Girls’ Lost Weekend

I am part of the world’s best book club. This is, of course, my humble opinion. It’s small, just 6 of us currently, and we’re pretty loosey-goosey about actually reading the books. Actually most of us do, and occasionally someone won’t for varying reasons, and usually I can tell by the book if certain members will even make an attempt. But we eat really well. This isn’t your wine and cheese book club; this is dinner. Five courses, even. Whoever’s house it’s at makes the main course and the rest bring appetizers, beverages, salad, bread and dessert.

…we eat well. Sometimes we even talk about the book.

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We’ve done theme dinners based on books we’ve read; Southern Fried Divorce prompted some tasty southern fried chicken, The Hunger Games a yummy lamb stew. Giada De Laurentis eat your heart out.

Our beverages have run the gamut from Cosmopolitans to White Apple Sangria to Dark and Stormies to Sunshower, one of the many selections from Trillium Brewing in Boston, which was started and is owned by (one of our members) Denise’s son J.C. And there is always wine. I told you we eat well. Sometimes we even talk about the book.

Once each member of the group has hosted we usually go out to dinner, better still if we can catch a movie made from one of the books we’ve read. And for the second time we’ve made what I’m hoping will be an annual summer weekend trip to the club’s founder, Claudia’s summer cottage on Lake Mascoma in Enfield NH. Someone’s husband deemed it The Girls Lost Weekend. It starts with a stop at the rest area on Rt. 24 north which houses a Dunkin’ Donuts and a Burger King. Dunkin’ for coffee and breakfast, Burger King so we can pilfer the appropriate number of gold cardboard crowns to wear at night by the fire.

Did I mention we are a crazy bunch? Last year Anita and I, the oldest members present had our butts towed around on a large float by a swimming Claudia, the youngest member (and Anita’s niece). We deemed our inflatable ship The Seniority.  All the while we toted a large jug of premixed rum punches and plastic cups, which we doled out to those in kayaks or on floats nearby. Enough rum punches slurred their new name to rum pums, and they’ve been rum pums ever since.

This year we were off to a good start with beers on arrival and my re-creation of a sandwich I’d had earlier in the week: turkey, swiss, lettuce, tomato and cranberry mayonnaise on grilled multigrain bread.

The weather was not cooperative, it was cool and overcast, so we went in search of entertainment and eventually dinner. We found a great farmer’s market in Newport NH where an all-natural, humane meat provider had a sign that read “Happy Animals Taste Better”. I wondered if he had data to support. We shopped at the marina at Lake Sunapee, stopped at a beautiful covered bridge and did a brief driving tour of the area before deciding it was time for more adult beverages. Claudia had been told of a tiny Mexican restaurant at the Newport NH airfield called the Lil’ Red Baron, so we swung in. At 5PM on the Friday evening the place was packed and they had a list of reservations. They squeezed us in and we ordered up a pitcher of house margaritas.

This place has an outdoor fire pit where patrons can wait with a drink for their table, a tent with tables and heaters, and a small indoor dining room and bar. And a food truck for catering gigs. Makes you want to have a party. People came prepared with sweaters, jackets and even blankets for outdoor seating. We commented at how many crazy, colorful tchotchkes you could plaster a Mexican Restaurant with and have it still look charming. Tiles, pictures, ceramics, cactus, and tinwork, all brightly colored and somewhat garish, but somehow wonderfully appropriate for the surroundings.

The food was great. I had a pork carnitas with rice and black beans, others had mahi fish tacos and combo plates of their choosing. It was plentiful and tasty. And cheap. Two pitchers and dinner for 5 came to $125 including tip.

Back at the cottage we sat by the makeshift fire pit with our sweatshirts, blankets, and crowns, and listened to the loons. Their calls were eerie but beautiful over the dark expanse of lake. Claudia sacrificed her crown to the fire in hopes of a sunny day tomorrow.

The weather the previous year was sunny and hot, which made for a fog covered lake when we arose in the morning. This year the cool, cloudy weather gave us perfect visibility but I missed the slow and quiet awakening of our view as the fog lifted. Still, it was lovely to sit with hot tea and watch the stillness of the water.

Once we got moving we were off again for a hike and to grab some ice for the rum pums. Our drive to the hiking trail led us by the What Will She Bring Home Next farm, and a house whose tall arborvitaes had been consistently nibbled on by deer to the point that they looked like stalks of asparagus. Our hike led us down a path to Crystal Lake, where we spooked a couple of deer in the water. Their escape gave us a beautiful view of mother and baby as they bound across our path.

I guess the pace was too fast for Denise, who stopped me from taking the lead.

“Not you, Tonto, not with those long legs.” I was relegated to the rear.

She also calls me MacGyver in the kitchen, able to whip up something from nothing. In my case death defying escapes from bad guys are not part of the deal. But really good burgers for lunch were. I mixed up a batch of ground chuck with smoked paprika, chopped garlic and onion, salt and pepper, and we grilled ‘em up with a cheddar cheese topping. Mayo, lettuce, tomato and red onion slices rounded out the heaven on a bun. And rum pums. We start early. But my real MavGyver talents kicked in later.

First we needed some time on the water. Luckily it was warmer than the air. After the initial OMG! those of us that swam or floated were quite comfortable. But sun would have been nice. Melissa towed us around in a kayak, especially to get back to the dock for a fresh rum pum. Eventually we went in, dried off and went on a blackberry hunt.

The woods around the cottage have a dense, low brush beneath the trees, and if you look hard enough – blackberries! We filled up a small bowl while the stickseed (not sure the real name – maybe Hackelia) anchored itself to my socks and yoga pants. Then I got to MacGyver it up with whatever was in Claudia’s kitchen. An expired box of Bisquick (sans weevils, I checked), milk, sugar and spices – voila! Blackberry cobbler.

Anita and I kayaked across the lake and back while dinner was in the oven. A couple of loons (not us, the real kind) were on the water as well, and let us get close enough to see their beautiful black and white feathers and inky black heads. One looked like he was watching a tennis match as he looked back and forth between Anita and me, making sure we didn’t try to pull anything.

Anita and Claudia had a bit of an acorn war going. Sneak attacks, subterfuge, and a rendition of Acorns Roasting on an Open Fire. Instead of short sheets Anita found her bed filled with acorns. Spy vs. Spy from Mad Magazine stuff, but without the gunpowder.

We had a great dinner of eggplant rollatini, salad and the cobbler. And the award for the most interesting use of Klondike Bars goes to us for cutting them up and using them as topping on the cobbler. We spent our last night by the fire, which Claudia rekindled with a simple blow of her breath, no doubt helped by its alcohol content.

“HEY!” was heard when Anita found the acorns in her sheets. I wonder if Claudia found the ones Anita put in her cooler once she got home…