Jeff Houck

The Tampa Tribune’s food writer since 2005, Jeff Houck covers the way people live through their food. He also hosts the Table Conversations food podcast and believes that everything crunchy is good.

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Taking The Cuisinart And The KitchenAid To The Beach [Please Pack Your Knives And Go]

Posted Sep 16, 2009 by Jeff Houck

Updated Sep 16, 2009 at 04:37 PM

Confession time: I’m lousy at taking vacations.

Breathtaking admission, I know.

Here’s one more: I’m lousy at confessions.

But about that first one…

It isn’t that I don’t enjoy time off. I do. Probably at a level that borders on unnatural. I like to travel. I’m an excellent sleeper. I can avoid housework with the best of men. If whipping through the TV channels were an Olympic event, I’d be the Michael Phelps of the remote control.

But I don’t like being away from my job, mostly because I have to do about two weeks worth of work to compensate for every week I’m off. Where’s the fun in that?

Still, I know that time off is not only necessary but crucial. Even the most Type AAAA personality needs to unplug.

This year, I actually took an entire week. The Family Stew was invited to spend time at a condo on Madiera Beach. I like to think that we’re smart enough collectively to agree whenever someone offers a week at the beach.

We packed the sunscreen and the beach towels and the fishing poles.

Did I bring the laptop? Yes, I did. Did the BlackBerry come along? Of course.

But I also packed did the treasured KitchenAid stand-up mixer I bought on sale a few years ago. And the Cuisinart ice cream maker I found at a garage sale. And my flat-top electric griddle. And the 9-quart Le Creuset French oven my wife gave me last year. And a giant stew pot.

A clear, plastic toolbox was converted for culinary use. I filled it with half of the contents of our gadget drawer. I emptied the spice closet and the giant box of kosher salt, too. I stopped by Target for a portable gas hibachi. And I tucked away half a library of cookbooks to peruse.

Why all the kitchen stuff?

Because I realized something when I was packing.

I love to cook. I’m not always successful and the results are often messy and of questionable gastronomic value but I love it nonetheless.

But usually the only time I cook is when I have to cook, which means that cooking comes too close to work.

In theory, vacation is for doing things you enjoy. I figured I should probably cook as much as possible. So that’s what I did.

I grilled salmon on the hibachi. Cooking down at ankle level on the condo balcony and using with makeshift utensils, the salmon filets nonetheless came out to a dusty rose perfection.

I made a key lime pie that, quite frankly, was so delicious and beautifully smooth, I was reluctant to slice and share.

Then there was the coffee ice cream with espresso, followed by a fresh batch of grapefruit sorbet. I drove all over the beaches in search of orgeat (almond) syrup to make that recipe.

I did hot dogs and hamburgers for nine people. I made breakfast on the griddle.

And, because I had not done so before, I spatchcocked a chicken on the grill, after being inspired by my friends The Culinary Sherpas. (Look up spatchcocking, if you’re unfamiliar. It’s worth the effort.)

And when it was all done, I felt like I had been on vacation because I cooked what I wanted when I wanted. Which was the idea in the first place. Better yet, I got to eat it. And now the appliances on my kitchen counter remind me not of weeknight rush-rush dinners but of that deeply satisfying cooking adventure.

I can’t wait for the next vacation. There’s some homemade sausage I’m dying to make.