A few days ago we, a group of us that have been friends for over thirty years, got back from a seven night stay at a lake-side house in Traverse City, Michigan. We found the place in the usual way. Our friend and sister-law Shirley, did the leg work by scouring hundreds of web sites advertising rental properties and made sure she narrowed the field by eliminating the thousands of listings that did not meet our criteria. All those that did not have at least 4 bedrooms, three bathrooms, were not situated close to a body of water, did not have a kitchen big enough for several budding chefs, a table big enough to seat us all at the same time, did not have free wifi, and a games room with plenty of space for games of all kinds, were simply eliminated. That left us with several options which we all had the opportunity to inspect and voice our opinions about. After eight unequivocal "we're good with what everyone else is good with," she chose the one that spoke to her the loudest and clearest and sent in the deposit.
We all arrived in the usual way. Several cars arriving within hours of one another full of necessary supplies that one couldn't be without when on such a promising and highly anticipated trip; bags full of board games, water shoes, boccie balls and towels quickly spilled out of the cars and were hastily enshrined in their respective living quarters until the time of their intended use. Beer can tabs popped and bottles of coolers were raised high in welcome to more memories in the making.
We've been to many places over the years. We have cruised the Mediterranean, checked out Chicago on more than one occasion, walked the hallowed halls of Las Vegas, and lately have decided to stick closer to home by taking in the Great Lakes region and inspecting it by foot and water craft.
Whether by coincidence or unbeknown to us, by Shirley's careful planning, our trip to Traverse City also happened to coincide with the 85th annual Traverse City Cherry Festival. The event is an entire week's worth of concerts, craft vendors, air shows and of course a myriad of offerings of everything cherry. After inspecting countless booths full of cherry jam, butter, salsa, juice, sauce and pies, we came upon one filled with jars of natural nut butters of every variety. Not only were they made of nuts raging from peanut to cashew, macadamia and almond but they were also tweaked to tantalize the taste buds in very enticing ways. If you loved coffee there was Mocha Peanut Butter or Cashew Butter, if your passion lay more on the sweet side, you were able to indulge it with Natural Almond Butter swirled with Clover Honey and of course if the reason you were at the Cherry Festival was for the love of the round, red, pitted fruit itself, you were able to spoil yourself with a jar or two of Cinnamon Cherry natural Peanut, Cashew or Almond Butter. Now the funny thing is that I'm not particularly a big fan of cherries. I could take them or leave them and would much rather sink my teeth into a fresh ripe strawberry, peach or apple. But somehow the combination of all those ingredients rolled into one and available on such a sunny day, five hours away from home, on the shores of the crystal clear waters of lake Michigan surrounded by life long friends whom I love, proved to be irresistible. A large jar of Mocha Peanut Butter and another of Cinnamon Cherry Peanut Butter found their way into my purse before the day was over.
We did it all during that first week of July, we cruised the waters of Long Lake, we walked the shallow sand bar waters of Torch Lake, we shopped the quaint shops of Alden, ate thin crust spinach pizza and creme brule at a side walk cafe, tubed down the Platte River, and of course played countless hands of cards and games of Apples to Apples and Taboo.
On our way home, several hours closer to home, at one of our many stops along the way, I noticed the same jars of exotic nut butters sitting as an afterthought on a store shelf. They no longer had the glamorous appeal of the ones we clamored over in Traverse City. The tops of the jars looked dusty and the small selection seemed lost next to the large display of Kraft and Jiff. I might have even been able to find them at home, I thought. But on second thought, as I think of the time we spent together, laughing and eating all the wrong things, drinking more than we should have, staying up later than we have in months just to get up and do it all over gain the following day, I would not have done it any other way.
Why did you go to Traverse City, someone asked me the other day. They have the best Peanut Butter there, I replied. And I meant every word.
