New London is a special place. In 1943, my great grandparents purchased a house one block from the beach in New London, Connecticut. At the time, it was a summer getaway from West Hartford. Over the years, the beach house has become a hang out for my whole extended family – grandparents, great aunts and uncles, first and second cousins, first and second cousins once removed, and a revolving cast of friends. It’s the same brisket-eating crowd I talked about earlier.
Credit: Marney Pollack
Even though my immediate family only went to New London once or twice a summer, I have collected a trove of memories I will always cherish. Continue reading
Every kid loves a good school field trip. Freedom from the usual routine was always highly anticipated, and we all looked forward to the handful of times each year we were able to learn outside the four walls of our classroom.
My best (and worst) field trip memories:
3rd grade: Mushroom Capital of the World. School biology unit on the fungi kingdom. Hoping it was an exotic location. Discovering it was a 40 minute bus ride to another quiet suburb of Philadelphia, Kennett Square. Dark, damp rooms of the mushroom museum. Worst museum gift shop ever. Inspiration for this recipe, almost 20 years later. Continue reading
In my house growing up, special days always began with special breakfasts.
Today, the empirical evidence is clear that eating breakfast is a good thing, but back when I was little, it was more of a parental hunch. I remember test days at school – the ERBs in 2nd grade, the PSSAs in 4th grade, the PSATs in 10th grade, and the SATs, SAT IIs, ACTs, and APs in 11th and 12th grades. On test mornings, my mom sent my dog into my room earlier than normal to jump onto my bed and wake me up with a curious lick or a paw in the face. Downstairs in the kitchen, my dad was the master egg-scrambler, always assuming that I could down 4 eggs in a sitting. I remember him telling me that his eggs were sure to give me the extra protein I needed to keep my brain running during endless hours of staring at a Scantron sheet. Continue reading