a p p a r e n t l y

Bon Appetit magazine publishes a column called RSVP, where readers write in to rave about some fabulous dish they ordered at a restaurant and to ask the magazine to procure the recipe. I actually sent a request once, for the white bean soup with arugula and pumpkin oil from MOMA’s Terrace 5, but as far as I know, it was never pursued or printed. I have a feeling that my next must-have recipe would go unnoticed as well.

The Apparently family has been to Woodstock, New York three times. First we spent a lovely babymoon in a charming house with an enormous bathtub. (Yes, that’s the primary thing I remember. I was eight months pregnant, and it was February. I spent the long weekend in front of the fireplace and in the tub.) Last fall we enjoyed a delightful week at a house up on a hill, and it was on that trip that we discovered Sunfrost Farms, a local, independent market with excellent produce, a juice bar, a quirky selection of groceries, every spice you could require on a weeklong vacation, and most importantly, a little house-made treat called “Organic Chocolate and Raw Fruit Paradise.” A package contains about 16 one-inch squares of chocolatey, nutty goodness, and I can’t get enough of them.

Wait. Stop. Now I have to go eat one. Look at this picture while I go to the kitchen.

When we returned from our trip, I scoured the web trying to find a recipe that approximates this deliciousness, but I came up empty-handed.

Last week we had the good fortune to visit with friends in upstate New York. We followed a roundabout and exploratory route back to the city, both for pure exploration and in an attempt to keep Apparently Jr asleep in the back seat for as long as possible. I drove, and Mr Apparently navigated. He may have had a plan, and I suspect it had to do with coffee and baked goods rather than vegan date bars. But when I realized we were driving down Tinker Street in Bearsville, I couldn’t contain my excitement:

We have to stop at Sunfrost and buy the chocolate sunflower bars!

I sent Mr Apparently inside without clear directions, because although I secretly wanted him to purchase every package of organic fruit and nut paradise in the store, I didn’t want to be responsible for the actual eating of that much chocolate. I mean, of course I did, but…you know exactly what I mean. So he returned to the car with two packages (one marked carob, if I recall correctly – that one is gone) and a week later, after much self-control on all of our parts, we are down to the last two squares.

I need to find a recipe.

These may be close:

1. Raw Vegan Mango, Date, and Sunflower Tropical Energy Balls

No chocolate, but the base of fruits sounds right

2. Chocolate Date Balls (no cook!)

Closer, closer…

3. Sunflower Coconut Balls

Perhaps if I swapped out chocolate for the peanut butter? But the peanut binder may be the binder in this recipe.

Is this ringing any sort of bell? I am so serious when I say that if you send me a recipe that makes these little bites of yumminess, I will send you the nicest thank-you present. Perhaps even a batch of your very own.

Mr. Apparently has taken on quite a bit of responsibility at his office lately, and because of deadlines and whatnot it was starting to look like the Apparently family might not take a vacation this year. But a day’s worth of correspondence on the excellent site VRBO.com landed us a charming little vacation house just outside of Woodstock, NY for six days of rest and recuperation.

Outside of cruising down the Canal du Midi on an 8-passenger Dutch barge, this may be the most delightful vacation I’ve ever had.

The house we’ve rented sits in a clearing with plenty of land for nature walks and hide-and-seek. The yard features a swingset and slide for the little one, and out back there’s a wood-fired sauna (where I thought I’d be spending copious amounts of time, but it turns out that I’m impatient and would rather sit by the indoor woodstove with my family than alone in the sauna waiting for it to heat). In the yard we’ve seen chipmunks, mule deer and bats. The sky at night is deep with stars. There’s a washing machine and dryer. City people are easy to please in the country.

The little town of Woodstock, famous for not being the site of any number of concerts, is about two miles away. We haven’t spent much time there, just a couple of brief trips for provisions. I expected to drive into town for a haircut or a massage, or to browse the shops, or just to have some time to myself. Once here, none of that felt necessary.

The toy shop sells all sorts of diversions, including such old-fashioned toys as balsa wood gliders and whirligigs. After hours in the yard perfecting our flying skills, it was necessary to bake brownies. We’ve made sunprints and glued leaves to construction paper. In the cupboards of the house we’ve discovered a pasta roller and a popcorn popper. The nearest farm stand sells organic popcorn, and so we spent an afternoon consuming an enormous bowl while teaching the kid to play Go Fish. A huge drawer of VHS tapes meant that he’s learned about (more) deep sea turtles and discovered Fantasia (2000).

Lest you think we’ve become the Little House on the mountain, after our son is asleep we turn on HGTV and watch our guilty pleasure: home-buying shows. We don’t have a tv at home, and lately access to one means hours glued to the screen while couples in L.A. and Ontario decide which to purchase among three homes. I wish they’d shoot one of these shows in New York. Perhaps we just haven’t seen enough episodes.

Our house also offers stacks of literature about sites in the area. You’d think we’d have visited the world’s largest kaleidoscope, the old-fashioned train, the game farm, the farmer’s market, the largest artisan craft shop in the Catskills, FDR’s estate, or the Culinary Institute of America. Not this time. This trip was about roasting marshmallows over the fire pit and tasting local cheeses while lounging barefoot in front of the woodstove.

FDR’s house isn’t going anywhere.

Stone and Thistle Farm, a family farm “located in a lush, quiet valley in the foothills of the Catskill Mountains in central New York state,” is a charming place to spend a Sunday morning. Their lovely farm tour is followed by a delicious brunch at the communal table of their stunningly attractive yet simply built farm-to-table restaurant, Fable.

I planned to expound thoroughly upon the farm’s virtues in this post, but then I discovered this recent article from Chronogram Magazine that lays it all out in more detail than I previously knew. So read the article and then come back here.

Okay, did you read it? (No? Seriously. It’ll take four minutes. Go read it.) Here’s what I can add:

1. The farm tour was led by Denise Warren, who is charming and blunt as only a farmer can be.

2. We came face to face with dogs, hens, goats, sheep and bunnies. The bunnies are adorable but their red eyes are a little bit creepy.

3. Their brown Berkshire pigs are the most attractive pigs I have ever seen. And it was completely refreshing when Denise said she doesn’t really understand why people like Berkshire pork better than any other pork, but it’s what chefs want, so they raise it.

4. I understand that border collies are supposedly the smartest dogs, but even after a demonstration of sheepdog prowess, I still don’t quite get it. They had to be instructed a dozen times. Isn’t it just easier to herd the sheep yourself? I know, this kind of thinking is surely why I am not a farmer.

5. Stone and Thistle has one guestroom available. I was talked out of ever staying in it by Denise’s description of the sheepdogs working – that is, barking – all night.

6. Brunch was one of the best meals I have ever eaten. It was entirely simple, straightforward food: scrambled eggs, muffins, granola, ham, bread pudding. But the eggs tasted eggier, the mushrooms (local) tasted mushroomier, the ham tasted hammier. You get the idea. All the ingredients are from the farm or within twenty miles, except for the butter. (But you knew that because you read the article, right?)

7. And the granola was the best granola I have ever tasted. I expressed my enthusiasm to Denise on my way to the farm store to purchase some, and she told me, “It must be because it’s made with love.” She paused. She laughed. “And a lot of maple syrup. Probably more maple syrup than I should use, but it’s so good.”

Denise blogs here, in the rare moment that she’s not tending to animals, visitors, guests, batches of granola and the business of running a farm. And I am not telling you where the bag of granola is hidden.

Mr. Apparently and I went on a lovely trip to Vermont, where we stayed at the incomparable Windham Hill Inn and drove all over the southern part of the state in search of the unique, the antique and oh yes, fabric and yarn. Armed with his trusty iPad, we were able to search out local yarn stores on the fly (or rather, in the rental car) and even found two incredible houses-converted-to-stores filled to their attics with fabric.

Not until this trip have I observed firsthand the great divide between quilters and modern sewists. Each of these shops was stocked with hundreds, if not thousands of cotton fabrics, on bolts and in neatly tied bundles of half-yards, fat quarters, charm packs and jelly rolls. (If these terms mean nothing to you, scroll down for a glossary.) Yet almost nowhere in these shops were the modern cotton fabrics I have come to know and love. Let’s not even get into designers (often the dividing line between modern and traditional); the patterns and colors alone displayed a serious commitment to traditional American quilting. I am coming to terms with the sad truth that unless one lives in a teeming metropolis or is a dedicated internet shopper, it’s not easy to find fabrics that appeal to a modern sensibility. Thank [your chosen deity] for the internet. And that I live in NYC with a high-speed web connection.

Don’t worry. I managed to support the local economy nonetheless. In the charming village of Wilmington, I spied a bolt of Valorie Well’s Sole in the attic of Norton House, and along with some argyle, various dots and a few lovely reproductions based on fabrics discovered at Old Sturbridge Village (the school field trip destination of my youth), easily passed some sort of secret “free piece of fudge with purchase” threshold.

At Country Treasures in Chester, I overheard two women telling a third that they had driven two and a half hours to reach the store and planned to stay all day.  This shop was even larger than Norton House, and yet I had a much more difficult time trying to make a purchase. I was stunned and impressed with the sheer quantity of fabrics, not to mention the enormous quilting machine in the attic, but the colors were just not my palette. It was obvious that the fabrics in the shop had been chosen by the same person; room after room and bundle after bundle presented a unified aesthetic that was just not the same as mine. Mr. Apparently left me to wander, and did I catch him making a purchase? Yes, I did. (Isn’t that sweet?) And did he choose a bundle of Sandy Gervais prints that I had already earmarked as a possibility? Of course he did.

I have a feeling that in the bedrooms and attics of Vermont, thousands of quilts are keeping people warm…or waiting to be found by the next generation.

(The careful observer might spy a little piece of “Cars” fabric in my stack of purchases. I couldn’t resist a little something that would make my son happy. One lovely fabric isn’t pictured, as I’m making a surprise for someone who may read this…could it be you?)

Glossary of Quilting Terms, for the Uninitiated:

A half-yard, is eactly that: a piece of fabric that is 18″ high and the entire width of the bolt.

A fat quarter is made by cutting a half yard in half again vertically to produce a rectangular piece that measures 18″ x 22″. (Many people prefer this to a piece that is 9″ high.)

Charm packs are stacks of fabric that have been laser-cut into 5″ squares. Layer cakes are stacks of 10″ squares.

And jelly rolls are bundles of 2.5″ x 44″ strips that are rolled up to look like their namesake.

One can also find honey buns, dessert rolls and turnovers. Isn’t this making you hungry? I’m going to have to find some cake.

This post comes to you via some flaky wireless service at the lovely
Quality Inn in Tiffin, Ohio. It may be expounded upon at some later
date when I can type with more than just thumbs. But let me state for
posterity that not only have I just attended a beautiful wedding and
enjoyed the excellent company of my friends and neighbors far from our
usual locale, but also I have witnessed the unprecedented sight of my
husband dancing to pop music with our son. Which alone may have been
worth any stress accumulated over the past 48 hours. Because that was
AWESOME.

Gas is $4.59/gallon. The temperature is below 70. What kind of trip to
Florida is this?