My exceedingly fortunate childhood is punctuated by specific moments with food, many of which were revelatory, and the sum of which seeded a passion for food and for feeding people. When summertime rolls around, I am reminded of the fresh flavors that animated long, sun-drenched days of childhood freedom and made for quick snacks between adventures, or as the sweet ending to flushed-cheek days of running through the woods.
In my earliest recollections, I can taste butterscotch sundaes from Dairy Supreme, the ice cream stop in our one-red-light-town, where folks gathered in the evenings to enjoy something sweet and cold. For my family, those outings usually happened in our pajamas, sometimes after we were supposed to be in bed. The sticky-sweet sauce and gravity-defying whipped cream tower were decadent and almost always too much for me to finish.
When we were closer to home, Mom gave us all kinds of special treats: thin Swedish pancakes with ice cream, local strawberries dunked in powdered sugar, saltines with chocolate frosting, or fluffernutter sandwiches on white bread. There were healthy treats too, like the corn and potatoes that came from Troyer Farms, and the green beans that mama would send us out to pick before supper. If you have never had the good fortune to sit between rows of green beans, munching on their starchy sweet pods, you have not yet experienced one of my favorite parts of summer. Nothing tastes so fresh as a green bean right out of the field.
On other nights, Dad would come out to campfires we were so fond of building, cracking open a big can of baked beans to nestle into the coals on the edge of the pit. While they heated and wafted their sweet, smokey scent, my siblings and I would forage for skinning green sticks and sit in focused determination while we carefully whittled points on each end. Then hotdogs, and paper plates, and fingers sticky with ketchup and tree bark. And then piles of dirty clothes on the front porch before we piled in for showers that always felt especially good after a long day of sweating and being close to the earth. Why is it that sleep always feels so deeply pleasant after a day like that?
When it wasn’t hotdogs and baked beans we would sometimes go to Mama and Papa’s for a fish fry. We had a constant supply of Lake Erie perch and Walleye from fishing expeditions to Northern Ontario, and we would bread the flaky filets in cornmeal and flour before papa put them in the big cast iron skillet on the old gas burner. Crispy and piping hot, we would dredge each piece through homemade tartar sauce (the kind with lots of sweet pickles). I always had room for one more salty bite.
And on the best nights, the nights I miss the most, Mama would call the family to the big screened porch for strawberry shortcake. My cousins, aunt, uncle, grandparents, siblings, parents, and I would walk through the field, or across the yard, to the big house, led by the scent of fresh biscuits. In a big metal mixing bowl, mama would have thinly sliced strawberries (usually from Troyers) macerated in sugar and ready to be ladled over buttery biscuits and topped with the good whipped cream. It was usually last-light while we ate, and we savored in mostly silent contemplation, lulled into peaceful quiet by the rising orchestra of crickets and barn owls. Us kids would sit cross legged on the floor, full bellies finally helping us to settle down.
I don’t eat my strawberries dipped in powdered sugar anymore, or eat the same amount of chocolate frosting, but I still love campfire baked beans, and fried fish, and strawberry shortcake. So far this summer I’ve had a taste of each. It’s tough to find super-fresh green beans, and nothing tastes as good in a city apartment as it did back home, but these foundational memories of food-joy keep me coming back to the kitchen and the campfire, ready to receive the next sweet bite.

Ansley Kelly (’16) makes her home in Rochester, NY, where she delights in short, sweet summers spent sailing and long winters spent skiing at her favorite mountain. Between outdoor adventures, you can find her buying books more quickly than she can read them and indulging in mid-morning naps. She works for Wegmans Food Markets where she finds purpose and joy in feeding her community and the wider world.
Great days!
Great memories! We will eat in Heaven and your digestive issues will be healed! Looking forward to the great wedding feast with Jesus!