Living in Los Angeles, we know it's Fall by looking at our calendars not by the weather. October is usually one of our hottest months with no colorful, falling leaves, frost or crisp, cool days to be found. While I don't miss Winter, after two decades of living in the California sun, I still desperately yearn for the sights and smells of Autumn.
Since traveling is rarely an option, I have begun to enjoy the season by living vicariously through pictures and blogs I find on the Internet. The current crop is all about apples. The visions of pies, tarts and cakes, as well as piles of this fresh fall fruit have left me craving one of my childhood's sweetest and simplest joys: the Atkins Farms Cider Donut.
My grandmother was obsessed with them and subsequently, so were we. It was her way of treating us, without breaking her bank. (They cost a quarter a piece then, now still a steal for 50 cents.) Once harvest season began, we'd head out to Atkins to indulge in their – now famous – baked goods...and fresh-pressed apple cider. Heated to take the chill off the morning.
They bake the donuts fresh every day, infusing them with the cider and liberally dusting them with a mixture of cinnamon and sugar. The recipe hasn't changed in over 35 years with good reason. In 2008, they were rated by Saveur Magazine as one of the 12 best donuts in the country. Something I – and most of Western Massachusetts – have known since 1972. Well, 1976 for me.
While back home in Massachusetts for my father's 70th birthday – which
is so hard to believe – my husband, older sister Sue and I wanted to
take him out one night for a first-class, adult meal before the nieces
and nephews descended and the backyard grilling began. We tried to get him to choose a place he wanted to
go, but he wasn't in the mood to decide, so he left it up to us. He was
thrilled we were there – it's been a year since we were together – and
glad for a night out, but the occasion was something he would rather
have ignored. I can't say I blame him.
Martha’s Vineyard in the Fall is the secret treasure of Vineyarders. The “summer people (some are not)” have returned to their sophisticated rat races, leaving perfect weather and fabulous restaurants to the people who really love the Vineyard – those whose families have been living in Martha’s Vineyard since, well, the 17th Century.
Restaurants aren’t supposed to be real. Real you can get at home. Restaurants are for fantasy of one kind or another. A shot-and-beer bar with sawdust on the floor can fulfill a fantasy or bolster an ego as well as an elegant French dinner with all the trimmings. It just depends on who you want to pretend to be at the moment.
In the mid-1970s, when I lived in Providence the food wasn't very good.
Sure there was great local seafood, especially clams and lobsters, but
if you wanted to eat out, your choices were pretty much limited to
diner food and and Mafia Italian.
