How to run away
Also, how to stay. +Chicken glazed with lemon, honey, and lime, fresh corn salad, peach crumble, and spicy white bean harissa dip.
It’s late. We are at the top of Lookout Mountain in Golden, Colorado, 7,000 feet above the Denver skyline on a summer evening in 2018, and I am losing my shit.
I’m crying and talking way too loud. Steve is doing his best to calm me down but I’ve hit a breaking point and am starting to panic.
Let’s rephrase: Panic is in the driver’s seat.
I am desperate for him to understand something that is more true than anything else I’ve ever felt: I want to run away. I need to run away. To finally get out of the state I was born in and go somewhere new. Somewhere else. Somewhere I haven’t lived for my entire life.
On that evening in 2018, I was 43 years old and had lived in the same part of the same state for my whole life. I was born in a small town in eastern Colorado and when I was 6 years old, my parents moved us to Brighton.
At the time, Brighton was a small farming town that wasn’t far from Denver but felt like it was. By the time I was in high school, Brighton was threatening to grow into a proper Denver suburb. But in 2018 the town felt more like a 40-year-old kid still living in his parents’ basement. I don’t know why, but some cities have a failure to launch problem. And, no disrespect to those who love the town, but Brighton has never quite reached its potential.
I met Steve in 1992 at Brighton High School. I was a senior, he was a junior, and we married just a few months after he graduated. For the first few years of our married life, we lived in several Denver suburbs, out of Brighton but not far away.
In 2003, we moved back. We had three kids and the grandparents were there. We bought a house and thought we’d live there until the kids were teenagers, then move somewhere else… somewhere we chose, not somewhere that chose us.
But there I was in 2018, on the top of Lookout Mountain, freaking the fuck out because we were still living in Brighton, Colorado. I thought we might never get out.
At some point, at the top of that mountain, Steve got it. He took my face in his hands and said calmly but with conviction, “By my next birthday, we’ll get out of here, I promise.” It was late summer and his birthday isn’t until June, but I stopped crying and took a deep breath. We had a deadline. I had an escape route.
A lot has been written about the importance of deep social connections and the benefits of being a part of a community. All of it true, all of it necessary to our happiness and wellbeing.
And also, there are some of us, perhaps all of us, who want to run away. We may not admit it, but we’ve entertained fantasies of leaving. Of packing only the essentials and taking off to a place where no one knows us and we can be anyone we want to be. There is an electrifying thrill to the idea of starting over.
I had been trying to run away my whole life. It didn’t happen by Steve’s next birthday, but it did happen. In 2020, when I was 45 years old, we finally drove away from the town we grew up in, the place we met and raised our kids, the place I’d been trying to escape for decades.
When we did, it was under the most terrible grief I’ve ever known. We’ve said that travel saved us, but that suggests leaving for a time and then coming back home. We didn’t do that.
We ran away. Running away saved us.
I have been thinking a lot lately about this common desire to run away. About how often it shows up in books and movies, and how escaping into someone else’s story for a while can sometimes scratch that itch.
We thrill at the boldness of those who embark on grand adventures, far from home, with unknown dangers and wonders around every corner. We love stories of escape, of happily-ever-afters found at the end of a long and arduous journey. We delight in tales of secrets, lies, disguises, and people who aren’t quite what they seem. We are captivated by stories of people running from things that happened long ago and far away. We eat it up. We can’t get enough.
My story is, unquestionably, about running away. But it’s also a story of staying.
I have stayed, for nearly 32 years, in a happy, fulfilling marriage that wasn’t always so. I have been doing the same job since 2013, a job I love but that also pushes me to my limits. Some of my closest friends have been in my life for decades. When the kids were young and it felt like the walls were closing in, I stayed. When our son died, our now family of four turned in, toward each other, forming a kind of fortress that, despite the miles between us, remains impenetrable and unmovable.
I know how to run, but I also know how to stay.
And maybe that’s what every single one of us is trying to do in one way or another. We are trying to find the delicate balance between leaving what we need to leave, shaking the dust from our heels and not looking back, and staying when we need to stay, stubbornly steadfast, feet firmly planted, even when it’s hard.
Both things can be true. Both things are true.
As a non-coincidental aside, I realize while writing this that running away in one form or another is embedded in the people watching stories I’ve written and shared here.
There’s Edna, who ran away from the expectations, conventions, norms, rules, desires, and opinions of other people.
There’s Erin, who ran away from her midwestern family, but not too far, to create a life where she could be as loud as she likes and live a life of adventure without actually having to be adventurous.
And Roger and Caroline, who run away in pieces, wandering aimlessly to nowhere in particular, piecing themselves back together one road trip at a time.
And Henry, who represents hundreds of people we’ve encountered at campgrounds across the country. People who have the urge for adventure and heed the call to the extent they are ready for it, should they ever gather the courage to go.
And even Joey, who hasn’t run away yet, but who I think will find his escape route someday soon.
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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This week’s menu
Pan-Fried Chicken Thighs with Honey Lemon Chili Glaze
This dish is so packed with color and flavor you won’t believe how simple it is to throw it together.
Give chicken thighs a 20-minute soak (longer if you like) in lemon juice and chili garlic sauce then fry to crispy perfection. Add some honey to the marinade, coat the chicken with this sweet and spicy glaze, and finish them in the oven. The skin gets crisp and crackly and becomes completely infused with the flavors of lemon, honey, and chilies.
After roasting, simply reduce the pan juices into a spicy-sweet syrupy glaze and serve over lemon-dressed greens and wild rice.
This dish is basically all my favorite flavors on one plate. If you’re nodding your head in agreement right now, I guarantee you’ll love this recipe as much as we do.
Fresh corn salad
This could be an excellent addition to the new Road Food Series because it’s so effortless to make and easy to transport. But it’s actually a recipe I created last summer while living on our sailboat, on a day when it was way too hot to turn on the stovetop.
The salad requires no cooking, takes less than 20 minutes to prepare, and will keep well for at least 24 hours. It's perfect for backyard cookouts, packed lunches, picnics, camping trips, road trips, or days spent on the beach or on the water! I like to pack it in small, individually portioned mason jars tucked inside a cooler.
Peach Crumble with Coconut and Almonds
A while back, I baked this peach coffee cake, which has a toasted coconut, almond, and brown sugar crumb topping that I wanted to eat by the spoonful. (I might have even done so.)
I’m kind of obsessed with it and want to put it on everything. And because peaches are so good right now, it seemed like a good idea to use it as a topping for peach crumble. And, yes, yes it was a very good idea.
The August CookStack Collective Class!
The CookStack Collective is a monthly live Zoom class featuring a different chef, fresh recipes, and the chance to cook along, ask questions, and learn directly from some very talented cooks.
Access to The CookStack Collective is exclusively for members of The Lost Supper Club (paid subscribers). If that’s you, you’ll see a registration link below for the August class and I hope you can join us!
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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.
Spicy White Bean Harissa Dip
This dip is the kind of thing you could take anywhere. Even on a Friday night sunset sail.
It’s snack food that could easily be the whole meal. Because it’s made from beans, it’s high in fiber and protein, plus all the other good stuff that beans contain.
Also, there’s no mayonnaise or sour cream in this recipe, so it’s a little more forgiving when it comes to sitting out for a while.
Toss in a bag of tortilla chips, some pita bread, crackers, or veggie sticks. What more could you need?
Okay… As I typed that, I thought of what else I needed. Cheese. Any kind, but this marinated feta has many of the same flavors and would pair beautifully with this dip. Also, I’d like some roasted nuts and some dried fruit. Please and thank you.
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The NEW Road Food series
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That menu is calling my name! Everything is in season now, too. We are eating fresh corn, beans, and tomatoes to our hearts content. 😋 BTW, I'm so glad you stayed. Otherwise, I probably never would have met you.