…I went to Cape Cod and the weather was nearly perfect; I spent days and nights with my three favorite men; took early morning walks on the beach nearly every day, played miniature golf on a course with a ten-foot tall plaster bunny, and ate wonderful food more often than a person ought to. This, I believe, is the very definition of ‘vacation’.
We ate with friends and relatives who are friends; we ate at homes and restaurants and road side stands, and we cooked. All food tastes better after a day at the beach and when accompanied by laughter, but we sternly donned our compartmentalizing caps and focused for nearly an entire minute at every meal just to be sure the food was all as good as it seemed.
You can not replicate any of our wonderful meals. For one thing, you won’t be with my Dad, husband and son– or our friends. You can’t enjoy wine and boiled shrimp on Wendy and Bill’s deck, because they are not your cousins.
If you are very, very clever, you might manage to befriend Tamar and Kevin, but it could take several years before they pull out all the stops and feed you plump, briny oysters they’ve just pulled up that morning and a never-ending rotation of pizzas, each tastier than the last. We (really: I) gorged on dozens upon dozens of those oysters while sitting at a table under the trees and stars, just a stone’s throw from the water; at a table laden with wine bottles and pizzas and surrounded by happy hens. Here’s some small comfort: you can get Tamar and Kevin’s oysters at some of New York City’s finest restaurants: look for Barnstable Oysters on the menu.
Here is one such oyster in Tamar’s nimble hands. She exercised patience watching my unpracticed and clumsy shucking; after very few minutes I recognized the wisdom of slurping over shucking and handed over the knife.
Kevin built this outdoor oven, which holds at over 800 degrees. It is a work of a certain kind of art; an art that makes my husband’s eyes go all soft as he dreams of building an oven of his very own.
Kevin made many wonderful pizzas in his oven, including my Dad’s favorite Margherita pizza:
This one was made with sausage from pigs Kevin and Tamar raised:
There were many others, including a stellar clam pizza (look out, Pepe’s!) , but I was too busy eating to get photos. Just before dessert, I did stop scarfing down food long enough to take this photo of Kevin roasting peaches for our….wait for it… dessert pizza:
After dinner, we lit Chinese lanterns and sent them flying up to the heavens, so that we might share a tiny part of our magical evening with the creatures that dwell above the land and sea.
To read more about Kevin and Tamar, visit Tamar’s smart and fascinating writing at Starving Off the Land , The Washington Post, Huffington Post and a slew of magazines. And I’m not just saying that so she’ll have us over again– her writing really is that good. Plus, Kevin makes a mean pizza.