Southbound
A change of scene and season
It was cold and blustery in State College the night I drove down to Frederick, MD, to my brother and his wife’s Launching Pad. Getting three hours south on the first day gave me a head start. Geoff and Barbra are hospitable to the nth degree, and we enjoyed a cozy chicken dinner that warmed body and soul.


I left Frederick at eight on the Saturday before Christmas and made it to Santee, South Carolina by early eve of Solstice, with only a few slowdowns and reroutes away from I-95 due to accidents. The Fairfield in Santee is convenient, right off the highway, and next to a low-key and very authentic Thai restaurant. A red curry soup and a glass of Josh Chardonnay provided a sweet landing spot, and the next day’s drive was shorter than the Saturday push. The weather was getting warmer by the mile, and I tucked away my puffer jacket and boots.


I had time to think about what the menu might be for Christmas dinner, and also to check in with family to see what was cooking. My sister Mary sent our Mom’s recipe for a roasted beet salad that would be perfect for our feast, with a switch from blue cheese to feta and from walnuts to hickory nuts. What you have is what you get.


There was a landscape crew at Al and Mary’s in Cocoa Beach when I arrived; it was a beehive of activity between them and the tiki bar installers. I retreated to the house and looked up local meat markets to try to get a sense of what was available in the area. Wassi’s Meat Market in Melbourne had the best reviews, and I went over in the morning and was very impressed with their offerings.
The last four Christmases we celebrated in Wyoming, and prime rib was the main course for Christmas dinner. I knew that Al would be bringing up his stone crab claw harvest, so I wanted to have some red meat, but not that much. I did some recon Monday morning and decided to consult with the principals about the main—that would be Mary, as we were joining her table. She liked the idea of steaks, so I went back in on Tuesday and encountered a big line. At least they were handing out samples of their prime rib along with mashed potatoes and a smear of horseradish cream. That’s the way to sell.



Meanwhile, John was thundering down I-95 and arrived late that afternoon. We ducked over to The Fat Snook, a restaurant a mile away from the house that had a very robust happy hour. We sat at the bar for a drink and shared three half-priced appetizers that made us realize we would need to come back again and again.--sized glass of rosé






-The next morning was Christmas Eve, and there was a Surfing Santas event at Cocoa Beach that started at 7:30. Our server, Sarah, at The Fat Snook recommended we ride our bikes as traffic is a force on the narrow island. That was good advice.
The rest of Eve we spent regrouping, eating an easy fondue for two, and catching up with friends far away. We looked forward to Al and the fam’s arrival and were surprised when the first person to pop out of the van on Christmas Day was Santana.


Then it was time to hustle Christmas dinner to the table. The crab claws were easy; Mary made her delicious garlic butter with lemon and parsley. The steaks needed only some seasoning and then a sear in a cast-iron pan before finishing in the oven (there is no grill at Casa Coco so don’t plan on any barbecuing if you come). Only we set off the smoke alarm, which lent an air of festive panic until Al vaulted up to reset it. The ceilings are high.






My only disappointment was that I messed up my favorite Christmas dessert, an Orange Baked Alaska, but you can read how to make it here. I used a carton of egg whites, thinking it would simplify the process and save me from having to incorporate six egg yolks somewhere. But my meringue was not very firm and slid off the ice cream. Here is a photo of what it should have looked like—though the shlumpy versions were tasty, too. No photos; I was too depressed.
We had a couple of excellent bottles of wine, which eased my pain and suffering, and the dishes magically got done while the new Victrola turntable spun Michael Jackson. I’ll Be There. I Want You Back. Beat It. Coco danced and hula-hooped around. It was an excellent Christmas indeed!







