It was after that and after I walked down to Oak Creek, just visible from the porch, yet one more time that I stopped saying it wasn’t home. Every day, every hour there is different. In the fall you might catch bronze or flame-orange reflections of shoreline trees. In February, a white-and-black symphony of frozen waves. On a still afternoon in shimmering heat, opaline water merges with sky. At sunset on an ordinary day the creek might suddenly turn into rainbow ice cream or a wide smoky pink-violet ribbon surrounded on all sides by dark blue.
You might glimpse a duet of dragonflies or barn swallows, ducks, swans, geese, gulls, a splash of fish, a snake gliding surreptitiously past that beautiful swimmer, the blue crab, or a hawk cruising for songbirds. In the distance, a white dot of sail tracing the horizon. Closer in, a workboat noisily patrolling for fish. At the shore, statue-still and silently fishing against a mural of high marsh grasses and mallows in flower, a blue heron, a great white egret, or a belted kingfisher. Overhead, a pair of acrobatic ospreys.
The fragrances of the creek, wild, tame, or an intoxicating blend, as brine mingles with grasses, marsh, diesel fumes, and the sounds rising from it all—wind, birds, and engines—join in a chant of purpose and message. When you walk down to the water’s edge, there is no telling what you’ll find.
Then, too, something changed about the house itself over time. She—houses like ships are indisputably feminine—is still beautiful, still restored, and lately flaunts a brass plaque attesting to her historic merit. Hopefully, this will give her a better chance at survival than when we first found her and I expect she will survive longer than we ourselves will. But
something changed. Hugo no longer caresses a swath of plaster he’s just repaired, lovingly checking to see if it’s as perfect as can be. I no longer hunt for the ultimate house accessory. The recollection of tracking down the perfect doorknob for the parlor—slightly decorative but not too ornate, a reproduction rather than a costly original, but a careful, subdued one with just the right patina—makes me shake my head now in wonder.
Still as fine as the day we finished work, the house has faded in my day-to-day awareness to slightly blurred background. Walking through the rose, yellow, and cream rooms, I may be looking for Hugo. When he takes a nap, I wake him up after fifteen or twenty minutes to be sure he’s all right, and probably always will.
The other day he admitted that at the start of this journey he was scared and unskilled. We’re older now, he pointed out, and know more. If we ever move on, it won’t be because this wasn’t good, worthy, even wonderful. The reason would be that it isn’t possible for us to think in large increments of time anymore. How would you like to spend the next thirty, twenty, or even ten years is a question for the young, not us. But home, yes, and so much sweeter because of the bitter.
The fields, too. Last autumn the back field turned entirely yellow again, not brilliant buttercup yellow this time, but a paler, softer, impossibly gold-orange-yellow. I walked out through the gate to see if the buttercups had come back and instead found soybean plants drying in the fall light. Without a doubt the scene was more beautiful than before. I picked my way slowly along the edge of the field, which was fringed with majestic goldenrod spires, small white daisies, a reprise of June’s flowering chicory, and some newcomers. First I spotted tiny sky-blue morning glories twining up through the soybeans’ teardrop leaves and almost missed a knockout of a flower, buttery with touches of blush on the outer petals and, at its center, exactly matching pink and yellow stamens. Three or four perched on a stem, they seemed like miniature butterflies. I stood perfectly still, letting the scene wash over me, symbolism and all, not wanting to think or analyze for once, just taking it all in.
Notes from the Kitchen
HERE IS A SAMPLING OF DISHES THAT HAVE WON THE hearts of our guests at Royal Oak House, and that at the same time are true to the spirit of the Chesapeake’s Eastern Shore, its history, land, seasons, and farms.
Yes, there are no crabs here because this rarity, perfectly fresh crab, is really best savored on a special occasion close to the source, dockside, with a fork or mallet in hand. The recipes we’ve chosen to include for breakfast, teatime, and brunch draw on widely available—and unendangered—ingredients. They are mostly simple to prepare if you know your way around a kitchen, and a few, like the pears and maybe a succulent breakfast pudding, are easy even if you don’t. Please enjoy!
FRUITS & FIRSTS
A Pair of Pears
Old-Fashioned Blackberry Muffins
Cloud Muffins
SWEETS
Sticky Buns As Big As Your Hand
Apple-Sour Cherry Crisp with Rebel Yell
Persimmon Pudding
Black Walnut Milk Cake
Hugo’s Prizewinning Praline Pumpkin Pie
MAINS & SIDES
Eastern Shore Breakfast Pudding
Old Bay Potatoes
Bay Spice
Royal Oak Fried Chicken
Southern Green Beans
Green Tomatoes
ON THE PORCH
Mint Juleps
FRUITS & FIRSTS
• • •
A Pair of Pears
With citrus and star anise, these poached pears make a refreshing and eye-catching start to breakfast or brunch.
2 large, firm, ripe pears
½ lemon
2 cups water
1 tablespoon honey
4 star anise
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 tablespoons zest of lime *
2 tablespoons zest of orange
sweetened lime juice (or Rose’s brand)
grenadine syrup
Cut the pears in half lengthwise, peel and remove the cores, leaving the stems for a decorative touch. In a medium-size, stainless steel saucepan, place the pears in a single layer, cut side down, and squeeze lemon juice over the fruit to prevent it from turning brown. Add water, honey, two of the star anise, and vanilla. Cover and simmer until fruit is fork tender, about 15 minutes.
Remove the pears to four small dessert plates, cut side down, decorating each plate with a star anise (which is beautiful but inedible—substitute an herb leaf or an edible flower if you prefer). Reduce juices if necessary to four tablespoons and pour the juice over the fruit. Sprinkle the zest of the citrus on each serving and pour a teaspoon of lime juice alongside each pear half and a teaspoon of grenadine syrup along the other side. Serves 4.
* Zest is the thinnest outer layer of green skin, either grated or sliced away from the bitter white pith beneath and finely chopped.
• • •
Old-Fashioned Blackberry Muffins
Crammed with berries, this light batter’s only purpose is to hold all the fruit together.
2 cups flour
½ cup sugar
½ teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons baking powder
2 eggs, beaten
¼ cup canola oil
¾ cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
l/2 pound fresh blackberries or ¾ pound frozen berries, defrosted and well-drained. Red raspberries are wonderful, too, or you can use a combination of red and black berries, if you like.
Heat the oven to 400 degrees. Oil a 12-muffin tin and set it aside.
In a medium-sized mixing bowl stir together with a fork the flour, sugar, salt, and baking powder. In a second bowl, blend the eggs, oil, milk, and vanilla. Combine this mixture quickly and lightly with the dry ingredients. The batter should be lumpy. Gently fold berries into the batter and spoon the batter into the tin, filling each cup two-thirds full.
Bake for 15 to 20 minutes, until the tops are light brown and the muffins are springy to the touch. Serve hot or slightly cool with a fresh berry and a mint leaf perched atop each muffin with a dab of honey. Makes 12 muffins.
• • •
Cloud Muffins
The more cream and butter, the more cloudlike the taste.
2 cups flour
1 tablespoon baking powder 1 tea
spoon salt
1/8 teaspoon nutmeg, freshly grated
1 cup heavy cream
8 tablespoons butter, melted
2/3 cup sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
¼ pound fresh blackberries, or 1/3 pound frozen berries, defrosted and well-drained
Heat the oven to 400 degrees. Butter a 12-muffin tin or line with paper muffin cups.
In a medium-sized mixing bowl whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt, and nutmeg. In a second bowl whisk together the cream, butter, sugar, eggs, and vanilla. Combine this mixture with the dry ingredients, taking care not to over-mix. Fold in berries. Divide the batter among the muffin cups. Bake until a toothpick comes out clean, about 12 to 15 minutes. Serve warm. Makes 12 muffins.
SWEETS
• • •
Sticky Buns As Big As Your Hand
The cooks at the Pasadena Inn in Royal Oak baked sticky buns “as big as your hand,” remembers a long-time resident who was lucky enough to eat them. “They smelled so good you just about couldn’t stand it.” In the 1920s this inn was home to the cast and crew for the filming of Gary Cooper’s The First Kiss. Judged “impossible and overdrawn,” the film does not survive, but memory of the sticky buns lives on.
FOR THE DOUGH
½ cup milk
3 tablespoons oil or butter
3 tablespoons sugar
½ teaspoon salt
½ cup water
1 egg, beaten
3 ½ cups flour, plus ½ cup
2 teaspoons yeast
FOR THE FILLING
1 cup dark brown sugar, packed
4 teaspoons cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon each, cloves and nutmeg
¾ cup raisins
FOR THE TOPPING
¾ cup dark brown sugar, packed
3 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon corn syrup
¾ cup pecan pieces
Heat the milk in a saucepan to just under a simmer, then remove from heat and add 3 tablespoons oil or butter, sugar, and salt. Stir and pour into a large mixing bowl. Add the water to cool the milk. Blend in the egg, 3 to 3 ½ cups flour, and yeast, stirring until the dough pulls away from the bowl. If it’s sticky, work in more flour until you can gather the dough into a ball. Rub the dough ball lightly with oil and return it to the bowl. Cover with plastic wrap or a damp dish towel and set it in a warm place (75—90 degrees) until the dough doubles in size, about 1 ½ to 2 hours. Punch down the dough and allow it to rest for 30 minutes, covered as before.
For the filling, combine the sugar, cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, and raisins and set aside.
For the topping, stir together in a small saucepan the sugar, butter, and corn syrup over low heat until just melted (or heat in the microwave for one minute).
Thickly butter a 9 x 13 inch baking pan and pour the topping mix, along with the pecans, into the pan, distributing evenly.
Roll out the dough to a large rectangle, approximately 12 x 20 inches, and spread the filling over the surface. Starting on the short side of the rectangle, roll up the dough to enclose the filling, and cut six slices across the roll.
Place the rolls in the pan and press with the palm of your hand to even and flatten them slightly. Cover loosely until they have doubled in size, about an hour. Shortly before this second rise is complete, heat the oven to 350 degrees. Uncover the rolls and bake on the middle oven rack for 25 to 28 minutes, or until the tops turn medium brown. With a knife immediately loosen the hot rolls from the sides of the pan and invert onto a platter. If you can, keep everyone away until the sticky buns have cooled. Very generously serves 6.
• • •
Apple-Sour Cherry Crisp with Rebel Yell
The tartness of lightly sugared fruits complements bourbon-flavored whipped cream and provides a pleasing start or finish to a festive breakfast.
FOR THE CRISP
4 medium apples, about 1 ¾ pounds, peeled, cored, and thinly sliced *
¾ pound sour cherries, pitted, or one 14-ounce can tart cherries packed in water, well drained
1 cup flour, half whole wheat pastry flour and half-white flour
¼ cup oats
8 tablespoons butter
½ cup brown or white sugar, plus 2 tablespoons for the cherries
1 teaspoon cinnamon
½ teaspoon allspice pinch of salt
1/3 cup walnuts, coarsely chopped
FOR THE CREAM
½ pint heavy cream
1 tablespoon white sugar
1 tablespoon bourbon, such as Rebel Yell
Heat the oven to 375 degrees. Butter an 8 x 8 baking dish. Stir 2 tablespoons of sugar into the cherries, then place all the fruit in the baking dish. In a bowl blend the flour, oats, butter, remaining sugar, cinnamon, allspice, and salt with a fork, pastry cutter, or your fingers until it looks like lumpy bread crumbs. Stir in the nuts. Spread the mixture on top of the fruit. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, until the topping is lightly browned and the fruit bubbles gently around the edges.
Whip together the cream and sugar until it holds soft peaks. Stir in the bourbon. Serve the fruit crisp hot or warm with spoonfuls of cream on top and pass the Rebel Yell for those who want to have a little fruit with their bourbon. Serves 5.
* Granny Smith apples retain their shape after baking, as does a combination with a softer apple, such as Macintosh, which adds juice. We like Golden Delicious, which offers both flavor and texture.
• • •
Persimmon Pudding
Native persimmons ripen to red-orange in the fall. Favored by Native Americans and early colonists for bread and pudding, persimmons taste uniquely of apricot, peach, and pumpkin.
2 cups persimmon pulp*
2 eggs, beaten
1/3 cup maple syrup
1 ¾ cups buttermilk
¼ cup canola oil
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon ginger
¼ teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon vanilla
Pinch of salt
OPTIONAL FOR SERVING
Cream sweetened with sugar and a dash of vanilla
Crystallized ginger, finely minced
Heat the oven to 350 degrees. Butter a shallow 9 x 12 inch, nonreactive baking dish (such as glass or enamel). In a large mixing bowl, combine persimmon pulp, eggs, and all remaining ingredients, and stir until well blended.
Pour the batter into the dish and bake for 55 to 60 minutes, until the center is set. Spoon into warm bowls and serve with cream or whipped cream, sweetened with a tablespoon of sugar and a teaspoon of vanilla. Finely minced crystallized ginger on top of the pudding or the whipped cream adds sparkle. This is comfort food. Serves 8.
Note: Persimmons are a fruit that inspires yearning. If you must have true American persimmon pudding out of season, Dillman Farm will airship the frozen pulp to you, at a price: 800-359-1362 or Dillmanfarm.com
* Persimmons must be completely ripe, soft, and juicy for use. If preparing fresh persimmons, discard seeds and press fruit through a sieve or purée in a food processor. If using canned, sweetened persimmon pulp, omit the maple syrup.
• • •
Black Walnut Milk Cake
The fragrance and piquance of American black walnuts infuse this homey vanilla cake, baked in a cast-iron pan.
4 eggs
1 cup sugar
2 cups flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
pinch of salt
¼ pound butter, melted
1 cup milk
2 teaspoons vanilla
¾ cup chopped black walnuts
¼ cup powdered sugar, as garnish
Heat the oven to 375 degrees. Lightly butter and flour a 10-inch cast-iron, ovenproof frying pan.
Separate egg yolks from the whites and set the yolks aside. In a mixing bowl, beat the egg whites until they hold soft peaks. In another bowl, beat together the sugar a
nd egg yolks until the mixture turns creamy and lemon-colored. In a third, larger bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt, and then add the sugar-egg yolk mixture, along with the melted butter, milk, and vanilla, blending until smooth. Fold in the egg whites and walnuts.
Pour the batter into the pan and bake for about 40 minutes, until the cake turns golden and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Delectable warm or cool, dusted with powdered sugar. Serves 8 to 10.
• • •
Hugo’s Prizewinning Praline Pumpkin Pie
What does it take to turn out a prizewinning pie? Lots of “mouth feel,” as the saying goes. When the pie cracked as it baked, we added a last-minute ring of pecan praline and that convenient coverall, a small mountain of brandy whipped cream, for first prize in the St. Michaels contest, restaurant division.
9-inch deep-dish pie shell
FOR THE FILLING
1 15-ounce can pumpkin, unsweetened
1 cup brown sugar, loosely packed
2 teaspoons cinnamon*
¼ teaspoon cloves*
2 teaspoons fresh ginger, grated
¼ teaspoon salt
2/3 cup whipping cream
2/3 cup milk
4 eggs
FOR THE PRALINE
3 tablespoons flour
3 tablespoons brown sugar
2 tablespoons butter, softened
¾ cup pecan halves
FOR THE CREAM
The House at Royal Oak Page 18
