All Hail The Midwest
13 things our home does better than yours.
July 1. Halfway through the year. Unbelievable.
We’re both back in the US…and both back home in the Midwest, which is really exactly where we want to be leading into the 4th of July holiday.
Adam’s nuptials in Tuscany were beautiful. I’ve been back stateside for about a week, and he’s coming home fresh off a honeymoon hotel tour across Italy (you can expect a digest on that very soon). So forgive our radio silence over the last couple weeks. We’re glad to be properly back at it. And these last weeks of field research, as we like to call it, have brought fresh perspective that could only be attained through a strict daily ritual of stiff Negronis and bowls of Vongole pasta. My bathroom scale will corroborate this.
We’ve talked many times about returning home from our travels. The way being on the road shapes an appreciation for what we’re so lucky to have back home. Returning to an NYC apartment in the summer heat is one thing, but heading for lake life in the Midwest really does compound the feeling that we have it made.
Our close friend in New York recently said something we never thought we’d hear…
“I’ve always wanted to do a midwest summer.”
People are hardly saying this. Why?
Our love for domestic travel has always been well-founded. We’ve seen what all the praise is about on the East Coast. From city to Nantucket. We’ve surrendered to the beaches of the South (not to forget the BBQ). And we understand why people move West: to surf, wear baggy pants, and pick up hobbies like ceramic mug making and trail running. Cali life has its pull. But along the way, we haven’t been staunch enough in our advocation for our own home.
The Midwest has never been particularly good at selling itself. And in some ways maybe that’s a good thing.
After enough time away, we’ve realized there’s a healthy list of things that nobody does better. So here are a few things our home does better…than, well, yours.
(We’re prepared to defend this list aggressively.)
Lake Life // Not beach clubs. Not a shoreside resort with a DJ and bottle service. Actual lake life. Pontoon boats. Restaurants with boat slips. Afternoons that start at noon and end at midnight without anyone planning it that way. There is a universal Midwest understanding that “up north” requires no further explanation—no address, no GPS coordinates, no follow-up questions. You just go. We know this world inside and out. And we’d put it up against any coastline on the planet.
Cabins // Wood-paneled walls. A bonfire pit out back. Questionable plumbing. You might call it a cottage…but we call it a cabin (definitely not a lakehouse). On a lake in Minnesota or Wisconsin, no amount of interior design budget can replicate what took decades to quietly accumulate. Character isn’t purchased—it accrues.
Supper Clubs // Picture this: white tablecloths, $4 brandy old-fashioned sweets, and the smell of fry oil. Now add taxidermy to the walls, maybe a fish tank, and a ribeye that arrives with a bread basket that could anchor a small boat. This service isn’t fine dining. It’s something far better. And it’s one of the greatest dining formats America ever produced. How is this not universally craved?
The Fish Fry // Someone recently asked us what a “fish fry” was. Then they asked about walleye. This was in Charleston, so we’ll give them a pass. But for those who don’t know—a proper Friday night fish fry is a civic institution. And shore lunch? From catch to filet to fried goodness in seconds? Shore lunch is one one of God’s greatest gifts to earth. Catholicism and fried fish built this region. We’re believers.
