My mother packed coolers and bags with food, snacks, fruit, napkins, paper cups and a big thermos of the worst iced tea you've ever tasted in your life. Honestly, I don't understand how a woman who cooks as good as she does can screw up iced tea, but she did. I think it had something to do with stretching a dollar and putting in more water than she should have. At home she would dress it up with springs of mint from the backyard, but at the beach, they was no disguising it. "Just shut up," she'd say,"It's nice and cold." And on a hot day at the beach, we would drink it down. I can't go to the beach now without thinking of that iced tea or the special sensation of taking a bite out of a big, sandy peach.
There were sandwiches, cookies, pretzels and such for lunch, but many times we were there through dinner. There were guys selling hotdogs, knishes, sodas and the like, but my parents weren't about to spend all that money. Instead, they did this:
Yes, that is my Dad cooking what appears to be whole chickens, on the beach. The chickens are only half the story. If we were at the beach on a Sunday, there would be macaroni boiling on the BBQ and another pot simmering with tomato sauce. My mother says that the people eating their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner looked longingly at the feast. But I don't think that was jealousy in their eyes. I think it was fear. You know, because of all the crazy.
On the afternoon in the photo, we were in Long Island with another family, the Leos. My father and my "Uncle" Frankie have been friends since they were ten. (My father made a lot of friends when he was 10 and they all remain as close as family for over 60 years now.) So picture us: My parents with 4 kids, the Leos with 3. A BBQ, coolers, a bag of charcoal, lighter fluid, beach bags, towels (including the dish towel hanging off the grill in the picture), and toys. I was a baby during this summer, so there was probably a carriage, diapers, extra clothes, a bottle or two.
Today I went to the pool with the kids and forgot Lindsey's water wings and didn't even pack a granola bar. My mother not only packed raw chickens, but she remembered to bring utensils, and a book of matches. And this is before mini-vans.
And look at my father in this picture! The hat, those glasses, the bathing suit. No one ever looked this good cooking chicken. I love that someone had the presence of mine to say, "Take a picture of Louie cooking the chickens," because who would have believed it otherwise?
2 comments:
Your photo brings back memories of beach vacations with my family. As while my father never actually grilled chickens on the beach, he did always spend more time in the grocery than the sand.
We always joked, the first thing he did when we arrived at the place we were staying, we all headed to the beach while dad went to the grocery.
I'm sure he spends more time at the grocery while on vacation than anyone.
We've been to all the groceries in the Panama City area as well as other places around the country.
And we laugh, we did enjoy the food.
Joanne that is the funniest thing I ever read. Cant stop laughing. LOL. You need to forget the blog and write a book. too funny.
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