Traverse Northern Michigan, April 2024

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WHAT A FARM COULD BE

In the countryside of Williamsburg, a family shares a vision of sustainable farming with their community.

BY MATTHEW DURSUM / PHOTOS BY BETH PRICE

Deep in the forests of the Upper Peninsula, Iliana Regan uses wildcrafted ingredients from the region’s woods and waters to create thoughtful dishes and an unforgettable experience at Milkweed Inn.

4.5 bathrooms

5 | EDITOR'S NOTE

7 | HOME & GARDEN

Five flavorful tomatoes that’ll transform your garden.

41 | CULINARY NORTH

The cheeseburger pizza at Papa J’s has everything you could ever want in a slice.

45 | SIP

The buzz around town.

46 | ON THE TABLE

This recipe for foraged ramp pesto will make your heart sing.

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48 | LOVE OF THE LAND

Elevate your next spring trek by tuning into your surroundings with the art of forest bathing.

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Cara McDonald

Elizabeth Edwards

Meagan Francis

Carly Simpson

Allison Jarrell Acosta

Rachel Soulliere

Stacey Brugeman

Caroline Dahlquist

Tim Hussey

Theresa Burau-Baehr

Rachel Watson

Julie Parker

Mike Alfaro

Ann Gatrell

Julie James

Meg Lau

Erin Lutke

Ashlyn Korienek

Nichole Earle

Kayla Kennedy

DREAMS OF FARMS AND FORAGING

by CARA MCDONALD

Ihaven’t had a proper garden in nearly 20 years. But in 2022, I bought an in-town bungalow in Traverse City sight unseen, and during the FaceTime walkthrough, I missed the two raised beds withering on the east side of the house.

The plots were a sweet surprise—overgrown, a layer of deep, stubborn turf on one and a wild infestation of peppermint on the other. The plan was to plant veggies and cut flowers.The roots were so embedded in the soil it took my son and I days of digging to clear them, stopping often to shake off the dirt and pick earthworms from the tangle.

The flower bed became a mix of sunflowers that languished in the shaded spot and a jungle of leggy dahlias that craned toward the sky. A few nasturtiums and some very enthusiastic marigolds patrolled the perimeter.

For the vegetable plot, I chose San Marzano, Sakura and Purple Cherokee tomatoes. There was an eggplant that grew a single bloom. Beautiful pattypan squash, which succumbed to powdery mildew. Cucumber, which caught it from the pattypans. The climbing vines of thumb-sized cucamelons. And flanking these, a row of stupendous, unstoppable arugula.

Despite poor soil and little sun, the dahlias and arugula grew into superstars. Each day I’d come out to a few more petals unfurled (sometimes containing the shudder-inducing surprise of sleeping earwigs), and crisp, fresh greens, regenerating as fast as I could snip them.

I couldn’t quit my weekly trip to the farmers market based on what I grew, but I couldn’t have loved it more. The nutty, peppery bite of a fresh arugula leaf brought unmatchable joy, yielding salads that even my teen boys would eat. And the dahlias? “Café Au Lait,” the size of dinner plates, were cut one by one, cradled like babies and taken to a jar on my kitchen windowsill.

This month’s issue traditionally celebrates our food scene, and the stories of renowned Chef Iliana Regan’s journey back to her foraging roots and the Wierema family’s dream farm are the stuff that will have you digging through the closet for your binoculars and old boots and shaking packets of seeds at the hardware store checkout. For us, they are also a love letter to the coming growing season, and with them, we wish you the satisfied chortle of pastured chickens, the scent of summer strawberries, the sweetness of beans fresh off the vine and the sound of bat wings in the purple dusk sky.

Cara McDonald, Executive Editor cara@mynorth.com

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Home & Garden

Few things in life are sweeter than the flavorful pop of a cherry tomato fresh off the vine. For variety and heirloom goodness, you can’t beat starting your own seedlings. Farmer Andrea Bushre of NanBop Farm shares the scoop on hard-to-find seeds for growing life-changing tomatoes.

Why now?

You’ll want to begin planting seedlings indoors in April so they’ll be developed enough to harden off and plant outside after the threat of frost.

What to plant

1. Sungold: “This is the sweetest cherry tomato you’ll find.”

2. Sakura: “A traditional red cherry but bred to have extreme disease resistance. I like this variety because it is a heavy producer and tastes wonderful.”

3. Black Cherry: “Unique flavor compared to traditional cherry tomato varieties. Yields great but tricky to harvest. Due to the natural coloration, it can be hard to tell when they’re ripe.”

4. Sunrise Bumble Bee: “Similar to a Sungold tomato but with really beautiful coloration that almost looks tie-dyed.”

5. Dancing with Smurfs: “Just for fun! A black and red cherry tomato that looks incredible.”

Where to Source Your Seeds

For most backyard gardeners, the varieties and seeds found at local nurseries and garden centers do just fine. For online shopping, Farmer Andrea recommends adaptiveseeds.com, natureandnurtureseeds.com, highmowingseeds.com and johnnyseeds.com.

Our resident farmer, Andrea Bushre, is the director of NanBop Farm in Cadillac—a biodiverse farm operation nestled in the acreage surrounding the 9&10 News station. Support local farming through our growing CSA program at nanbopfarm.com.

Andrea Bushre

Leah Renee Photography

Sunrise Bumble Bee

WHAT A FARM

COULD BE

IN THE COUNTRYSIDE OF WILLIAMSBURG, A FAMILY SHARES THEIR VISION OF SUSTAINABLE FARMING WITH THEIR COMMUNITY.

BY MATTHEW DURSUM PHOTOS BY BETH PRICE

THE SOUNDS OF CATTLE

BREAK THE STILLNESS

OF A SPRING NIGHT

Overhead, the aurora borealis dances in the sky and the faint yips of coyotes carry through distant fields. On this night, the Wierema family stands in their pasture, looking up to the sky after a long day working on the farm. Like they do at the end of most days, the family is feeling tired, but also lucky: They’ve created their dream life here, nestled in the quiet hills of Northern Michigan.

Up North Heritage Farm, run by Justin and Melissa Wierema with their children Lily and Gavin, produces grass-fed and pasture-raised livestock—cattle, pigs and chickens. The farm’s 42 acres are split by Tobeco Creek; when it floods, it creates a wetland filled with cattails and birds. To the north of the creek, the family’s beef cattle and Fiona, a dedicated dairy cow, make their home, grazing on tall grasses and resting according to their own schedule. To the west, Mangalitsa pigs forage and play in the shade of a five-acre apple orchard, and hens scurry around the property, consuming insects.

Most mornings at the farm begin with a hearty meal. Melissa sips coffee while the family enjoys breakfast sandwiches made with eggs and sausage from their animals, and then the kids get ready for school. “There’s that whole ‘farmers getting up at the crack of dawn’ stereotype, but we are the opposite of that,” Melissa laughs.

After the kids leave, Justin walks out to the milking station in the barn. While he brushes Fiona, her young calf waits in the distance, curiously gazing at them. With Fiona’s milk, the Wieremas make butter, cheese and ice cream for family and friends.

In the afternoon, Justin checks in on the cattle, unrolling a barrel of hay for them. He then heads to the orchard to make sure the pigs have enough bedding and food and that the fencing is secure.

W hile Justin tends to the animals, Melissa takes online orders and packs frozen meat for the 70-plus full-time members of their meat club. Steaks, pork chops, chicken breasts, ground beef, organ meat, sausages and seasonal specialties like chuck roasts and pork shoulders go out daily. Requests come in for personalized home deliveries including calls from private chefs. After school, Gavin runs an order of bacon over to the neighbor’s house and brings a stray chicken back home in the process. Another day on the farm and so much more work to be done.

Their younger selves probably wouldn’t have imagined taking this path. “We grew up on fast food and candies, sugar and ultra-processed foods, everything super-sized and cheap,” Justin says. “A lot of people, especially our parents’ generation, viewed meat as meat and they’d ask us, ‘What’s wrong with a two-dollar steak?’”

But in their mid-20s, the couple began to see things differently. “We got into environmentally friendly things— non-toxic, eco-friendly,” Melissa

explains. This interest eventually led them to shop at sustainable farms and connect with farmers who thought of food as a way to heal their bodies.

In 2011, while living in the western suburbs of Chicago, Justin and Melissa bought their first house, which sat on four acres. After the birth of their daughter that same year, the couple got their first chickens. They started with laying hens and, a year later, acquired meat birds, learning how to do their own slaughtering and butchering. The experience changed the family’s outlook on eating and brought them intimately close to their food and environment.

With their growing skills, the Wierema family felt a calling to leave the city and make farming a full-time venture. They scouted a few locations in Northern Michigan before buying the Williamsburg property in 2017. The animals came the next year, starting with three sows and a boar. They planned to raise the animals organically, soy-free and free-range and to sell to customers directly—but establishing a farm culture that would fit their location would require some in-depth research.

For example, instead of breeds like the furry, Instagram-worthy Highland cattle, they chose American Aberdeen, smaller Angus cattle that can live happily on 100 percent–grass diets and a rotational grazing system. And when it came time to add dogs to help protect their animals from predators like bobcats, coyotes and hawks that make regular appearances at the farm, they picked Great Pyrenees pups.

“They’re great with families, and I wanted more of a laid-back dog that can handle the weather,” Justin says. The family has two that patrol the farm—Yoda and Violet. Because of the dogs’

protective nature, the Wieremas don’t need to lock the chickens up at night. “We couldn’t do anything on this farm if it weren’t for our dogs,” Justin adds.

By far the most popular characters on the farm (and in the farm’s meat club shipments) are the Mangalitsa pigs. This Hungarian heritage breed is known for its wooly, sheep-like coat and exceptional meat. The pigs spend most days in the apple orchard, foraging for fallen fruit and tasty roots, rubbing against trees and socializing, as pigs do. Historically, Mangalitsa pigs were kept in apple orchards in Europe, and their thick coat makes them perfectly adapted to cold Michigan winters. A natural diet of foraged insects, fruits and grasses gives them rich-tasting dark meat that’s high in omega-3 fatty acids and other

nutrients. Many chefs and breeders market them as the “Kobe beef of pork.”

Though the retail price point of their products is often higher than you’ll find at the supermarket, the Wieremas justify those prices in two ways: cost and value. As happy as the animals are, raising them humanely and sustainably is costly. Organic and soy-free feed is more expensive than standard mixtures. “You have to consider how much it costs to produce meat,” Justin says. “Just to have a ham USDA processed is $2.50 per pound. So that five-pound ham requires more than $12 dollars in processing fees alone.”

But that expense is balanced out by their products’ true value. “You may pay more for meat from our farm, but it’s going to taste better—and it’s better for you,” Melissa says. Grass-fed beef, for example, contains more antioxidants and heart-healthy omega-3 fatty acids. She also points out that buying from local producers keeps money in the community, creating a positive economic cycle.

And while their products—and price points—may not be for everyone, Up North Heritage Farm has earned a loyal customer base made up of neighbors, community members, and businesses with similar values.

While the farm may seem like a romantic notion to some, living their dream has turned the Wieremas into realists. “Logistics, coordination, drop-offs; those would be my words of caution to anyone getting into farming. And you can never be gone for too long,” Justin says.

On top of managing a business, farmers are beholden to their animals—and weather is always a concern.

“Worrying about the weather is something we have to do. If the weather’s bad, Justin’s moving the huts or putting something on the top of them or angling them. During the last big storm, trees fell and we were worried about the animals running,” Melissa says.

W

hen a huge storm hit in 2021, heavy wind and rain caused trees to crash into the neighbor’s kitchen roof. Acres of sunflower fields nearby were flattened by the wind. At the farm, the family scrambled to get their animals to safety. Sadly, dozens of chickens were lost.

And one spring, a young sow had her first litter end in disaster. “She was walking around the pasture having babies, dropping them all over and not caring where they were,” Justin says. The family tried to save them by

WHEN YOU BUY FROM A LOCAL FARM, YOU TASTE THE LAND AND THE CARE PUT INTO AN ANIMAL’S LIFE. YOU WASTE LESS AND APPRECIATE MORE.

bringing them into the house and nursing them back to health with food, warmth and care. In the end, it wasn’t enough. “We lost all of them, one by one. We were all very attached and working so hard. It was brutal.”

Even without the tragedies of losing animals, farming can be overwhelming. From long hours of physical labor to the pressure to make sales, the job has inherent stressors. However, it also offers many benefits, like time spent with nature. “For Justin, being outside and with animals has been incredible. And our son just thrives on being outdoors. I think getting outside is the answer to many things,” Melissa says.

For the Wieremas, farming is more than just a livelihood—it’s their life,

with land and community at its core.

“People always ask, ‘Do you ship [your products]?’ And we say, ‘No. You should find a farm near you,’” Justin says. With this simple practice, consumers save on the cost of packaging, fossil fuels used for transportation and dry ice. Just as important, they develop a relationship with local farmers.

For people who choose to listen, food can tell a story. From a calf’s birth to saying goodbye on an animal’s last day, there’s a connection between a farmer and the creatures in their care. When you buy from a local farm, you taste the land and the care put into an animal’s life. You waste less and appreciate more. You keep your money within your community. In the end, you’re experiencing life in Northern Michigan, straight from the green-grass pastures.

Matt Dursum is a writer from Traverse City who currently lives in South America. Matt specializes in food, wine, travel and surfing. wayfarersoliloquy.com

Beth Price is an editorial and commercial photographer based in Northern Michigan. She’s passionate about capturing authentic human experiences that help achieve a greater appreciation for the natural world we live in. bethpricephotography.com

THE BIRDS AND THE BERRIES

by Iliana Regan

Deep

in the forests of the Upper Peninsula, Iliana Regan uses wildcrafted ingredients from the region’s woods and waters to create thoughtful dishes and an unforgettable experience at Milkweed Inn, a small bed and breakfast (and dinner) lodge. Regan, the former chef and founder of Elizabeth, a Michelin-starred restaurant in Chicago, and her wife, Anna Hamlin, welcome a dozen guests to gather each weekend for an off-the-grid getaway. Guests can stay in one of the cabin rooms, canvas wall tents or an Airstream trailer, and the rustic accommodations are accompanied by cuisine infused with from-the-woods authenticity: Regan forages for many of her menus’

ingredients herself, on and around the 150-acre property surrounded by the Hiawatha National Forest. It’s a place where evenings spent stargazing are followed by bourbon-glazed doughnuts and dandelion scones at breakfast. Days of kayaking and fly-fishing may end with foraged lobster mushrooms cooked in brown butter with blueberry molasses. And a meal of smoked Superior lake trout might be capped off with ice cream infused with bee pollen and local wildflower honey.

In Regan’s latest book, Fieldwork: A Forager’s Memoir, Regan shares moments from her childhood in Indiana and memories of foraging with her father alongside stories of life today and her return to her rural roots; trying to build a business, home and family in the U.P.

photos by Sara Stathas

Fieldwork: A Forager’s Memoir

by Iliana Regan

i like to tell people that story about the strawberries. You’d be surprised how many people don’t know why they’re called straw-berry. I guess it seems too obvious, like a trick question.

Sometimes when I made syrup from the wild strawberries around the cabin, I’d set some out in a little bowl on the post of our porch. I’d wait and it wouldn’t be long before the hummingbirds showed up. I spent a lot of the pandemic with my binoculars, appreciating what bird watchers did. I knew why Dad liked watching the birds— it wasn’t just waiting to die, like he’d once said retirement was all about—sitting in a chair, watching the birds, and waiting to die. The truth was watching birds was more like wanting to live.

And it was just so sudden, right after I picked what seemed like the last of the wild strawberries, that just like that—a quick snap or maybe it was as long as overnight while I tried to sleep—all the birds were gone. I sat on our porch, listening for them, but it was silent. When the jack pine warblers were here, they sang three to four notes every second, loudly protecting their territory. I loved the warblers. They were pretty birds. I woke up many mornings, or afternoons depending on how you looked at it, hearing their songs.

There were many birds out here. Cedar waxwings, which were lovely. Red-headed woodpeckers that poked the birch trees for weevils. If I was out early enough in the morning, plenty of birds were in the yard, eating the wild strawberries, the insects, the worms and so on. Our yard was a carpet of strawberries. It wasn’t good for us bug-wise, but I didn’t mow the lawn until strawberry season was over. I let the berries do what they needed to do so I could collect as many as possible. It takes time to collect many of them because they are so little. The birds would be there in the morning, hopping around like they do, going from plant to plant, picking at the berries, and I didn’t mind. I think the wild strawberries made them happy because day and night they sang. And then one day they were just gone.

One night I was on the porch alongside the cabin that wrapped around the north and east sides. At the farthest northeast corner, it opened to the sky. The space was approximately eight by eight feet. Sometimes at night I put down a blanket and pillow, lay down and watched everything: the Milky Way, meteor showers, constellations, shooting stars, the universe. I could see it all. There were many other sounds to appreciate. I listened to the crickets, bullfrogs and bats. The Sturgeon River trickled and I closed my eyes, seeing it go from west to east. Beavers and otters played along the banks at night. I heard their

splashing. In the mornings, when I went down to the river to fish, I found piles of freshwater mussel shells like the otters had been partying at a Belgian pub, moules frites for dinner. Also, at night came the sounds of the squirrels and chipmunks pitter-pattering over the pine needles and leaves covering the forest floor. There was the prancing of deer—forest horses are what I call them. There was the stalking of the wolves, not as stealthy as they thought. The scuttling of field mice, the buzz of mosquitoes and moths, and the occasional single-prop plane way above going to the nearest small airport. All of these sounds lulled me into a trance. My ears were like a dog’s, twitching. And because sometimes I was afraid, I tuned in further, making sure I knew every sound so that if something ever was out of the ordinary, I knew to be alert.

And on that evening while at the northeast corner of the porch, not long after the birds were gone, I called Anna to come listen. She came out and stood next to me in the dark. I held my finger to my lips—shhh, listen. She looked at me with an expression that said, what are we listening for? An owl called out. Anna’s eyebrows rose, asking, this? Soon after, the bats started up. She looked at me. Her eyebrows cramped. I looked at her with my eyes wide saying, what can I do about the bats?

At the river, things were louder than normal; we perked up as the leaves blew up on a swell of wind. Chipmunks and squirrels, red and black, went from tree to tree. If you watched long enough, you’d see some of the squirrels fly. A wood turtle toddled through the understory and I knew that sound. Even the delicate footprints of the foxes echoed. All these sounds were white noises out here, and I didn’t worry about them much unless it really crunched down, expressing weight, only if it was close, only if it was something I hadn’t heard before.

From our porch I looked through the trees using nightvision binoculars. That one time when I saw a pack of wolves, they’d passed right beneath me, and I didn’t need binoculars. The alpha wolf had acted as if he didn’t see me but I sure saw him. I knew he smelled me. He smelled my shih tzu, Clementine, who was in my lap. When I heard his footsteps, I set Clementine down and got up from where I sat drinking my coffee, and looked out. I watched him push his snout up into the air. His brown nose wiggled. I saw his colors of red, gray and white. He was so close I saw the muscles flex along the bridge of his snout as he took in rapid breaths. He moved on and several wolves followed him through the ferns, clubmoss and milkweed lining the yard.

Anna looked at me while I looked through the binoculars. I could feel her eyes on me and that maybe she was a

little disappointed in me. She seemed annoyed. She knew I loved this, but she didn’t love it as much. She said she did, but she didn’t. Anna was the kind of person who could be fine anywhere for the most part. I was not. I hoped our relationship wouldn’t become like Mom’s and Dad’s, at least not yet. Mom and Dad made it thirty-five years with a bunch of kids; we’d only been together five, and no kids, just dogs. We were still too new at this to be unhappy about the other’s happiness, and I felt we were too new not to try to love what the other loved.

A few minutes passed and other sounds started up, quieter sounds. It was amazing what you could hear when you tried. The moths kamikazed the citronella candle. Stuck in the hot wax, their wings sizzled against the flame. Hundreds of gnats and mosquitoes banged themselves against the naked Edison bulbs in the sconces on both sides of the glass doors on the porch. The bats echolocated us, awaiting our absence to swoop down and consume the thousands of flying insects they put away per night on average. The leaves went up again, sounding like waves. The wind ran through our hair. And there were so many sounds, but no birds. The bird songs were gone. Completely. My skin prickled with bumps at the eerie thought of it.

Fifty some yards down the hill, a large splash sounded from the river. I just knew it was a bear. This was the sound I was waiting for and the reason I had the binoculars over my eyes. This was the sound I wanted her to hear. I scanned back and forth, all of it dark and blurry. The sound was louder than the beavers and otters. I adjusted the binoculars again, and aside from the bright eyes of owls, I couldn’t get a clear view. I put my finger to my lips, imagining the sow standing near the edge of the river, crouched down as the water ran over her massive paws. She’d thrust them into the water, bringing up a brookie, the kind I would like to catch. Her claws dripped and the brookie’s gills rapidly opened and closed until ultimately the fish became stiff as she tore into it. While she did, along the riverbank, the chokecherry eyes of her two bear cubs glistened shiny as the ones dangling above their heads. The chokecherries down there were far enough away from the logging that they grew in abundance. The cubs sat upright on their hams, eager for dinner.

I saw a massive bear that day he set out the mash. I had gotten into the Jeep, driving down to a large, wild strawberry patch I had marked on my map. I liked to collect strawberries everywhere I could, not only from our yard. But I had to be careful—they were so delicate. I knew this from when I collected them with Dad all those years ago. I had to collect them in a way they wouldn’t smash one another. Sometimes, back in the city, guys sold strawberries like these to restaurants for forty dollars a pint. Half the time they were from Southern France or somewhere else far away and it made sense that they were so expensive. Here and now though, they were everywhere, right beneath my boots. I had to be careful where I stepped. I got on my hands and knees, crawling, and gathered them. I didn’t worry about anyone think-

THE BIRDS WOULD BE THERE IN THE MORNING, HOPPING AROUND LIKE THEY DO, GOING FROM PLANT TO PLANT, PICKING AT THE BERRIES, AND I DIDN’T MIND.

Hearing the splash, Anna’s eyes opened wide. I was happy she heard it. We listened, excited now, together. It must be a bear. I was certain. I hadn’t seen one in a while, not since our neighbor had set out piles of corn and molasses mash around his camp. He said it was for the deer, but it seemed more like a trap for bears. I can’t say for certain.

ing I looked strange. There was no one here. No wolves or bears bothered me. I wasn’t afraid either. When I was foraging lots of my fears went away.

Ticks, though. Ticks I could not escape. I wore all white from head to toe. I tucked the hem of my white jeans into my white socks and wore white shoes, and after I was out of the brush, they were easy to spot and pick from my clothing.

Most of the time I made vinegar from the wild strawberries here. I mashed them up with raw honey and poured our well water over them in a jar, then covered the jar with cheesecloth and let it sit at room temperature for a couple

THE BEAR

of weeks. The berries would fizzle, coming up to the top of the mixture, and then fall back down again. That’s when I checked the liquid at the top to see how acidic it was. I used a small, clean spoon to taste it. If it was tart, then I’d strain the berries and bottle the liquid, again with cheesecloth over the top, and let it age. Over time at room temperature the concoction evaporated and became concentrated. Eventually I’d store it and use it later over greens, vegetables and proteins. Because I cooked for only a small number of people each weekend, my concoctions could last for years, developing flavor all the while.

MUST HAVE HEARD MY ENGINE AND BECOMING FRIGHTENED, DARTED ACROSS THE PATH. I BELIEVED HE MIGHT HAVE BEEN THE FATHER OF THOSE SAME CUBS WHO WERE AT THE RIVER.

Making vinegar is something else I learned from Dad. It was a nice way to preserve the berries. Otherwise, they didn’t last long, and it was hard to use them unless I picked them just as I was about to serve them. Without a team of people to help, this was a hard thing to do, but I still did it sometimes. Right before the strawberry course we’d sometimes serve our guests, I’d run out to the yard and collect as many as I could. I’d place them fresh over a soft homemade cheese with a sauce of wood sorrel and pine. There’s nothing better than a sun-warmed, fresh, wild berry.

Other times, I fermented them in one percent salt by weight and used the salty-sweet liquid as a seasoning. The salty berries left over I dried and pulverized to a powder that I used to season homemade butter or other things. Sometimes I just held them in a simple syrup (one part sugar to one part water) and allowed them to do what they do. That was the syrup I’d use for the hummingbirds.

And it was that time, when I went to collect them at the patch down the road, that I saw the massive bear. I crossed over the hill separating our land and our neighbor’s, not far from where he left the corn molasses mash. The bear must have heard my engine and becoming frightened, darted across the path. I believed he might have been the father of

those same cubs who were at the river. I assumed he was a male because he was so massive.

Majestically, he galloped on all fours, the muscles rippling under his fur. His snout was brown, fading to tan near his eyes, but the rest of him was blacker than anything I’d seen before. He was such a deep black he was also silver, blue and purple in the bit of sun that was coming through the trees. “Holy shit,” I said out loud. I’d never seen something so beautiful.

Later, when I returned with several pints of the tiny, ruby-colored strawberries, I told Anna about the bear. Instead of sharing the excitement I’d felt, she felt fear at the thought of the bear being so close. She wanted me to ask the neighbor to move the mash farther away, because that same night we had the dogs in the yard, and we heard the bears fighting. We assumed the noise must have been from them fighting because we heard loud growling and thrashing. We ushered the dogs inside and for the rest of the evening they wouldn’t stop barking.

Around midnight Anna was fed up. She wanted me to do something about it. I wasn’t sure what to do. What would Dad do? I loaded a full round of bullets into Dad’s cowboy gun, took it outside and released the safety. From the porch I fired it to the southeast, well above the tree line in an attempt to scare the bears away. I felt terrible doing it. My eardrums rang. Later that week I got an ear infection in my left ear.

Chef Iliana Lane Regan is the owner of Milkweed Inn and author of two memoirs—Burn the Place and Fieldwork.

Sara Stathas is a commercial and editorial photographer based in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

“Window walls and white oak floors deliver that sense of calm the family craves.”

house and home

GOOD ENERGY

A DARK AND DATED RANCH GIVES WAY TO AN AIRY AND MODERN HOME WHERE THE WATERFRONT VIEWS TAKE CENTER STAGE.

By LUCINDA HAHN

Photos by JACQUELINE SOUTHBY

When the pandemic prompted Tim Hibbard and Susan Masserang to ditch San Francisco for a more relaxed life in Michigan, their summer home on Elk Lake waited with open arms. The oak-strewn site felt like terra firma—solid ground to grow old on.

They’d enjoyed the home for years, and Masserang, who grew up in Elk Rapids, had family nearby. But aesthetically, the squat, 1960s-era ranch was a quantum leap backward from the California-contemporary, architect-designed bungalow they’d left behind. It

also came with a leaky basement, rotting timbers and windows that needed to be replaced. What’s more, their two sons, now teenagers, had outgrown the small second bedroom. And the dining room had a wall that blocked views over the backyard and Elk Lake. (“Why, just, why?” architecturally minded Hibbard would find himself grumping during mealtimes.)

The to-do list went on and on. “It was like, do we try to fix it all? Or just open up the design and rethink it?” Hibbard says. “We realized that we needed to make it the house we wanted it to be.”

Enter Ray Kendra, principal architect at Traverse City–based Environment Architects, a firm with a design-forward point-of-view that the couple shared. The trio agreed that the existing home would be demolished; using the original foundation, they would build something with the clean lines and open, airy spaces that modern homes are known for. “We wanted it to feel very calm,” Masserang explains. Also on the wish list: a separate guesthouse/office for Hibbard, who works from home as a mechanical engineer.

To create the guest/office space, the team had to work within local zoning

Open or closed, the glass walls allow for stunning views from the kitchen and dining area, straight through the seasons room to the oak trees, lawn and lake. And in summer, when all the doors are open, “You can basically enjoy outdoor living all the way back at the kitchen sink,” Kendra says.

On sunny days, the walkway’s solar panels—plus those on the guesthouse roof—make more energy than they use and return the excess back to the grid. “That’s important to us,” says Masserang. “Part of why we love being here is the nature and the lakes, and we want to do all we can to be good stewards of those resources.”

regulations, which dictated that any new structures had to be attached to the home. So, Kendra came up with a creative solution: a walkway, built using free-span steel beams topped by a roof made of solar panels, that connects the house to the guesthouse. Now, Hibbard repairs each day to his separate office, which doubles as a guest bedroom thanks to a folding wall that hides a bed.

That was just the beginning of turning a very average Michigan ranch into a modern gem. Hibbard envisioned a sort of “glass box” on the lake side of the house, and he used his engineering background to work closely with Kendra and the builders, creating what they now call the “seasons room.” Its front and back walls are made of vast sliding doors that can be opened or left shut.

Next up: A second floor was added for the boys’ bedrooms. Kendra put the new story over only part of the house to keep the facade from appearing too imposing, which would be out of place among the small-ish homes of the neighborhood. This also had the advantage of allowing a higher ceiling in the kitchen/dining room, where Kendra added a long, horizontal clerestory window. “It picks up the beauty of the trees and leaves, and becomes like a piece of art.”

Allowing nature in, plus the use of consistent materials throughout— white oak floors, custom cabinetry with low-profile hardware—deliver that sense of calm the family craved. “We’ve had people come in and remark, ‘Wow, this house has really good energy,’” Kendra says. “It’s nice that others feel that, not just us.”

Top priority, of course: The water views needed to be maximized. “We wanted to see the lake all the time, and celebrate it,” Masserang says.

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THE BIRDHOUSE COTTAGE

AN ORLANDO COUPLE DISCOVERS THE WONDER OF NORTHERN MICHIGAN—AND RENOVATES THEIR NEW HOME TO REFLECT THEIR LOVE FOR IT.

By ELIZABETH EDWARDS

Floridians Jill and Dean Bosco are the first to tell you that, unlike so many other folks who have second homes here, they had absolutely no ties to Michigan before they sent their children to camp here—and subsequently bought a cottage in Glen Arbor at The Homestead. The couple, looking to give their kids a broader summer experience than they could get in the South, found a camp here, and decided to give it a try. As it turned out, their son and daughter both fell in love with the camp—and Jill and

Photos by ANGELA DEWITT

Design | Build | Remodel

2911 N Garfield Rd, Traverse City, MI 49686

www.FerraroGroup.net

(231) 714-4080 • build@ferrarogroup.net

www.FerraroGroup.net

(231) 714-4080 • build@ferrarogroup.net

env-arch.com

231.946.1234 env-arch.com

REMODELS

NEW BUILDS

CUSTOM KITCHEN/BATH COUNTER TOPS

CABINETRY

MATERIAL AND FURNISHING SELECTIONS en•vi•ron•ment noun

• 1. the surroundings or conditions in which a person, animal, or plant lives or operates.

231.357.4820

Below: The soft blue/green tones of the Benjamin Moore color Lookout Point set the backdrop for the coastal feel in the living room. Van Nort had the original black granite fireplace mantel replacd with a creamy white mantel and beach-stone face. “Our deck has the most spectacular view I think I’ve ever seen,” Dean says. “And to know that I’m seeing it in our home with a glass of wine or playing my guitar and just watching the sun go down—it’s pretty amazing.”

Dean fell in love with Northern Michigan. “We ended up renting a place at The Homestead,” Jill says, “and we both said, ‘This is the most beautiful place that we have ever seen.’”

The Boscos loved the Glen Arbor resort so much they decided to try it in winter and found they were as enamored with the off-season as they were with summers. When the cottage next door to their rental went up for sale, they purchased it.

The couple’s original thought was to rent out the cottage for most of the year until they had more time to spend Up North. But once they spent a little time there, they did a sharp pivot. “We said, ‘Nope, we love it out here. We’re not renting it,’” recalls

Dean. That decision shifted their design priorities from doing enough to the cottage—built and last updated in 2000—to please renters, to completely re-doing it to make it their own. “And that’s kind of when Pandora’s box opens,” Dean says.

The couple hired Glen Arbor designer Karen Van Nort to oversee a complete refresh of the cottage. “We probably wouldn’t have done as much as we did without our relationship with Karen,” Jill says. “Karen understood our style—and along the journey she became someone very special to us.”

The result is a home with a modern coastal feel that plays up the views of Lake Michigan over the treetops— and the birds that call those treetops home. “I feel like it’s our real-life birdhouse,” Jill says. “We set out our bird feeders, and now we are a runway for the birds. It is by far my favorite part of the cottage. It’s just a total joy.”

Above: The only structural change in the entire re-do was to the primary bath, where a former half-wall made it largely open to the room. The shell tiles are Fan Club in blue by Artistic Tile. Van Nort designed the mirror so it can be removed when not in use to open up a view of the birds.

Below: “The white swivel chair in the primary bedroom is my favorite place,” Jill says. “The chair is next to the hologram fireplace that puts out a crackling noise. I sit there and I read or needlepoint and look at the view.”

When planning a new home construction project, it’s important to choose the right lending partner. GreenStone’s financing process is designed to support your project from blueprints to closing. We custom build each loan, offering both do-it-yourself and fully-contracted options. To get started on your future home, contact your local GreenStone team today. 800-444-3276

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T he Cu l i Nortnary h

local restaurants . craft drinks . seasonal cuisine

Foraged ramps are the hard-fought prize we’ve earned after a long, gray winter.

—CULINARY COLUMNIST STACEY BRUGEMAN

photo by Dave Weidner

ION MY HONOR

by CARLY SIMPSON

The cheeseburger pizza at Papa J’s is a must-try.

'll admit, I was skeptical of pickles on pizza, but I was wrong. They belong.

Those crisp little dills play nicely with juicy tomatoes, red onion, ground beef, bacon bits, a cheesy mozzarella-cheddar combo and tangy Thousand Island dressing. It’s sweet, savory, sour—everything you didn’t know you wanted in a slice. And the crust: soft and chewy with a just-crisp exterior (no soggy bottoms here).

Just as delicious is Papa J’s retro-inspired interior. There are the requisite red-and-white diner booths and black-and-white checkered floor. The turquoise walls, lined with neon lights, are filled with memorabilia—The Beatles’ “White” album, movie posters, vintage board games, Benzie County senior class photos. On the way out, you’ll pass vending machines stocked with gotta-have gumballs and glitter rings. It’s nostalgic noshing at its finest.

More Menu Standouts: The fried chicken, Reuben, pot roast with mashed potatoes and the chocolate milkshake (the small is shareable).

Papa J’s Pizzeria

10583 Main St., Honor 231.325.7070

18557 Maple St., Lake Ann 231.275.7007

photos by Dave Weidner

Dreaming up the ideal retirement is your job

Helping you get there is ours

Dreaming up the ideal retirement is your job

It’s simple, really. How well you retire depends on how well you plan today. Whether retirement is down the road or just around the corner, if you’re working toward your goals now, you’ll have a better chance of achieving them later.

Dreaming up the ideal retirement is your job

Dreaming up the ideal retirement is your job

It’s simple, really. How well you retire depends on how well you plan today. Whether retirement is down the road or just around the corner, if you’re working toward your goals now, you’ll have a better chance of achieving them later.

Helping you get there is ours

Helping you get there is ours

Preparing for retirement means taking a long-term perspective. At Edward Jones, we spend time getting to know your retirement goals so we can help you reach them.

It’s simple, really. How well you retire depends on how well you plan today. Whether retirement is down the road or just around the corner, if you’re working toward your goals now, you’ll have a better chance of achieving them later.

Preparing for retirement means taking a long-term perspective. At Edward Jones, we spend time getting to know your retirement goals so we can help you reach them.

It’s simple, really. How well you retire depends on how well you plan today. Whether retirement is down the road or just around the corner, if you’re working toward your goals now, you’ll have a better chance of achieving them later.

It’s simple, really. How well you retire depends on how well you plan today. Whether retirement is down the road or just around the corner, if you’re working toward your goals now, you’ll have a better chance of achieving them later.

simple, really. How well you retire depends on how well you plan today. Whether retirement is down the road or just the corner, if you’re working toward your goals now, you’ll have a better chance of achieving them later. for retirement means taking a long-term perspective. At Edward Jones, we spend time getting to know your retirement goals so we can help you reach them. more about why Edward Jones makes sense for you, call or visit today.

To learn more about why Edward Jones makes sense for you, call or visit today.

Preparing for retirement means taking a long-term perspective. At Edward Jones, we spend time getting to know your retirement goals so we can help you reach them.

Preparing for retirement means taking a long-term perspective. At Edward Jones, we spend time getting to know your retirement goals so we can help you reach them.

Preparing for retirement means taking a long-term perspective. At Edward Jones, we spend time getting to know your retirement goals so we can help you reach them.

To learn more about why Edward Jones makes sense for you, call or visit today.

John

To learn more about why Edward Jones makes sense for you, call or visit today.

Helping you get there is ours John

John W Elwell, AAMS™ Financial Advisor

To learn more about why Edward Jones makes sense for you, call or visit today.

To learn more about why Edward Jones makes sense for you, call or visit today.

John

John W Elwell, AAMS™ Financial Advisor

John

THE BUZZ AROUND TOWN

A taste of the North's craft beverage scene.

NORTH PEAK’S BREWING A BLACK IPA

Head Brewer Brian Richards is especially excited about this IPA style that “sort of fell to the wayside” with the popularity of its hazier counterpart. “A Black IPA has all those typical big hop flavors that you would expect, and it’s also going to have a subtle roast characteristic to it,” Richards says. “I use flaked barley to smooth out the flavor profile a little bit and give it extra body—it’s a really enjoyable beer to sip on.” The family-friendly brewery and restaurant in Traverse City also makes its own root beer for kiddos. A few food menu highlights: white cheddar ale soup, wild mushroom pizza and the pretzel-crusted chicken sandwich. pub.northpeak.net

PENINSULA CELLARS’ CIDER SIX-PACKS

Kick back with a hard-cider sampler at Peninsula Cellar’s tasting room in a historic one-room schoolhouse (complete with chalkboard and vintage desk). The Old Mission winery infuses its ciders with fresh strawberries and raspberries, a splash of pineapple, cherries and habaneros—the menu has something for everyone. Our fave: Gold Rush is aged in bourbon barrels and sweetened with local maple syrup. Director of Operations Caitlin Hammond tells us the winery has expanded its cider line, including canning. Cans are available for purchase in the tasting room (with mix-and-match six-packs) and can also be shipped. peninsulacellars.com

Get Your Michigan Brewvine Passport

An easy-to-use mobile passport packed with deals and specials at your favorite Michigan breweries, wineries, cideries and distilleries mibrewvine.com

photo by Allison Jarrell Acosta

IWILD THING

by STACEY BRUGEMAN

This recipe for foraged ramp pesto will make your heart sing.

’m nervous to admit this, but I once asked myself if ramps were overrated. Did I just say that out loud? Every spring, ramps become such a menu and media darling that, one year, I couldn’t help but wonder if we all love them so much simply because they are the first edible plant that is brave enough to emerge from the still snow-patched woods. Do we flock toward them because they are the only thing to flock toward this early in the season?

That same spring, I wiggled my way into my rain boots anyway, side-stepping down the wet, slippery slope of our ravine. Motivated by some potent combination of principle and obligation, I foraged a small basketful and brought them back to our mudroom sink, where I rinsed bits of dark Midwestern soil off the blush pink stems. As my paring knife sliced into that first ramp, the fresh cut released its notorious aroma—equal parts onion, garlic and earth, all far more potent than whatever core values took me to the woods in the first place. In that single pungent breath, I was assured that this is no overrated allium. Quite to the contrary, foraged ramps are the hard-fought prize we’ve earned after a long, gray winter.

This spring, give these wild treasures the glory they deserve by making ramp pesto with Michigan black walnuts. Ramp pesto can be served inside ravioli, twirled around tagliatelle, used as a spread for sandwiches, smeared across a plate underneath roasted potatoes and more. My firstborn—as wild as ramps himself—has been known to devour this recipe straight from the jar, spoon to mouth. Don’t make me rate hugging him goodnight after such a choice.

Stacey Brugeman is a 20-year food and beverage journalist. Her work has appeared in Food & Wine, Saveur, Travel + Leisure, Eater, Midwest Living and on Instagram @staceybrugeman.

Dave Weidner is an editorial photographer and videographer based in Northern Michigan. Follow him on Instagram and Facebook @dzwphoto.

Sarah Peschel, @22speschel, is a stylist and photographer with an appreciation for all things local agriculture, food and drink.

Ramp Pesto with Black Walnuts

Makes 2 heaping cups

8 ounces washed ramps

½ cup chopped black walnuts

1 cup olive oil

½ cup shredded Parmigiano Reggiano

Juice from half a lemon, about 2 Tablespoons

¾ teaspoon salt freshly ground black pepper

1. Roughly chop the ramp stems and leaves, and set aside.

2. Warm a dry, cast-iron skillet over medium heat. When it is hot but not yet smoking, add the black walnuts. Shake the pan from time to time, toasting the walnuts until they are golden brown and fragrant, about 2 minutes.

3. Working in batches, add the chopped ramps and olive oil to a food processor, pulsing until just combined. Once the ramps and olive oil are incorporated, add the walnuts, cheese, lemon juice and salt, whizzing the mixture for 1 minute, until it is a consistency that hovers between a schmear and a drizzle. Season with a few grindings of freshly cracked black pepper to taste.– S.B.

Your local source for carefully curated perennials, trees, and shrubs.

7740 N. Swede Road Northport, MI 49670

(231) 944-6663

www.peninsulaperennials.com

European Style Cafe

Serving both indoors and on our patio, and featuring dinner, beer,wine and cocktai

Prix Fixe Dinner Special 5:00-6:00 pm • $29 Details on our website:

The Red House in Downtown Suttons Bay Call for reservations: 231.271.2344 marthasleelanautable.com

TRUE NORTH TRAIL TOWN

St. Ignace – Gateway to the true north of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and a designated Pure Michigan Trail Town. Make St. Ignace your home base and explore miles of multi-use trails, enjoy affordable lodgings and experience our famous small town charm. Plan your getaway today.

1.800.338.6660 stignace.com

Your home port with small town charm.

Love of the Land

get there

FOREST BATHING

You’ve likely hiked one of the North’s many wildflower trails, like the one pictured here in Pete’s Woods at Arcadia Dunes. But this spring, in honor of Earth Day, we suggest slowing it down, and elevating your next trek by really tuning into your surroundings with the art of forest bathing. Known originally as shinrin-yoku, forest bathing was first coined in Japan in the ’80s, and translates to “being in the atmosphere of the forest.” The idea is to consciously immerse yourself in the sights, sounds and smells of nature, and that sensory engagement will result in a therapeutic, relaxing experience. I was recently introduced to the concept by Julie Den Uyl, an outdoor educator and founder of Sleeping Bear Tour Co., which offers guided forest-bathing excursions. She’s a passionate advocate and says it’s a practice that “transcends location and invites everyone to find solace wherever they may roam.” – A.J.A

photo by Allison Jarrell Acosta

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Make a smart investment in your future at Michigan’s flagship technological university.

Tomorrow needs new solutions and agile thinkers. It needs champions of the unknown. The ability to anticipate tomorrow’s challenges— and tackle them head-on with skill and precision—makes Tech graduates highly desired by employers year after year. More than 400 companies in a wide range of industries recruit on campus annually, and Huskies go on to receive some of the highest early career salaries in the nation. Earn a degree that pays you back, only at Michigan Tech.

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#1 in the nation with a median early career pay of $71,100

SWADDLED IN CARE

The Family Birthplace at McLaren Northern Michigan offers a full-service birthing experience. Our unit offers OB triage, labor, delivery, mother-baby, and nursery care 24 hours a day. We have a dedicated team of skilled nurses, obstetricians, pediatricians, and lactation support available to meet your needs and provide a unique birthing experience.

Whether you come with a birth plan, a doula, or your family support system, we are here to provide personalized education, physical and emotional support. Come explore our spacious labor rooms with jacuzzi tubs and the bay views from our post-partum rooms. Ask about our Nitrous Oxide options!

If you are interested in learning more, call to schedule a unit tour: (888) 248-6777.

mclaren.org/northernob