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There is nothing quite like the smell of bacon frying in a well-seasoned black cast iron pan on the grill at sunrise on the beach. My family, for reasons I can’t recall, regularly traveled to Jones Beach, about twenty minutes from our Long Island home, to do breakfast in the dunes. It was always uncrowded, slightly chilly with a sweet stickiness in the air. And strangely peaceful. I remember we often went there with other families, although I am not sure whom. The complete lack of conflict, the absence what we would call today “issues,” was memorable. It seemed like everyone in my family enjoyed these excursions. It was the beach after all, with waves crashing in the background. Before you were wide stretches of sand, and the huge Atlantic expanse. The beach continues to feed my soul, but the combination of family, of community, food shared, and the controlled chaos of activity, was something I can viscerally recall.
Daddy cooked. He’d make pancakes, scrambled eggs with cheese, bacon, sausage, French toast. Mom did all the preparations at home of course, all lovingly arranged in glistening Tupperware, then again into a large green Coleman cooler. Everything got packed in an ever-so-orderly way in the trunk of our 1965 red Plymouth convertible. Daddy would get the fire going in one of those permanent roadside-type grills set back in the dunes. I am sure this is where I learned to light a grill fire: Pile the coal briquettes, drizzle some lighter fluid, perhaps add a bit of crumpled newspaper, and light a match. Wait thirty minutes till the coals are about 2/3 white, spread them out and you are good to go.
Mom set the table just like at home. A nice tablecloth was a must. Bugs and wind were just part of the deal and only added to the felt naturalness of the experience. The kids, me being the youngest, were completely free to run around, be wild and crazy, disappear or stay put. This juxtaposition of freedom and security, perhaps was key to the whole “soul feeding” experience. Just so you know, about a month ago, on a beautiful August Saturday morning, I fired up my new 38” Frontgate stainless steel grill and cooked some bacon in my own cast iron skillet right there in my backyard for the very first time.
Thank you God for daddy’s that teach their daughters to grill and moms who always seem to pack the Tupperware. And for fresh air and the sounds, sights, smells and tastes of the beach, especially when shared with family and friends. Amen.
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