This week-end I am in Cambridge.
After the east coast snowstorm. So that flying in, I feel I am diving into a Midwestern winter. But wait, this isn't Madison. I'm by the ocean! And the snow is melting.
A curious thing happens (foodwise) when I land on the east coast: suddenly, I crave regional fare. We’re smug back home in Wisconsin about the goodness of cheese and brats and brats and cheese, but I really do miss coastal fare. And so within minutes of my arrival, my girl and I head toward the Summer Shack, so that I can bite into a lobster roll with slaw on the side. Oh, oops: and a Massachusetts oyster sampler.
A noticeable difference between being 24 and 55 is that at my age, there isn’t much that you can get me to do after dinner. My daughter takes off for the remainder of the evening and I retreat. This is where we are in life, right? She’s still exploring. Me, I want time to sit back and think about all that I’ve seen today.
