DEPARTMENTS

9 | EDITOR'S NOTE

11 | UP NORTH

MI Farm Co-op is transforming the North’s farm-to-table economy; a new book captures the beauty and power of Lake Michigan; a U.P. company makes an appearance in the NCAA’s Final Four tourney.

16 | TRAVEL

Are RVs the new family cottage? Whether it’s a vacation, work-cation or staycation, RV life is full of charm.

18 | OUTDOORS

Each spring, an unassuming, plump little shorebird dances across the North’s skies in search of a mate. Don’t miss the impressive display.

45 | CULINARY NORTH

Tucked away in the Long Lake Culinary Campus, this new sushi spot still feels like a hidden gem— but it won’t be a secret for long. Plus, The Bread Lady’s looninspired sugar cookies are calling.

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50 | ON THE TABLE

Give jammy eggs the royal treatment they deserve with smoked fish and a tonnato-inspired mayonnaise.

52 | LOVE OF THE LAND

Early ephemeral flowers are the true harbingers of spring.

It’s a simple but effective way of helping people reach their financial goals - and it’s a way of doing business that Raymond James has pioneered for more than 50 years. Make your voice count. Partner with one of our financial advisors and get guidance that’s in tune with your life. LIFE WELL PLANNED.

Jeff K. Pasche, CFA® Senior Vice President, Investments Traverse City Complex Manager

Susan G. Carlyon, WMS Senior Vice President, Investments Wealth Management Specialist®

James Spencer, ChFC®, AAMS® Financial Advisor

Jim Stoops, AWMA®, CRPC® First Vice President, Investments

Jennifer Youker, CFP®, CRPC® Financial Advisor

Maggie Beeler, AAMS®, CRPC® Investment Portfolio Associate

Shelley A. Stefanits Complex Administrator Manager West Michigan Complex

Courtney C. Jackson Complex Business Coordinator

Barbara S. Shellman, MBA, APMA™ Accredited Portfolio Management Advisor™ Financial Advisor

Susan Stepka Client Service Associate

HENRY LEWIS, JONATHAN SAYER, & HENRY SHIELDS

When i think of hospitality perfected, I think of a cool May night in Glen Arbor nearly 20 years ago, when dusk was settling across Sleeping Bear Bay. A friend and I were sitting with Senior Editor Lissa Edwards in her hippy-dippy wood-fired backyard hot tub, drinking wine and passing a floating aluminum bowl piled with sizzling hot pan-fried morels. Sip, grab, crunch, float to your neighbor, repeat. As the steam rose up to the stars, I thought, not only is this heaven; this is what it means to fully enjoy life and the people in it.

The morels in question (and there were heaps, just bags of them) had been foraged, with help from his parents, by the young Keef Edwards—a precocious, scrap-tacular little boy with button eyes and absolutely no inside voice. Even then, when he wasn’t charming the ladies or tormenting his older sisters, he was all for rambling, rooting, collecting, fishing or picking over fresh road kill.

He comes by his skills from an amazing childhood where he was loved hard and indulged in his passion for the outdoors at every opportunity. But I can’t discount the genes and role modeling he got from his mom—the hospitality baked into her Ukrainian DNA, which means guests are treated like royalty and a seat at the family table is a show of love and trust.

There’s never been a time at Lissa’s house when I wasn’t pulled by the arm to come in and sit down for a bowl of freshly picked cherries, a glass of local white, a bluegill fish fry, an ice cream cone in lieu of dinner or even just a fresh pot of coffee—which seemed to be everpresent, even on endless summer evenings as sunset stretched into midnight.

She’s always been an inspiration to me; her laidback, come-as-you-are, the-more-the-merrier ethos—one I struggled to emulate in my younger years. I was more selfconscious about having people over or returning invitations, feeling self-induced pressure to reciprocate or dazzle my guests and yet not really having the knack for it. I marveled at friends who could whip up pad Thai for eight while they chatted and sipped a beer. I always seemed to underestimate the amount of time or food needed. Once I prepared for a weekend visit from European friends, and felt so proud that I’d cooked up soup, smoked sausage and roasted a turkey tenderloin in advance. And was pleased and then slowly, mildly horrified as they sat down and ate it all in one sitting the night they arrived. My god, what would we eat the next day? (Spoiler alert: We went out for subs.)

Then there’s the Christmas when I put a lasagna out on the deck to cool and the neighbor’s dog ate it. Or another Christmas when, instead of crashing for a nap with my exhausted toddlers, I roasted, crushed and peeled hazelnuts to make chocolate ganache tartlets that, get this, NOBODY ATE BUT ME.