The Glen Lake Wind Storm of the Century

Posted on December 7, 2015 by lisafindley

I grew up in Michigan, so I’m used to spring and summer tornado warnings, siren tests every first Saturday of the month, the necessity of basements to hide in during actual tornadoes. But sometimes all it takes for massive amounts of damage in a short period of time is a powerful storm streaking along in a straight line. On August 2 of this year, the worst storm in local history hit the small town my family and I have vacationed in nearly every year of my life. It didn’t last long, but the damage the storm left behind shut Glen Arbor down for a week.

Welcome to Glen Arbor

I wasn’t there when the storm hit, but some of my family was, and they said it was astonishing how quickly it came on, and how intense it was. What looked like a summer thunderstorm rolling in from the horizon turned into a roaring wind that knocked people over as they tried to get to shelter. No one died during the storm, and there were only a few injuries, which is very lucky.

Winds hit 70 miles per hour in the general area, and up to 100 MPH in the Glen Lake area. Something called wind shear–the change in wind speed or direction with height in the atmosphere–made the winds fiercer and longer lasting than they would have been in a regular storm, and that’s how we got the severe straight-line winds that ripped up hundreds of old-growth trees, knocked out power lines across the county, and threw tree branches on moving cars. (I like the idea of a wind shear just shearing the landscape, cutting along like a razor, but I guess that’s getting a bit fanciful with the language since it doesn’t necessarily mean straight-line winds.)

Here’s some video I took of the destruction. This was taken days after the storm, and you can still clearly see its effects.

We were without power for our entire week up there, which was kind of a bummer at night but mostly annoying because the power was connected to the plumbing. So my sainted dad went down to the lake a couple times each day and trudged back up the stairs with a 40-gallon bucket of water to fill the toilet’s water tank so we could flush.

It was a little like indoor camping, except we hadn’t been planning to camp. Six grown adults smell after a few days, especially when there was no biodegradable soap so we couldn’t wash in the lake, just hope being in it helped a bit. It was too bad not having a stove to cook food on, but we made do with sandwiches and meals out at restaurants in neighboring towns that had power.

Of course for many people, whose homes and businesses had trees sticking out of them at the end of it, it was worse than inconvenient. We did our best to support the local businesses that were still open, especially as it was high season and this is going to make or break people for the year.

It’s hard not to revert to old dynamics when you gather as a family, isn’t it, so although everyone did their best not to complain about the less comfortable conditions we were in, my siblings and I did grumble a bit, and my parents let slip some frustrations as well. The only person who didn’t once complain was my 82-year-old grandmother, who lived through World War II on the southern coast of England and thus sees everything as an improvement on that. We did our best to imitate her.

During the days, we read on the deck and swam in the lake, chatted with each other and dozed in the sun. During the evenings my dad played guitar and we sang until the sun was truly set, and that is no bad way to spend a holiday.

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Below are some photos I took of the destruction around Glen Arbor, and around the lake. At one point we had to turn the car around because the road was impassable. Impressively, this was all cleared up in less than a week.

Where in the World Wednesday

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Cadillac, Michigan; August 7, 2015

Pure Michigan: Still the Best

Posted on July 22, 2013 by lisafindley

A few years ago, the tourism board of Michigan changed its slogan from “Say Yes to Michigan!” (the exclamation point was crucial) to “Pure Michigan.” Yes! was hokey, but Pure is way too much in the other direction. You could put together a medley of Pottery Barn, Lexus, Ann Taylor, and Pure Michigan commercials and not be sure which was which (except that to my knowledge, Tim Allen only narrates one of those). Still, it seems to be a successful campaign, and I’m all for boosting the economy of my beloved home state. Also, it ain’t a lie: this place is beautiful.

View from Pierce Stocking Scenic Drive, post 9.

I spent this past weekend up north, in the small town I remember so well from summer vacations with my family. This time, I was up there for a friend’s wedding. My closest friends came in from around the country (and a couple of us crossed international waters) to witness the wedding of two of the best people we know. Despite all predictions to the contrary, the weather was lovely, and everything about the ceremony and reception was heartfelt and beautiful.

With the bride and groom

We spent some time on the beach, and we went up to the bluffs to take in the view of Lake Michigan shimmering into the horizon. I have been around the world and seen a lot of amazing views, but I can tell you this is still in the top five. It’s good to be here.

Sunset on Lake Michigan

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Farm to Table: Dining at Bare Knuckle Farm in Northport, Michigan

Posted on June 26, 2012 by lisafindley

I wrote this post last year, after my visit to Bare Knuckle Farm up north. It slipped through the cracks when it came to posting. I’m glad I found it; I’m pleased with the piece and excited to tell you about the shortest distance a farm to table gourmet meal has ever traveled. This year they’re focusing on farming and not cooking, so I’m extra glad I had a meal there while I could.

I wore the wrong shoes. Pam had said there was a short tour of the farm before dinner, and one might logically conclude that a tour of a farm might require somewhat sturdy shoes, but I wanted to look nice for dinner, so there I was in a dress and strappy sandals. We’d arrived a little late, which meant our tour was short — hoop houses of towering plants, a muddy pigpen, a field dotted with geese — and I lagged behind the small group, scolding myself for dressing inappropriately, as my friends asked intelligent questions about the diet of chickens and how the tomatoes were doing. I caught up to the group just in time to see one pig chase another across the pen, and then it was time to go up to the house, where, as it turned out, strappy sandals fit in just fine next to cowboy boots and flip flops.

Abra and Jess, cheerful farmers

Bare Knuckle Farm lies outside of Northport, Michigan, the tip of nail on the pinky finger of the state’s left hand. Jess Piskor and Abra Berens are the brains and hard work behind this joint venture. Both University of Michigan grads, they started up a business partnership three years ago based on a mutual desire to grow local, natural food and serve it in a farm-to-table setting. Jess’s grandfather owns the 40 acres of land; most of it is leased to cherry farmers, and the organic farm, so lovingly tended, makes up about 2 acres.

During the growing season, Jess works daily on the farm, and in the summers Abra joins him just about every day. The list of plants they grow and animals they raise is impressive, especially when you think about the small plot of land it’s all done on and the fact that they’re doing it with little assistance and pesticide-free. From May through October, they take their wares to different farmers markets in the region every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. They also run a small CSA (community supported agriculture), providing weekly produce boxes to families in the area. They’ve been covered in local and national press.

Which is to say that they’re incredibly busy people, so the fact that they also set aside a few days every month to prepare special meals for their friends is just another example of their passion for what they do and the generous spirit they do it in.

neat rows of kale at Bare Knuckle Farm

Both Jess and Abra have worked in the restaurant business (including the famous Zingerman’s in Ann Arbor), and Abra is a trained chef who spends her winters working in fancy restaurants in Chicago. So it’s not surprising that they feel strongly about incorporating some form of meal preparation into the operation of the farm. There are several obstacles, however; the restaurateur’s nightmare of health code regulations, zoning ordinances, and so forth, as well as the unique challenges of opening a business venture in a tourist town.

Memorial Day through Labor Day in the northern part of the Lower Peninsula brings the tourists in droves, and more often than not, they’re upper middle class white folks with money to burn on local arts, crafts, wines, and restaurants. But come September, they’re back at home, and the local population returns to its normal level (under 700 in Northport, and 14,000 in Traverse City, the nearest metropolis for a couple hundred miles). Such a feast and famine situation when it comes to customers presents a dilemma to potential entrepreneurs in the area. Jess and Abra have discussed the possibility of opening a seasonal restaurant, in order to benefit from the tourist influx without suffering during the colder months, but as of yet they have no firm plans.

when I visited, the geese were doing lawn duty, munching down grasses in a field

In the meantime, they have friends over every month to try out Abra’s recipes using the literal fruits of their labors. Guests eat at the house, built by Jess’s grandfather in 1961 and still showing his original decorative touches, such as antique sewing machines holding up the deck seats and a working wood-burning stove in the living room. Giant sliding glass doors take up the entire west wall, with a view directly onto the sunset side of Lake Michigan, and mutli-colored bottles line the support beams, allowing the fading light to filter through dusty prisms and set a glow on the dining tables inside.

When we arrived after a short walk up a dirt path through the trees, I was relieved to see the gleaming wood floors and homey mismatched lamps of the main room. This was clearly a place for comfort and companionship, and just about any shoes would fit here. I followed my friends Pam and Matthew out onto the porch, where Abra had served up the appetizer (goat cheese and apple chutney on toasted bread) and the other guests were opening their wine bottles to start the evening off right.

We all got a little acquainted, and then moved inside for the main event. Jess and Abra had printed up a menu, and on the back they listed where each ingredient came from; most were from a five-mile radius of the farm, and it doesn’t get much more local than that. I appreciated the list of ingredients for another reason, too. It shows a serious investment in community and credit-sharing that is not something I normally associate with the culinary world.

charm you can’t fake

One of the advantages of their set-up is that it has the air of authenticity that so many chi-chi restaurants nowadays are trying to reproduce. They didn’t have to carefully re-create old dishware to achieve the mismatched look; those dishes of varying size and color happened to be what they had on hand. No Applebee’s “neighborhood” setting was required; they just plumped up the cushions on the 1970s couch and wiped down the wood table that Jess’s family ate around when he was a boy. If they strike out on a restaurant venture, that’s something to consider, whether they want to continue cultivating that down-home look or shoot for something different. I liked it, and can see it fitting in well in a Northport environment.

Another aspect of the intimate dining environment that was one part friendly conversation, one part fancy restaurant affectation, and one part straight up informative, was the little speech Jess and Abra gave at the beginning of the meal. We were all pouring ourselves a new glass of wine when they came out of the kitchen and said welcome. Jess thanked us for visiting the farm and hoped we’d enjoy ourselves, and then Abra talked us through the menu. She pointed out a few dishes she was especially excited about, such as the salad, which was from a good crop of a certain type of lettuce this year, and the lardo Jess made, which was from last year’s hogs. I loved that she took the time to tell us these things. If the point of a farm-to-table meal is to connect the food on your plate to its source, this seems a necessary step, and if you’re a chef who wants to steer people to appreciate foods they might previously have been unaware of, a pleasurable one.

I was too busy eating and oohing and aahing to take photos, but let me assure you that the presentation was as pleasing to the eye as the food was to the palate. I’ve shared my distaste for vegetables with you all, and I can’t pretend that even this gourmet meal cured me of that, but I will say that a pretty looking salad can make a difference, and collard greens, if placed next to an exquisite chunk of pork, will go a long way indeed. It’s a toss-up whether the poached trout or braised pork cheek (yes, cheek! who knew?) was better, so I will compromise and say both were the best. And then came the cherry ice, made from cherries the next farm over. It’s over a month later and my mouth is watering again, thinking about it.

The atmosphere was entirely genial. We chatted with friends of Pam’s from U of M at one table, and a family from out of state at another. The father of that family generously shared a glass of wine with us during the pork course; he said it went perfectly with the meat, and he was not wrong. After the meal, we sat around chatting as the sun went down, and we watched the kids play with their new puppy on the deck. A lot of this good feeling probably came from the fact that Jess and Abra knew everyone already, but I think their taking the time to sit with us and answer our questions about the farm as well as just chat in general had a lot to do with it as well. I’m sure they were exhausted from an entire day of farmers markets and food preparation, but it didn’t show, and if they can carry that personal touch over to their future restaurant venture, they will create a special bond between restaurateurs and customers that will cement them in the area as a destination for good food served by good people.

Shoe type at your own discretion.