Here in New England, Mother Nature appears to be throwing a real whiz-bang of a send off for summer. If your idea of ideal summer weather is to "feel a bit like a Thanksgiving turkey when I walk out the door", as I heard one radio host describe it, the last few days have been sublime. If, like me, you prefer the cooler parts of summer, the parts that are attended by the acrobatic antics of bats and fireflies, the last few days have been a reminder that "the end of summer" sounds much sadder than it really is.
In honor of the season's symbolic passing (I realize it actually ends in a couple weeks), I've created a personal Best Of list for summer in Lexington.
I grew up in a town so small, that the police station was in the chief's house (his garage to be specific). The center of town consisted of town hall, a historic church, a graveyard and just down the road a dump. I kid you not. Our tiny town was smooshed between two much larger towns, the sort of places that had public buses and pools. We knew entertainment was out there; it was just much farther than we were allowed to ride our bicycles.
So today, each time I announce on my way out the door that I'm going to walk to the yarn store, the library or the farmer's market I get a bit of a thrill. Not only do I live close enough to town that I can walk there; Lexington actually has places worth walking to.
Summer in Lexington has the best music on earth - outdoor music. I recently combined two things that are always better outside, music and food, by bringing my dinner to the Tuesday night concerts at the bandstand in Hastings Park.
It's a beautiful bandstand, with lights in the ceiling and a staircase that folds away and gets locked up when not in use. I can't blame them for locking it up. I'm sure if they didn't kids would play on it and picnics would be held there...not that I know anyone who would have considered such a thing.
My favorite part of the concert (aside from watching the games of catch going on behind the bandstand) was when the audience was invited to join in a march. From toddling barefoot babes, to gray haired ladies relying on canes, a surprising number of people stood up and marched to a well known John Phillip Souza tune. I think it might be the song Monty Python used at the start of their TV show. That evening, I watched from my blanket, a container of lasagna on one side and a scarf I was knitting in my hands, and thought about my Grandmother S. She would have marched if she were there. In fact, I knew the song from a cassette of Souza marches she had stuffed in my stocking one Christmas. I never knew quite why she gave it to me, I'd never shown an interest in that kind of music. As with most of my grandmother's confusing gifts, she seemed to be trying to share something from her childhood. She was born on the fourth of July and early on thought the festivities were all for her. I'm sure one of her many older brothers was happy to set her straight on that account. Even once she knew better she still loved it: the picnics, the fireworks, the parades and the marching bands.
I officially consider it summer when the Friday night Chamber of Commerce concert series begins. These shows are held in front of the Visitor's Center, just across from the famous Minuteman statue. Each week it's a different band, but no matter who is playing, watching the young kids (and their parents) shake and shimmy right up front while the older kids run in circles around Buckman's Tavern is always a great show.
There are families who arrive with giant picnic baskets and make colorful islands of blankets as they meet up with their friends. Others divide and conquer. The mother arrives first with children and family dog in tow. A little later, the father, often still in business attire, arrives triumphantly carrying a pizza box or two. I'm always a little curious which of the two pizza places in town does better business on concert nights.
As the kids start getting tired from climbing trees and hiding from their parents, Mo's Ice Cream truck sets up shop. This is the classiest ice cream truck experience you're likely to ever have. It's always the same driver, who I assume is the Mo from the sign. He's older, like a youngish grandfather and he never rushes anyone, even the four year olds who change their minds with each new picture they see. I always get the Chocolate Eclair, and he always smiles, says "That's a classic" and hands me my treat with a paper towel around it. That paper towel comes in handy if the evening is hot and I try to savor my eclair. I must not be the only one who thinks highly of Mo, because his truck usually has a line, even though the concert is right across the street from Candy Castle.
Yes, you read that right. Lexington's candy store is called Candy Castle. It has whimsical paintings on the windows of a Hansel and Gretel-esque ice cream castle.
All summer they've had a sign on the door that makes me very happy. I love that they even thought to offer it.
A Charleston Chew is usually pleasant enough, but freeze it and it feels like being seven again. Each bite breaks it into smooth edged chunks that soften in your mouth. I don't have a great sense of taste, so texture is really important to me when it comes to food, and these have fun texture.
The first time I encountered frozen candy (aside from my own kitchen), was at an artsy movie theater near Harvard. When I ordered my Junior Mints the cashier asked, "Chilled or original?"
"What was that?" I really hadn't expected there to be any follow up questions to my order.
"Would you like that chilled or at room temperature?" Faced with such an unexpected choice,what could I say but "chilled"?
They were fun to eat, but without their characteristic gooey center, they just didn't seem like Junior Mints. Peppermint Patties on the other hand, which are also chocolate coated, taste even more delicious when frozen.
I probably should have made this Best of Lexington Summer list a bit earlier, ideally before the music series ended, but isn't that the way with summer? It feels like it will last forever, and then suddenly it's gone. That's OK, I'm sure fall will bring new reasons to take a walk into town, and more comfortable weather to do it in.
Sign in the window of the Sweet Thyme Bakery.
