A Guest Room Under the Porch

Summer at our cabin in the Colorado Rocky Mountains began in June this year. 

A guest I wasn’t expecting had already arrived. Stepping onto the covered front porch, a young deer with budding antlers leapt out from underneath my feet. He had moved in below the decking, among rocks laid down years ago.

The buck didn’t venture far, sticking close to nearby pine trees, pretending to graze and glance silently at me. Over the course of days, I became familiar with his routine and he with mine.

Buddy as a youngster

I began calling softly, “Hey Buddy, it’s just me”, when he startled awake with my footsteps above him. If it was late afternoon, nocturnal foraging began and he wandered away.

My husband arrived one week later. We have our morning coffee here, on the porch that faces north, with a view of craggy rock knobs and towering Ponderosas. Rays of rising sunlight are welcome when the air is cool.

We began to see Buddy meandering “home”, well after sunrise, having pulled the typical all-nighter for a mule deer. Sometimes there were two younger bucks with him. When he angled down the hill toward his sleeping space the others strolled on down the road.

Because we were often sitting on top of his semi-concealed den, he began lying down in the grassy weeds off the porch, awake and relaxed. He saw us. We saw him. He heard our voices as we talked. An unusual compatibility formed. When we left our chairs he would ease back into his rocky enclosure and bed down. One day led to the next…

Mule deer are indigenous to Colorado and Rocky Mountain National Park. They differ from their whitetail cousins with a larger body build, oversized ears, a black tipped white tail, and white patch on the rump. Males prefer sleeping among rocky ridges while females like bedding down in meadows protected by trees and shrubbery. Life span can approach ten years, but only if they avoid mountain lions, bobcats, and packs of coyotes.

the corner room with hard pillows

Antlers are shed and re-grown every year. In the beginning, they are covered in hairy skin called velvet. Velvet supplies blood to protect and nourish them while they are still soft and fragile. As they grow, [as much as half an inch a day] a deer’s antlers branch forward and “fork”, then fork again. When full size is reached, the velvet dies off and bucks remove it by rubbing on trees and bushes. This also strengthens their neck for sparring with other males in the fall rut.

Days turned into weeks as we watched Buddy’s frame fill out. His antlers seemed to grow visibly overnight, forking once, then twice into an impressive display. He was going to be a player in this season’s rut.

antler growth one half inch per day

In late July, we left Estes Park heading northwest on a road trip to visit friends. In contrast to dry, grassy, wildflower meadows and granite-rock mountains, our friends summer near water–a large lake in the Idaho panhandle, and the Methow River valley in northern Washington State.

leaving buddy home alone

Sometimes we wondered about our under-the-porch guest back in Colorado. Husband surreptitiously placed a web cam to observe activity while we were away. Feedback went to his phone, but only for a short time. Within days, Buddy stuck his face into the camera lens and apparently kicked the whole thing over. We could only guess whether he abandoned the den…or simply triumphed over unwanted technology.

dozing
resting
and spying the web cam

Spending time with friendships that began in Taiwan in the 1990s was the highlight of our days on the road. In northern Idaho, on our friends’ boat, we enjoyed a scenic tour of Lake Pend Oreille followed by a sunset dinner al fresco. The next day, in a two-car caravan, we drove to Mazama, Washington where the Methow River runs through the property of our friends.

Lake Pend Oreille, Idaho
Methow River valley, Mazama, Washington

Important activities take place along this strip of rocky, sandy riverbed as the Methow flows by. Cooking over fire in a circular rock surround, lumberjacking dead trees for winter firewood, sleeping in teepee or tent, sharing meals, talking and story telling, watching clouds, the sunrise or the sunset, reading with the soothing background noise of water sounds. Rhythms of a summer lived outside play daily here. It is the spiritual landscape of our friends. While sharing their space we moved within its’ cadence and felt it, too.

to teepee island with the Methow running through on the other side
symbolic exchange of antique tins when we make home visits

A circuitous route took us back to Colorado after saying good-bye in Mazama. When we pulled off the dirt road onto the cabin driveway, it was still light enough to note the sleeping den was empty. The web cam was upside down near rocks about fifteen feet from the porch steps. Buddy returned the next morning, noting our presence by plopping down and waiting for us to finish breakfast and move off the porch.

Our cabin was built to house a crowd. Family and friends pile upstairs and bunk in rooms with multiple beds. Less than a week after we returned home there were rounds of guests–more footsteps, new smells, even a baby’s babbling voice. Buddy moved out.

It’s been several weeks now since he left. A woman mentioned that her husband saw a deer sleeping in an unused barn on the property they are renting. It is just below us. Visiting sister-in-law saw a buck with good-sized antlers walking with a doe early one morning. We ran into Buddy, grazing one evening, as we walked home from a neighbor’s cabin. He started to walk toward us, then turned and kept his distance. There is a return to natural order on the hillside.

These days the morning air smells of approaching autumn. The temperature at sunrise can be nippy in that put-on-your-sweatshirt-to-sit-outside kind of way. Sunlight has shifted its’ arc. The bugling chorus of bull elk, signaling the start of the rut, is only days away. Change of season in the mountains propels the notion of moving on.

Yet, for a short while this summer we shared an uncommon acquaintance with a young deer as he grew into strength and maturity. We liked his quiet presence. He tolerated ours. We didn’t invite him, so I guess he chose us…because he found a guest room that suited him under the porch.

CLICK HERE to view a short video of Buddy coming home

Long’s Peak sunrise
and sunset
lounging by the fire ring

[Our own spiritual geography described here: Bugling Elk and Sacred Spaces

Bugling Elk and Sacred Spaces

Every part of the Earth is sacred to my people. 

Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every humming insect is holy in the memory and experience of my people. The perfumed flowers are our sisters; the deer, the horse, and the great eagle; these are our brothers.

We are part of the Earth and it is part of us.

–Chief Seattle, native American

 

It’s autumn now in northern Europe where I returned a week ago. The courtyard Virginia creeper vine is reddening more each day. Heavier bed linens are in place so the window can remain open for good sleeping. Scarves donned for outdoor wear. And rain.

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dining room window courtyard view, paris, france

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kitchen courtyard view, paris

Still, for the moment, I’m reminiscing about a longer than normal summer season in Colorado. Three months at “Camp Estes”–our hillside home with Front Range views and walk-in access to Rocky Mountain National Park.

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looking south, camp estes, long’s peak in background

What made it particularly special were the visitors, different from other summers. A toddler grand-daughter’s first time to roam rocky, hilly landscapes, a reunion of women from my high school graduating class, visual apparitions of campfire spirits after two years of “no-burn” ban, s’mores with dark European chocolate, and a herd of rutting elk who wandered in–and stayed.

These events fused with other things I love; wildflowers in profusion, mountain sunrise and sunsets, thunderstorms and rainbows, low hanging clouds clearing to snow on the high peaks, elk bugling in the change of season.

Returning to the mountains is particularly significant to me because of our overseas lifestyle. For twelve summers, during the years we lived in Taipei, Taiwan, I needed to come home and recalibrate. Living and breathing for a few months at a higher altitude with clear blue skies was so different from an Asian city constructed of concrete and the equivalent of subway tiles. The mountains gave us our “spiritual geography”, a term coined by Kathleen Norris in Dakota. It is the place we inhabit to find our best selves.

Joseph Campbell was of similar mindset when he talked of finding “sacred space”.

“A sacred space is any space that is set apart from the usual context of life. It has no function in the way of earning a living or a reputation…In your sacred space, things are working in terms of your dynamic–and not somebody else’s…You don’t really have a sacred space until you find somewhere to be…where joy comes from inside, not something external that puts joy into you, a place that lets you experience your own will and your own intention and your own wish…”

Your sacred space is where you find yourself again and again.

–J. Campbell

 

My sacred spaces begin in physical forms–a cabin in the Colorado mountains, a campfire ring, and a hidden destination called “Rock on the River” where I hike to heal or think.

There is a chameleon-like aspect to living the overseas lifestyle, between home in the U.S. and home overseas. In the Colorado mountains it’s possible to live every day in jeans and soft shirts, moccasins or cowgirl boots. I sip coffee on the front porch in sunshine or on a deck overlooking Long’s Peak and Rocky Mountain National Park. I go to bed after a campfire and awaken to the smell of smoke on my pillow.

Returning home to Paris, there is a seamless slide into the city version of myself. I sit in cafés watching people instead of coyotes, hawks, deer and elk. I happily adapt to the rhythms around me.

Mountains are the constant that makes this work. Feeling small and insignificant amid the backdrop of a huge landscape clears my mind. I love the smell of rapidly changing weather, seeing wild animals roam without fences, poking campfires with a stick–sparking thoughts and creativity. I think of years of good fortune that lie ahead–sharing all of this with a generation of grandchildren.

Another way to tell the story is with pictures. Here is “Camp Estes”–summer 2017.

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“mexican hat” flowers are not native to our hillside. these germinated from seeds sowed over many years without luck. then, in 2005, a new cabin was built and out they popped from the regraded soil

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leila, at 15 months. free to discover and get dirty, to stumble and wobble on uneven terrain

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jet lag means early sunrises over long’s peak with coffee on the deck

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august sunset with first quarter moon rising

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avocado margaritas at ed’s cantina. for a full description to “get in here” as their motto invites, follow this link: Sipping Avocado Margs in Summer

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leila’s face after tasting sour. she actually loves sucking on fresh lime, stopping only when it gets to be too much.

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horse rides with “deedee” at the shaka shaka [baby Russian for playground]

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chalk art in perfect squat formation.

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early morning laughs with auntie “yaya”

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afternoon thunderstorm in sunshine

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produces perfect rainbows

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I bought a vintage necklace at an estate sale. three waterford crystal glasses were thrown in as freebies. must have overpaid for the necklace, but the result was ambient champagne sipping.

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fireside supper and girl chat with leila, deedee and yaya

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iowa high school girlfriends reunited this year in estes park, photo courtesy of betty cleffman hager

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girlfriend hike in rocky mountain national park, courtesy of betty cleffman hager

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on mountain trails with big views, photo courtesy of debbie windus

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marking time with an “old time” photo shoot

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capturing beauty in rocky mountain national park, photo by debbie windus

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september light, rocky mountain national park, photo by debbie windus

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closeup of chief seattle’s “shining pine needles”, photo by mary beckey kelly

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mountain lavender at camp estes, photo by debbie windus

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girlfriend entertaining–snacks followed by dinner, photo by debbie windus

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preparing coals for making s’mores. fire ring built in 1991 has mostly remained in the same configuration. I might have re-arranged it a “few times”, but no one can tell except me. one day a landscaper called it a “spiritual circle” and I quit messing with it.

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lineup of s’more ingredients: grahams, marsh mellows, European chocolate–choice of plain, with sea salt or caramel and sea salt, whisky and wine optional.

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Recipe: toast marsh mellows over red hot campfire coals. [or char them black in the flames if you like.] place on chocolate lined graham crackers.

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smush together. enjoy the sticky sweetness with adult beverage of choice. [red wine or single malt whisky in this scenario.]

Campfire at Wendy's with Joyce and Dave

hair and clothes must smell like smoke before leaving fire, from barb barton minquet

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summer becomes fall with elk rut. 6:30 AM reveilles outside bedroom window the last week of vacation.

CLICK HERE for 30 second video taken from our front porch of big bull daddy re-claiming the harem after three younger males tried to take over. A thin adolescent response from the young bull who ran away.

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herding on south side of camp estes

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the long view

 

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baby elk cuteness

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and baby leila cuteness

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nature’s symmetry

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outside looking in

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low hanging clouds and yellowing aspens

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next day skies with high country snow

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spirit of the flame

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incarnates into spirit of the double horse head

It seems appropriate to end with fire. It’s my symbolic totem, along with the wolf, but that’s another story, another time.

For those who dropped in this summer and those who stayed awhile, for those who loved being there and those who will return to the mountains; share the memories.

And finally, to Leila: I hope the wide and wild natural world will always be part of your adventure, that you will be nurtured by its’ rhythms and beauty, and know that nature exists to support all of her creatures. You are now part of the earth and it is part of you.

 

Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The wind will blow freshness into you, and cares will drop away like leaves of Autumn.

–John Muir

 

 

Rocky’s Meadow Mountain Cafe

A year ago I wrote a story about my favourite Colorado hometown cafe. It was called “A Mountain Gem for 70 Years”.  A Mountain Gem for 70 Years  The owner, Rocky St. John, passed away right before Christmas. In tribute to her, I have revised my words with a few new photos. Over breakfast this morning, I spoke with her sons, Ben and Joe, who, along with their father, are keeping the cafe open in her memory. She trained them well.

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Allenspark, Colorado lies in a curvy bend off Highway 7, between Estes Park and the valley below. As you drive past the majestic scenery of Wild Basin and the backside of Long’s Peak, it’s easy to simply bypass this tiny town. But if you turn right onto the business spur, it’s probably because you know about Rocky’s Meadow Mountain Cafe.

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On a hillside halfway through town is a small green building with purple trim. Colorful buttons are mixed into the cement between the slate stone steps climbing to the front porch. The main room has knotty pine walls and an antique potbelly stove, radiating warmth. Shelves are lined with an eccentric collection of salt-and-pepper shakers. Local artwork is for sale on the wall. Behind this quaint façade is a long history of food, friendly service, and loyal customer relationships.

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It began in 1946 with a local character named Lil Lavicka. Known as the “Pie Lady”, Lil was famous for her homemade baked goods. As part of a divorce settlement, her husband hastily built a two-room cafe across from her tiny home. Lil’s Pie House flourished for twenty summer seasons.

Then, after several changes of ownership, Meadow Mountain Cafe was born. Breakfast and lunch became the daily fare. Food was fresh and home-cooked to order. Coffee was hot–with a touch of cinnamon. Consistently good food, friendly service, and reasonable pricing enhanced its’ reputation beyond the boundaries of the small community. Locals and tourists lined up for a table inside or on the covered porch, complete with hummingbirds, flowers and an overhanging pine tree. Lil Lavicka’s seasonal pie house evolved into a legendary year-round cafe with returning customers, who became friends.

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Roxanne [Rocky] St. John began waiting tables at Meadow Mountain more than 30 years ago. It wasn’t long before her cooking finesse and creativity nudged her into the kitchen full time. Rocky worked the grill for several female owners until finally, in 2007, she took over solo ownership. Already an established part of the ongoing success of Meadow Mountain, it was time to put her personal stamp on the place.

Rocky introduced two new house specialties–the veggie burger and the green chili sauce for huevos rancheros. Cinnamon spiked coffee is still standard, of course. She chose the outside paint colors and easy-on-the-eye peach walls for the kitchen. The button-inlaid steps were designed and built for safer access in all weather conditions. An herb garden was planted out in back. Inside, the eclectic collection of coffee mugs and salt-and-pepper shakers [always part of her style] continued to grow. Her kitchen blasting music-of-choice ran along the lines of Bob Dylan and Johnny Cash.

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We have been driving from our cabin in Estes Park to Meadow Mountain Cafe for more than 15 years. It never disappoints. It’s not meant to be fast food. You wait patiently and sip good coffee, talk leisurely. Perhaps you warm your back near the antique stove, muse over the salt-and-pepper collection, read a book or eavesdrop quietly on another conversation. You watch regulars walk into the kitchen to say hello. At a corner table, friends sit and play cards after their meal. A man at the counter leans his chin into one hand and dozes, holding a coffee cup with the other.

Orders parade out of the kitchen. Coffee mugs are refilled. Homemade brown bread, thickly sliced for toast or sandwiches, is baked twice daily in summer to keep up with demand. The scene is homey and multi-dimensional–from the diversity of customers stepping through the door to the din of country or rock-n-roll music pouring out of the kitchen. Conversation and laughter is spiced with the clatter of plates and silverware as tables empty and fill.

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beaded tapestry made by a friend of Rocky’s

What sustains this kind of success in a town of just over 500 people? Rocky, along with the women before her, crafted a timeless formula. It begins with an old-fashioned hard work ethic. It’s maintained by keeping quality high, service friendly, and community relationships strong. Rocky was passionate about what she did and consistently did it very well. And then, just maybe, that hint of cinnamon in the coffee didn’t hurt either.

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Rocky St. John, 1960-2015

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new step up to the cafe

A Mountain Gem for 70 Years

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Allenspark, Colorado lies in a curvy bend off Highway 7, between Estes Park and the valley below. It is situated within the Roosevelt National Forest and surrounded by mountains of the Front Range Colorado Rockies. As you drive past the majestic scenery of Wild Basin and the backside of Long’s Peak, it would be easy to bypass the business spur and keep descending the mountain.

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looking back on Long’s Peak from Hwy 7

But if you do make the right hand turn into Allenspark, it’s probably because you know about an historic hillside landmark halfway through town–Meadow Mountain Café.

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On the outside, it is painted green with purple trim. There is always a line up of cars parked below. An assortment of buttons are mixed into the cement and stone steps that you climb to the front porch.

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Inside, the main room has original knotty pine walls and a working potbelly stove for heat. Hand colored photographs by a local artist are displayed for sale.

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An eccentric collection of salt-and-pepper shakers line the walls.

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Behind this quirky façade, there is a long history of food and relationships that began in 1946, with a local character named Lil Lavicka.

Lil was known as the “pie lady”. As part of a divorce settlement, her husband hastily built a small two-room café where she could sell her baked goods. On this hilly spot, in tiny Allenspark, her pie house flourished for twenty summer seasons. It was just a stone’s throw across the street from a teeny house, where she lived into her 90’s.

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where Lil lived

Several changes of ownership and some 30 years later, Lil’s place was renamed Meadow Mountain Café. The menu became daily breakfast and lunch fare. Food was fresh and home-cooked to order, the coffee hot, with a hint of cinnamon. Consistently delicious food, friendly servers and reasonable pricing enhanced its reputation within the small community and radiated beyond. Locals and tourists began lining up for a table inside, or on the covered porch with hummingbird feeders, flowers and an overhanging pine tree. Lil’s seasonal pie house evolved into an Allenspark landmark with regularly returning customers, who eventually became friends.

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Roxanne [Rocky] St. John began waiting tables at Meadow Mountain in the late 1970s. Almost right away she was moved into the kitchen and continued to work the grill after two other women purchased it in the 1980s. Rocky finally took over solo ownership in 2007. It was time to put her personal stamp on the place.

Rocky is responsible for introducing the veggie burger and the incredible green chili sauce for huevos rancheros. Both became specialties of the house. Cinnamon spiked coffee remains standard, of course.

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a delectably fine lunch: veggie burger and sweet potato fries

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breakfast specialty: huevos rancheros with green chili sauce

She chose the current paint colors, including easy-on-the-eye peach walls in the kitchen and built the button inlaid steps for safer access in all weather conditions. The funky array of coffee mugs and salt-and-pepper shakers were always part of her style. The music that blasts from the kitchen is pure country western or rock-n-roll oldies. Son Joe mans the grill, daughter Alicia works the front, and husband, Danny, does whatever needs doing. It’s a full family operation, year round, with added help in summer. On Tuesdays, they take one day of rest.

We have been driving from our cabin in Estes Park to Meadow Mountain Cafe for more than 15 years. I go by myself, with family, or with friends, usually for breakfast, sometimes lunch. It never disappoints. It’s not meant to be fast food.

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You wait patiently and sip good coffee, talk leisurely. Perhaps you warm your back sitting at the counter by the antique stove, muse over the salt-and-pepper collection, read a book, or eavesdrop quietly on another conversation. You watch regulars walk into the kitchen looking for Rocky and to say hello. A table of friends play cards in the corner after their meal. At the other counter, a man leans his chin into one hand, and dozes, holding his coffee cup with the other.

Orders parade out of the kitchen. Coffee mugs are refilled. Homemade brown bread is sliced thickly for toast or sandwiches. Summer requires twice-a-day baking to keep up with demand. The scene is homey and multi-dimensional–from the diversity of people stepping through the front door to the din of kitchen music, mingled conversations and laughter, and the clatter of clearing plates as another table empties and fills. It always feels just right. You are glad to be hungry and in Allenspark.

What sustains 70 years of successful continuity in a community of just over 500 people? Rocky, and the female owners before her, perfected a simple yet timeless formula. Starting with an old-fashioned hard work ethic, they stay passionate about what they do and consistently do it very well. Quality is always high, service friendly, and customer relationships strong. And then, just maybe, a little hint of cinnamon in the coffee doesn’t hurt either.

I hope you have your own gem of a hometown café–a place with honest food, ambience, and feeling of community–where you seek to be nurtured over and over again.

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St. Catherine of Siena Chapel [Chapel on the Rock], St. Malo Conference Center, Allenspark, CO

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hand colored black and white photo of St. Catherine chapel, before the flood of 2013, purchased at Meadow Mountain

More Than Just an Egg Sandwich

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In Colorado, the holiday season was snow-white and the fireplace blazed night and day. There were deer and elk on the hillside, daily hikes into the National Park, a miniature snow-woman laboriously constructed from barely packable “dry” snow, and, of course, there were egg sandwiches.

IMG_0936A multi-layered, made-to-order egg sandwich is staple breakfast fare when we are at home in the mountains. It is nourishment spiced with location, now entwined in longstanding tradition. The ritual evolved, as things often do, from something I read.

Some 20 years ago, I was immersed in the writings of MFK [Mary Frances Kennedy] Fisher. She weaves autobiographical stories of people, place and food together in descriptive prose. Her mythologizing of Aunt Gwen’s fried egg sandwiches particularly captured my imagination. It is the tale of a child’s realization that food and life’s lessons are often inseparable from a strong, loving mentor.

When Fisher was a young girl, several influential summers were spent with Aunt Gwen in Laguna Beach, California. As Mary Frances explained, “…she taught us a thousand things too intangible to report, as well as how to roast kelp leaves, steam mussels, tease a rattlesnake away from a frightened horse, skin an eel after sundown, and stay quiet while a night-blooming cereus [cactus flower] unfolds…”

With Aunt Gwen leading the way, Mary Frances and her younger sister  hiked the hills and cliffs above the beach, singing hymns and marching songs at the top of their lungs. And always, there was an egg sandwich, or two, carefully tucked into their pockets.

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the hills above laguna beach

In the good Laguna days, it was an exciting promise, to warm up the pan, ready the ingredients, and make fried-egg sandwiches. Aunt Gwen insisted that we have at least two pockets somewhere on us, one for shells, stones, small fish, or lizards, and one big enough to hold these greasily wrapped, limp, steamy monsters. Then we would race the sunset to a high hill. The sandwiches stayed warm against our bodies, and when we panted to a stop, and fell against a good rock or an old eucalyptus trunk, the packets sent out damp insistent invitations… We each had two sandwiches. The first we gnashed at like fairly well mannered puppies. The second was for contemplation, as we watched all of the quiet empty slopes down to the cliff edge, and the great ocean with the sun sliding into it. —MFK Fisher, Among Friends, Alfred A. Knopf Inc. 1970

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sunset at laguna

What I love about this Fisher story is that it is goes beyond the satisfaction of physical hunger. Fisher was learning, at a young age, that the right combination of food, company, and spiritual nourishment were a metaphor for living well. The spiritual ingredients of those egg sandwiches included “equal parts of hunger and happiness”, a hillside sunset, and companions she loved.

There are no cliffs overlooking the ocean where our cabin is located, but cool summer mornings and darkly cold winter ones stimulate good appetites. Mountain views, towering ponderosa pines and native wildlife provide our spiritual geography. When we are in residence in Colorado, family and friends are often with us. With Fisher’s story in mind, a tradition was born around the kitchen table in winter and the front porch in summer—our mountain version of the fried egg sandwich.

Aunt Gwen’s original recipe was well documented. It started with heating the grease from whatever was cooked the day before in a large flat-bottomed skillet. When the fragrant drippings reached a smoking hot temperature, an egg was dropped in, the yolk broken, and quickly fried so that the edges were crisply brown and barely digestible. Next, two slices of good bread were added to the pan and browned on one side only. The cooked egg was slapped into the middle of the bread slices and pressed together. Finally, the whole thing was wrapped in wax paper that partially melted into the sandwich, small pieces of which were consumed when bit into with hunger and a happy heart. An ocean hillside sunset and good companionship completed satisfaction of body and soul.

As an aid to digestion and modern taste preferences, this is our contemporary version.

ROCKY MOUNTAIN EGG SANDWICH  

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basic ingredients, before adding options

Ingredients [physical]

  • Thick sliced smoked bacon, cooked crisply                                                          
  • Eggs, preferably brown and free range
  • Jalapeño jack cheese [or cheese of choice]
  • Toasted English muffins [or good brown bread]
  • Salsa or fresh tomato slices
  • Fresh spinach [or some kind of leafy green]
  • Avocado slices or guacamole [optional]
  • Salt and pepper to taste
  • Additional red pepper flakes, as desired

Ingredients [spiritual]

Family and/or friends gathered on a sun-warmed front porch in summer, around the kitchen table or fireplace in winter. Laughter and conversation flowing easily, with a cooked-to-order egg sandwich in hand. Appetites satisfied. Love and camaraderie shared. A new day begins…

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on the front porch in summer

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or around the fireplace in winter

Method

Assemble ingredients. Cook bacon in a well-seasoned cast iron skillet. Using the bacon drippings, crack an egg into round metal form and break the yolk. Season if desired with S&P or red pepper flakes. When egg is set, remove the form and gently turn the egg over for just a few seconds. On toasted English muffin, layer a thin slice of cheese, tomato, bacon and optional ingredients [avocado, salsa, etc.]. Add cooked egg and fresh spinach leaves or other greens. Press the whole thing down to a manageable biting size. Eat immediately while hot, using both hands. A mug of strong coffee or tea makes a desirable accompaniment.

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crack an egg into a round egg form

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break the yolk, season with red pepper, if desired

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constructing sandwich in layers

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completed, before pressing down

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added guacamole option

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with a mug of strong coffee

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the option of good bread instead of english muffin, coffee still mandatory

Traditions are specific to individuals or families, but the meaning behind Aunt Gwen’s egg sandwiches is as important to me as it was to a young girl a century ago.

All I could now say about Aunt Gwen will never be said, but it is sure that much of my enjoyment of the art of living, as well as of eating, comes from her…as well as my certainty that the two are, or can be, synonymous. —MFK Fisher, Among Friends  

It is fortunate, indeed, at whatever age we learn this to be true.

Sipping Avocado Margs in Summer

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Our United States home is in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. We live, seasonally, in a cabin built on a hillside outside the town of Estes Park. The backside faces the lofty Front Range—mountains towering 10-14,000 feet above sea level. Our cabin sits at a “lowly” 8500 feet under formidable peaks. We gaze upon them from a deck in the summer, or through windows by a wood-burning fireplace in the winter.

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There are no streetlights and roads are unpaved because this hillside community is outside the city limits. It comes landscaped with native pines, tall grasses, sage shrubs, and wildflowers. The only maintenance is digging up an occasional noxious weed or harvesting fallen pinecones and branches for kindling. IMG_1888We built a sacred fire ring with rocks from the land. Campfires are enjoyed around its’ circular border, with stories and laughter or simply the silence of a starry night. Framed by tall ponderosas, this has been our home-away-from-overseas-home since 1991.

The annual summer return to the cabin commences with the first morning wake up call. It’s early, due to a pre-6:00 AM sunrise. Coffee is made before we pull the rocking chairs onto the deck. Mountains and clouds to the south and west are pink-tinged at first light. As the sun makes its’ way gradually upward, colors shift to yellowish gold. When it finally peeks over the eastern ridge line, the sky turns robin’s egg and then lapis blue. The rest of the scenery follows with true colors. Second cup of coffee, still in bathrobes, day begins.

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early morning pink

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pink to gold

There is a different way of “being” in the mountains from our life overseas. Time is simpler, less hurried, less structured. It’s not necessary to “do” much of anything, at least for the first transitional days. We live casually in a uniform of blue jeans, moccasins or hiking boots, cotton or flannel shirts, depending on the temperature. I have been known to wear a fringed leather jacket, but only in that environment.

We eat differently too. The thinner air and long days tempt us with food and drink that somehow “belong” in the high country. Hearty breakfasts of bacon and egg sandwiches, layered with jalapeño jack cheese, tomatoes, and leafy greens are often consumed on the sun warmed front porch. Along with strong black coffee it seems to fuel the day for stacking firewood, trimming dead tree limbs, or hiking into the National Park.

Screen Shot 2014-09-01 at 8.35.49 PMWhen it’s time for a break, there is one place we always return. Ed’s Cantina is a 30-year locally owned and operated Mexican restaurant on the main street of town. The sign on the side door simply states: “Get in Here”. Equally direct is the logo: “Live Forever. Eat at Ed’s.” It’s hard to resist a slogan like that. Eventually you just have to see what is going on there. Avocado Margaritas are what we found.

Screen Shot 2014-09-01 at 8.36.28 PMDietitian Daughter, notably savvy in combining nutrition with good taste and pleasure, showed us the way. We fell in love, one by one. It’s a great reason to drop in at Ed’s on a warm summer afternoon.

For the nutritionally minded, avocados are one of the healthiest food choices around. They are a terrific source of mono-unsaturated fat. For the uninitiated, this kind of fat is desirable for it’s ability to lower LDL [bad] cholesterol while raising HDL [good] cholesterol. The fats and vitamins [E and C among them] are good for skin tone and texture. There are documented gains for the avocado’s anti-inflammatory properties, including reducing the pain of inflammatory disorders such as arthritis. There you have it. Avocados, even in liquid form, provide a nice range of health benefits!

This summer, we ate a lot of avocados in the form of the simplest, lime-iest, homemade guacamole. Store bought jars, tubs or tubes cannot compare with the flavor of your own effort. It actually takes very little effort because “less is more” with guacamole. Allow the avocado to shine with subtlety and a light touch. With only a minimum of ingredients its’ creamy deliciousness is enhanced. Use guacamole as a sandwich spread [breakfast egg sandwich, yes!] or, more traditionally, as a dip with tortilla chips. Better to keep your avo margs and guacamole as separate dining ventures, though.

Spread out the good times and the good nutrition.

GUACAMOLE à la Colorado

  • 2 [or more] ripe avocados
  • diced red onion
  • diced or pressed clove of garlic
  • salt
  • pepper
  • juice of fresh lime
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    basic ingredients

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mash avocados

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add onion, garlic, S & P

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add squeezed lime juice

Cut around outside of avocado and separate the halves. Scoop the meat out of the rind with a spoon and discard the pit. Mash avocado in a bowl with a fork or potato masher. Add onion, garlic, S&P. Stir together. Squeeze in as much fresh lime juice as you like, to taste. Adjust seasonings.

Best when served with Esmeralda’s homemade tortilla chips purchased at weekly Farmer’s Market. Thin and not too salty. Delicious with any dip or alone. Will keep in refrigerator without discoloration by covering with plastic wrap pressed down on top of guacamole, allowing no air space.

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guacamole dip with esmeralda’s chips

ED’S AVOCADO MARGARITA  [AVO MARG by order]

  • ½ ripe avocado
  • Jose Cuervo Silver Tequila
  • Agave syrup
  • Limeade [they say theirs is homemade, but frozen concentrate is fine]
  • Ice
  • Lime garnish

In blender, scoop one half avocado, a shot [or so] of tequila, a generous squirt of agave syrup, an even more generous pour of limeade and lots of ice. Blend together on high setting. Serve in tall, salt rimmed beer glass, garnished with a slice of lime.

  • Best when sipped with a good friend on Ed’s outdoor patio with the Big Thompson River rolling by.

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in blender: 1/2 avocado

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add tequila, agave syrup, ice, limeade

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almost ready

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the pour

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pouring…

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Voilá! Perfection in a glass

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Live Forever at Ed’s.