at my house this year. Not that there isn’t an abundance of things to be thankful for, but our small multi-generational family had an abundance of plans for the extended holiday. We gathered Thursday for what was to be a simple midday meal, before scattering in different directions to enjoy the long weekend.

What was to have been a small turkey breast to serve five (with enough left for a few sandwiches) became a 12-pound turkey. (The market had no fresh breasts available, and we had not built thawing time into the schedule; the option was a “smallish” fresh bird.)

The rest of it? A mix of traditional and easy prep. One large — overly large, as it turned out — fresh from the garden salad that boasted tiny boiled potatoes, green beans and dried cranberries. Roasted yams and wild rice stood in for mashed potatoes and cornbread stuffing. Savory pumpkin gratin, recipe courtesy of Jacques Pepin, homemade cranberry-orange relish, and a freshly-baked Challah, as pretty to look at as it was good to eat, kept kitchen prep time to a minimum.WP_20171123_14_01_38_ProAs usual, “simple” morphed into too much!

Friday, we were content with turkey sandwiches, salad and television movies. Saturday was a quiet day, with only a few must-do’s, and no plans for a “real” meal. Snacking at will was the order of the day.

When faced with options, make soup

I am grateful that my grandmothers were good cooks, and that I had a chance to hang out in their kitchens many years ago, not only during holiday preparations, but afterwards as well.

I learned the truth of “Waste not, want not,” and I learned to “make do” and make meals out of what was on hand. I also learned that simple meals are best!

Those were lessons well learned.

So, for Saturday supper, soup it was. Pan drippings and turkey parts that would have become gravy had we served mashed potatoes and dressing on Thursday became the catalyst. Leftover wild rice added heartiness. Fresh celery, carrots and onions, constant staples in the refrigerator crisper, are the basis of any good homemade soup, right? And leftover Challah is still delicious!

It was a large pot of soup, enough to feed son and daughter-in-law who stopped in unexpectedly Saturday evening, with enough “left over” for Sunday lunch.

No pie, you say? Well, not exactly!

It bears repeating that our Thanksgiving was pared down and simplified in many ways. There was no pie — not pumpkin, not apple, mince or pecan. No brownies, no ice cream. Apples and oranges, yes, but even they went untouched. None of us suffered from a lack of food; desserts were not missed.

However, I had purchased pie crusts, just in case. (No, I do not see any reason to make my own!)

So, for tonight’s dinner, the plan is to have Turkey Pot Pie. Actually, I can picture it already: Colorful carrots, peas and potatoes joining small bits of turkey meat, oozing with creamy goodness and threatening to bubble up through the golden crust. Chilled (leftover) cranberry sauce will add color and tart flavor to the simple dinner. With a green salad, it will be nutritious and more than ample.

Will one pie suffice to clear the refrigerator of leftovers? I am not yet sure, but if there’s enough turkey to make two, I will be happy to have an extra to pull from the freezer.

On this weekend, especially, I am thankful to have the blessings of home and family, a warm, comfortable hearth, good health and good food.

And those leftovers!

Good food is all about . . .

~ Adrienne Cohen ~ Leave a comment

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I met a 10-year-old a couple of weeks ago who told me in all seriousness that if he were offered a choice between doughnuts and salad, he would have to go with salad. He volunteered that tidbit after telling me that he liked all vegetables, especially salad greens. I had asked about his favorite lettuce, and he answered “Romaine” with no hesitation.

We were standing in the demonstration greenhouse of DFW Aquaponics Farms in Burleson, Texas, where I was photographing lettuces, chives, kale, Swiss chard and tomatoes in various stages of development. I had heard the young boy talking with his dad about how delicious the produce looked, even though many of the plants weren’t yet mature and the tomatoes were still green.

I’m not sure that at age 10 I even realized that there were different varieties of lettuce. I ate salad, I think, because at that age I ate most of what was put in front of me. It was simple food. I grew up during the days of family meals served at home, punctuated by an occasional sandwich at the downtown drug store soda fountain as a Saturday treat.

I vividly remember the taste of those sandwiches, and the special delight of a fountain Coke! To this day I occasionally long for a real fountain drink, rich with syrup and bubbly from the seltzer.

I also remember that home-cooked food varied by the season. Winter brought soups and stews, spring and summer were filled with fresh salads, bright peas and juicy watermelon, and fall was full of crunchy apples, and tasty pumpkin, squash and spices.

Because I was a city girl, I knew little about growing food. But I knew that when the right season rolled around, there were ways to judge the ripeness of fruit and vegetables.

However, had I been given a choice, I am certain I would have opted for a chocolate chip cookie, a scoop of ice cream, or even a just-picked strawberry over a ripe carrot or a stalk of fresh romaine, no matter what the season.

Today, like that 10-year-old, I too prefer salad over doughnuts, although ice cream is still as tempting as that fountain Coke.

I have learned what I am sure my farm-raised grandparents knew: Freshly-picked and locally-harvested food tastes good. It’s that simple. It’s immensely satisfying to create a salad or an entire meal from what one has grown.

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Today, because of greenhouses and modern technology, it’s possible to grow fresh food — including salad greens and seasonal produce, year-round in many different locales.

I am not still not committed to growing my own food, but I certainly understand the motivation. Luckily, at least in my area, farm stands, local markets and community-supported agriculture (CSAs) are increasingly popular. Fresh, seasonal, locally-grown, non-processed food is available. It’s a good time to experience the joy — and the flavor, texture, color and fun — of good, fresh produce any time of year. It’s simply better.

I am delighted when spring arrives and local farmers markets spring to life with colorful carrots, new potatoes, bulbous onions, butterhead lettuce and showy Swiss chard. Later I wait for the melons to ripen and still later I search out the most beautiful eggplant and squash — as much for their vibrant color as for their taste!

Food is always an adventure — whether picked from the garden and prepared at home, created by an award-winning chef at a renowned restaurant, or purchased from a trendy food truck at a community festival. I continue to learn new things about food and about people, no matter what the occasion or where in the world.

It was here at home that I learned another lesson about food. Kudos to my 10-year-old “teacher,” and to his dad for showing him the way.

Teach them young, they say . . .