The thing about Michigan that still fills me with awe is the trees. It’s not that there aren’t trees in Colorado, of course. But you really can’t compare the trees in our home state with the trees in Michigan.
Many years ago, we packed our family of five into our Honda Pilot and drove from Colorado to Virginia. It was our first trip East and I couldn’t get over the trees. I was astounded at how you could be driving down a major highway next to a large city and not even know the city was there because it’s completely hidden by trees.
We would look at our map while passing by and exclaim with wonder that there’s a whole city right there! We’d watch the tops of the trees for ridiculously tall fast food, hotel, and big box store signs as evidence that a whole population of people really did live right there!
If you’ve never been to Colorado, you might be picturing forests of pine trees and aspen, which it does have. But nearly 90% of Coloradans live on the Front Range and the Eastern Plains, a combined flat expanse of land that makes up nearly half of the state, sits a mile above sea level, and gets very little rain.
It’s not the kind of land that grows forests of trees so dense they hide entire cities. In fact, nothing is hidden on the plains of Colorado. You can see for miles and miles in every direction.
In Colorado, we work very hard to get things growing and keep them growing. Our first experience in parts of the country where everyone works hard to keep the growth from taking over everything was striking.
So it’s not very surprising that as we sailed from Northern Michigan all the way to the Upper Peninsula earlier this month, I kept commenting on all the trees.
The shore of Lake Michigan is marked by thousands of homes with one side in the forest and the other side on the beach. This is, to me, the best of everything. A perfect example of how, sometimes, you actually can have your cake and eat it too.
As we bobbed along in the water, I kept zooming in on one house or another and imagining what it’s like to move from a dense forest to the open water just by walking from the front door to the back patio. Incredible.
The other thing, of course, that amazes this Colorado girl is the water. So much water.
There is no such thing as low water pressure in Michigan. It pours from hoses, spigots, and showerheads with a criminal abundance that feels so decadent as to be alarming to those of us who are used to monitoring and measuring every drop. In Colorado, a leaky water spout is a pressing concern in need of immediate attention. All that wasted water! We fret about the brown spots on our lawn and mark the calendar with the days we are allowed to water it. We xeriscape our yards, using drought-tolerant plants and efficient irrigation, and calculate how much water it will take to maintain the small patch of grass in the middle of it.
In Michigan, every water spout leaks and no one even notices.
The people here live next to 1.3 quadrillion gallons of fresh water. Did you know quadrillion is an actual word? I didn’t.
And that’s just Lake Michigan. Lake Superior dwarfs the entire system, containing more water than Lake Michigan, Huron, Erie, and Ontario combined. Four out of the five Great Lakes border Michigan. It has 3,200 miles of coastline. Coastline covered in trees.
Water and trees. Michigan has more than its fair share and we’ve luxuriated in it. We’ve been here since early May, and the abundance of so much water and so many trees still feels decadent. It is impressive how quickly we humans learn to take things for granted, but 5 months a year isn’t quick enough when you spent the first 45 years of your life in Colorado.
This is the thing that’s hard to explain to people who’ve lived here all of their lives. The water and the trees are normal, a nuisance even. They are things to manage. Which is not to say that Michiganders do not enjoy them. They do.
But it’s difficult when you are, for example, talking to the 80-year-old on the boat next to you who has lived here his whole life and spent more years boating than you’ve been alive, about why you are so nervous and uncertain about things that, for him, are as normal as brushing his teeth.
How to explain that so much water and no direct line of sight to anything is, at times, so very disorienting? How it feels like my brain can’t quite get a foothold on where exactly I am in the world? I’ve never been good with direction, but in Colorado I can be a hundred miles from the Rocky Mountains and still keep them in sight. They are an anchor that says, this is west.
And also, mygod, I love it here.
On Sunday night, after returning home to our RV after 16 days on a sailboat, I could still see the waves when I closed my eyes. Ghost waves, rolling past my closed eyelids, my mind not ready to make the transition from water to land. On Monday morning, as I walked to the kitchen to start the coffee, I felt the solid ground beneath me gently rock and sway. I reached to grip the edge of the countertop and smiled at how easily the movement of the water embedded itself in my bones.
Still relatively inexperienced sailors, we gained a substantial amount of experience over our two-week journey. One day brought eight-foot waves; the next, water so calm and glassy it perfectly reflected the sky. We sweltered in the heat and bundled up in our winter jackets. We wished for wind, then worked hard to manage our sails in gusts approaching 30 knots. We got sunburned and rained on. We found our slip in an unfamiliar marina in the dark and became very, very good at docking our boat in unfamiliar places. We even learned to tolerate sleeping in very tight quarters. Well… almost.
Somewhere along the way, since our first sailing class last summer, the unfamiliar has begun to feel less frightening and more like home.
At one point I joked that we were doing more camping on this trip than we’d done in 6 1/2 years of living in campgrounds. It’s funny because it’s true. We may live in campgrounds, but our RV is more of a tiny home than a camper. We do not camp in the campgrounds we visit.
But, on the boat we tuck ourselves into a tiny bed, cook simple meals made mostly from nonperishable ingredients, rely on public facilities, and spend almost all of our time outside. We’ve always said that we’re not into roughing it, but apparently, in some circumstances, we are. Even more remarkable - we love it.
In some ways, Michigan has begun to feel as much like home as Colorado ever did. But not so much that I’ve lost my sense of wonder at all those trees, all that water, and the ghost waves that still dance behind my closed eyelids as I drift off to sleep.
Welcome to Let’s Get Lost! I’m Rebecca, a recipe developer, food photographer, passionate people watcher, and chaser of new experiences. You might know me from my recipe websites, Of Batter and Dough and A Little and A Lot.
My husband and I are nomads without a home base but with many modes of transportation, namely an RV, a motorcycle, and a sailboat. I write recipes and stories for curious people who believe experiences are more important than things and who want more adventure.
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9 ways to say goodbye to summer and hello to fall
Here’s the other thing I want to tell you about our 2 week sailing trip before I share some photos: I had every intention of working a little bit from the boat. On day one, I knew it wasn’t going to happen. I checked out so completely that I feel actually stunned to find myself in the middle of September.
And yet, here we are. The days are cooler, the leaves are just starting to change, and summer is almost over.
So, in lieu of this week’s menu, I have 9 ways to say goodbye to summer and hello to fall. Maybe you’re ready, maybe you’re not. Either way, I hope there’s a meal or two in this list that will ease the transition.
Chicken and Apples with Mushrooms in Cider Cream Sauce. Tender pieces of chicken swimming in a sweet and savory apple cider cream sauce with caramelized mushrooms and golden, buttery apples. This dish will blanket your whole home with the warm, rich smells and flavors of fall.
Fried Summer Squash with Chimichurri Sauce. This is the time of year when I can pick up some fresh summer squash and a winter squash in the same supermarket trip. So why not enjoy them both? This super simple technique for crispy fried summer squash produces a light, lacy golden fry that makes the perfect side dish or appetizer.
Quinoa Stuffed Acorn Squash. The recipe just happens to be vegan and therefore dairy free but makes exactly zero sacrifices on flavor or that hearty stick-to-your-ribs feeling we all start to crave when the temperature drops and the days are short.
Spanish Seared Pork Bites with Fried Apples. Bite size pieces of pork tenderloin are coated in a Spanish inspired dry rub, sautéed quickly in oil until tender and juicy, tossed with lemon juice, honey, olive oil, and fresh oregano, and served with green apples that have been sautéed in butter and brown sugar.
Smoky Poblano Corn Chowder with Potatoes, Bacon, and Cream Cheese. This is an exceptionally thick, smoky, poblano-forward corn chowder that's loaded with roasted peppers, potatoes and bacon, with cream cheese for richness and smoked Gouda that doubles down on the smoky flavor.
Creamy Navy Bean Soup with Ham. Oh, but this creamy navy bean soup is so, so good. It’s hearty, meaty, and more flavorful than bean soup has any business being. Do you know the kind of person who thinks soup isn’t a meal? Make this for them and they will change their mind. Guaranteed.
Apple Streusel Cake. This is the kind of simple, satisfying cake that you can make anytime for anything and it will be exactly the right thing.
Apple Upside Down Cake. This apple upside down cake includes a thick layer of apples drenched in an excessive amount of buttery caramel sauce, because in my opinion that gooey baked-on-the-bottom sauce is the best part of an upside down cake.
Peach Crumble with Coconut and Almonds. If you are lucky enough to still have some summer peaches hanging around, this is what to do with them. Juicy peaches at the peak of sweetness baked into a saucy base under a crispy, crumbly coconut and almond topping for just the right amount of nutty, sugary crunch.
Road Food: Good food that travels well
Whether you’re heading across the country, across the world, or simply across town, this series of recipes is made for life on the move. They’re easy to make, easy to pack, and taste just as good hours later as they do fresh from the kitchen. Perfect for road trips, boat days, beach days, picnics, hikes, airplanes, potlucks, packed lunches, busy weeknights, and anywhere else you need to go.
This series of recipes is exclusively for members of The Lost Supper Club (paid subscribers).
Previous Road Food Recipes:
Mediterranean White Bean Pasta Salad
One of the things I’ve been doing for years on travel days, when we are moving from one campground to another, is packing hearty salads into jars and tucking them into the cooler. This allows us to eat lunch inside the truck, usually at a truck stop, with everything contained neatly within our individual jars.
Since adding a sailboat to our modes of transportation, I’ve learned that lunch in a jar is also the perfect meal while sailing. But honestly, this is the kind of salad that travels well in almost any situation—packed lunches, hikes, picnics, beach days… you get the picture.
It doesn’t, of course, have to be packed into jars. A few weeks ago, I brought a bowl of this salad to a potluck with friends. It’s the kind of easy salad that can be prepared in advance, tossed together quickly, and goes well with anything.
This is also the kind of recipe in which every single ingredient should be taken as a suggestion, not a rule. Add anything you like—additional vegetables, herbs, or pickled things like banana peppers. Swap anything you don’t particularly like for something you do. And add more or less of anything to your heart’s content.
When Steve and I eat this for lunch as a main dish, I usually add some protein. Tuna, rotisserie chicken, and hard-boiled eggs are my go-to choices. But if you want to keep it plant-based, add some nuts and seeds or simply increase the ratio of beans to pasta.
The Lost Supper Club
To all my paid subscribers: This newsletter would not exist without your generous support. The CookStack Collective classes and the new Road Food series are exclusively available to you. They are two ways for me to say thank you.
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Such fabulous photos. Thank you for sharing.
This newsletter filled me up in every way possible! Thank you.
I must admit the picture of the scary waves brought me some anxiety.