Rye Cooks

Leaving it All Behind

We spent 9 days sailing in the British Virgin Islands, in a party of four families, split between two 50' catamarans and no one but ourselves to depend on, in the face of high wind, rolling waves, ripped jibs, broken down generators and so forth.

Luckily, the worst thing we enountered was sour milk delivery, a bit too much rain and not quite enough chocolate on the boats to keep everyone happy. 

There were so many great moments, and great meals to talk about, but I'll get to that. For now, I want to examine our process of leaving the USA.  Twelve days before we were set to fly, we checked our passports, and yes, our children's passports were expired. Note: Not by much.

I contacted the official agency, since we were within 14 days of flight, we were given an appointment for the office in Norwalk, CT.  This was to be a family event, all minors must appear in person, with both parents, or offer up a notorized statement that the non-appearing parent gives permission for the kids to get passports for international travel.

We were given a 10:30 appointment and it turns out that almost all of the other people on line were also given a 10:30.  Several people groaned and mentioned how long they were already standing in line.  Most of us got there early, as if we could possibly make up for the idiocy of letting our passports lapse by being extra early at the federal office.

It did occur to me that it was truly a wonderful civil gift, this whole building and all the employees in it were there to help us, the laggards, get on a plane and go on vacation.  

When we were called up, the woman was very nice to the kids.  They each had to raise their right hand and swear that the (unflattering) 2 X 2 photo is a current likeness of each of them and then sign full names on to the forms.  It actually felt like a special, ceremonial right of passage.  Sending it all in through the post office may be something of a disappointment, 5 years from now, when these shiny passports will expire.

 

Jelly Donuts

In past years, we would pick up the kids on the last day of school and head out to the Atlantic Terrace in Montauk, NY.  Otherwise known as The End.  Montauk is the laid back, shoes not always required, part of the east end of Long Island. I did recently read in the Times that even Montauk is becoming an address to have. Hard to believe, but I digress.

My focus here is the Montauk Bake Shoppe.  Inexplicable, that extra pe.  Anyway, the most amazing jelly croissants are sold here.  Or really, jelly twists, with some of the extra crispy sugar getting caught in the twist.  The jelly is a lurid pinkish red.  It is almost unappetizing in its brightness.  However, one bite and you can lose your mind in the sensational taste.

A good friend is currently out in Montauk and (hilariously), called me for DIRECTIONS to the Montauk Bake Shoppe.  I did my best (it's a little past that bookstore, not yet at the really big surf shop) and I truly hope we did not lose cell phone contact when I answered YES, I would love you to bring some home for me.  YES!  I will pick up your newspapers, water your plants, etc, just bring me back some of those psychedelic jelly twists!!

So, Eat a little something

 

This past weekend was a big event for my sister's family.  She, her husband and two boys live in Maryland, and the rest of us are here in the northeast. 

We drove down on Friday and participated in what we called the "Chicken Dinner" at her synagogue. The chicken was really tasty, and more importantly, it was a simple way for all of the people who traveled to be together and share a meal.

Early the next day, we watched and listened as my nephew delivered a near-professional Torah reading, done so melodiously, that although many in the audience would not have recognized a mistake, we all knew it was spot on.

Then on to the big party, big cake, dancing and party gifts for all.  Afterward, their house for more food and talk.  Leaving that get together, it was almost funny to hear people were asking "Will I see you at the brunch tomorrow?"  Many of us had eaten more in the last 24 hours than should be legally allowed. 

But the after- party and the brunch were just excuses to sneak in more socializing; the mix of relatives and long time friends just wanted a few more laughs together. Sometimes the food is the star, and sometimes it is just a conduit.