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Served: Cooks, Inspiration, and Giant Zucchini on Orcas Island

Posted by Hannah Howard, September 2, 2008 at 10:30 AM

I blog by day and wait tables by night. I'm excited to bring you Served, dispatches from the front of the house. Enjoy!

My composer friend U. returned yesterday to Columbia in New York from conservatory in London. We sat on the library steps in the sunshine and talked about how much she’s grown and grown up.

She said, “I used to be so intimidated by these brilliant musicians.” Now, they are her friends. “When we’re drinking together and singing in the streets of Brick Lane,” she explained, “I’m not focusing on how talented they are.”

Being surrounded by accomplished people can be incredibly inspiring. It can also be challenging, even discouraging. U. told me she will miss living, working, and partying with great musicians. But she looks forward to the more open and forgiving ears of her less experienced colleagues in New York (Columbia is a great liberal arts college; it is certainly not a conservatory.

Vacation

I have been travelling with my friend J., an unquestionably talented woman. At the ripe old age of 22, she has cooked in multiple formidable Manhattan restaurants, ran the kitchen of a new cheese and wine bar (where I wait tables), and now is a buyer at Bierkraft, in Brooklyn— a badass beer, cheese, chocolate and specialty food store.

We played and feasted in Seattle, and then took off for a few totally un-urban days in Orcas, one of the San Juan Islands, in the northwest corner of Washington.

The long journey from Seattle made Orcas Island feel especially middle-of-nowhere. We rode a bus to another bus to Anacortes, where we waited for the ferry on a sandy beach with ridiculously stunning views of ocean and mountains.

Cooks Are Everywhere

What brought us to this remote island was J.’s friend Alex. Alex and J. cooked together in New York, and became good friends. Now he lives and cooks on the island. Kitchens everywhere share a certain rhythm, intensity, and ethos. But in Orcas, Alex jumps into the cold ocean every night after service. The kitchen opens up onto a lush garden and a greenhouse. In the woods a few feet beyond, they forage for mushrooms.

On the ferry ride from Anacortes to Orcas, we snacked on smoked salmon, chipotle cheese curds, and cherries we had the foresight to buy from Pike Place Market that morning. We watched waves crash and little humps of island peek out of the ocean.

Annie, Alex’s girlfriend, picked us up from the ferry. We had never met, but she greeted us with big hugs. In her car (the driver’s seat door was the only one that opened, so we had to climb in through the window) she had the hugest zucchini I’ve seen. It was the size of a fat baby.

We picked up beer from the island version of a bodega, and she drove us through windy streets that hugged clear water and towering pines.

“Are you girls up for a pizza party, on a farm? They have a great brick oven outside.”

Um, yes!

Welcome to Orcas

We brought the gargantuan zucchini and two six-packs as our offering. “You can leave your bags in the car,” she said, “and don’t worry about locking the door.” Clearly, we were not in New York City anymore.

The farm was Eden. J. and I were dumfounded. We walked past fig trees, tiny plums with purple skins, giant plums with yellow skins, blackberries, and chestnut trees. We talked to farmers, and future farmers, and artists, and friends.

Over crispy pizzas and beers around a campfire, Annie recited a long list of the various New York City restaurant kitchens where she had cooked. We talked about favorite after-work bars and asshole chefs. We knew some of the same people. Small world, indeed.

We listened to a group of guys strum on their guitars and banjos and wail blue grassy tunes. After a few beers, I had to pee.

“Where is the bathroom?” I inquired.

Annie pointed to the great outdoors.

After the pizza party, we went for a midnight skinny-dip in the frigid lake.

The Coup

For a few days, I was lucky to live with awesome cooks. We slept in Alex’s bed in the converted chicken coup he shared with three other guys. He slept in his tent, outside.

In the morning, Alex made breakfast. Good coffee—everyone drinks serious coffee in the Pacific Northwest—with milk straight from the cow of the people next door. He scrambled eggs from his chickens with tomatoes from the garden; and cooked up potatoes (from the garden) with zucchini and garlic (also from the garden!).

Al, the town baker, lived with Alex. He brought home perfect baguettes with crisp, caramelized crusts and a light middle that melted in my mouth.

We left before the pickling party, but Al already had multiple jars of kimchee going. He was brewing a big batch of mead, and canning yellow tomatoes.

These were serious cooks. They were also passionate, creative, crazy, and wonderful people. I was inspired being around them, chatting and diving into the ocean, hiking up mountains and chopping up onions.

I love New York fiercely and deeply, but there are many ways to live. I loved seeing the stars in the sky. I loved how open and generous people were. I loved the juicy plums, straight from the tree, and the way the air smelled and tasted clean and sweet.

Words of Wisdom

“What do you want to do after school?” Annie asked me.

“I’m not sure,” I replied, which is the lackluster answer I have given countless times. “But I’m enamored with the food and restaurant world,” I admitted to her. I assumed she would understand.

“Don’t do it!” But her words were totally unconvincing. She had a huge smile on her face.

Like U., I learned to love these cooks. I also learned to remember that they are just people, with a patchwork of great and less-than-great qualities.

She said goodnight, as she had to get up early to bake 200 cupcakes for a wedding.

Back to Real Life

I just got back home to New York, moved into my place in Morningside Heights, and am getting ready to return to work and school.

Like U. will miss her music comrades, I will miss being around people who are experts at growing and cooking delicious things. In a few short days, I am newly inspired. I hope to keep a little bit of island spirit alive in my Manhattan life.

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Tags: Orcas Island, Served, Washington