In the summer of 2006, ten friends living in the Philadelphia area decided to spend their upcoming winter vacation together. The five couples – all empty nesters -- rented an off-season house on the Outer Banks of North Carolina for the week between Christmas and New Year's Eve.   Some of us weren't used to vacations where there is little to do, but we all had a terrific time.

     The house was a fine choice: Located close to the northern end of the island, it was a nine-bedroom contemporary on the beach, affording each couple an ocean-view master bedroom with private bath. (We drew lots to determine who'd get which room; thankfully, we got the one with the handicap toilet rail – a boon to my weak knees -- or I would have groused.)   The communal living space was equally attractive. There were two dining room tables that easily sat ten, but we consigned one table to house our jigsaw puzzles – I told you we vegged out – and the other for eating.  The kitchen was impressive, too, with two dishwashers and trash areas, and a small refrigerator just for wine (in addition to three other fridges in the house).  The cupboard was stocked with plenty of cookware and dishes, including lots of wine glasses.  And I wish I had the house's spacious pantry in our own home kitchen.  We still managed to fill it, though, since we'd brought a plethora of supplies (including an ice cream machine, at least six different flavors of vinegar, various kinds of salts, and more than $300 worth of imported cheeses).  Since there were several oenophiles in our group, each couple was told to bring at least six bottles of wine.  (Only my husband, Larry, however, was daring enough – or should I say unsophisticated enough – to bring a box of wine.  At least it didn't have a twist-off cap.)  And, of course, there was plenty of beer, liquor, and bottled water.   In fact, by the end of our stay, we lined up close to 40 empties in order to take pictures.   

     One of the great aspects about our communal living arrangements was that we didn't have to assign anyone tasks.  Of course, it wasn't like overnight camp, where someone in authority checks to make sure our beds are neatly made, and a makeshift chart with a spinning wheel on it designates who's sweeping and who's cleaning the johns.   Nevertheless, our group boasted several superb cooks who created a daily series of gastronomic delights while the rest of us cleaned up.  In fact, one of us (who shall remain nameless, right, Nick…) is very proud of his keen cleaning skills, as well as his seemingly innate ability to load the dishwasher to maximize space.  As you'd expect, each of us has certain food taboos, yet there were no disagreements between the semi-vegetarians and the carnivores.  As an illustration of just how sympatico we were, one day three people showed up in almost identical tops (blue and white stripes, like the ones French sailors are known for). 

     While it seemed as though we spent almost all our time preparing food and eating it, we actually did more.  For instance, it was warm enough to take long walks on the beach, and we were able to see wild horses on the dunes and dolphins frolicking in the ocean. One of us even brought a bicycle and rode up and down the island.  Also, we all brought books and checked our e-mail regularly, thanks to the house having wireless Internet access.  And as the resident cinephile, I provided a different DVD for viewing each night, ranging from the raunchy (The Aristocrats – not a Merchant-Ivory vehicle despite the name) and the sweetly comic (The Freshman) to a thriller (The Dancer Upstairs) and a Holocaust story (Gloomy Sunday). A sore point was how hard it was to figure out the DVD-VCR equipment, but Nick, in addition to being a clean freak, is also a computer geek who was able to solve the problems.  One of us also brought a portable I-Pod station, and three people took turns playing their music, although we do have divergent musical tastes.  In fact, we had a lively discussion about the worst pop song ever recorded.   (We consulted the Internet, but since it's a matter of taste, there was no firm consensus.  Let's just say that "Honey," "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald," and " MacArthur Park" head the list, both in our group and on line.)  Finally, rumor has it that one of us went swimming, although I didn't actually get a chance to see him decked out in his bathing suit.

     Back to the food: Despite the fact  that we'd packed our cars on the way down with a panoply of foodstuffs,  we still made almost daily forays to the local market, Harris Teeter, a surprisingly well-stocked emporium, given its backwater location.  We made occasional visits to the town of Duck, about 20 minutes south, as well, since there's a a decent coffee shop and an art gallery there.  There was also a shoe store just a stone's throw away where some of us made purchases.  (I personally managed to spend money via Internet purchases, including spice rubs for meat, poultry and vegetables that feature chocolate.  You, too, can get them at: http://www.diva-chocolates.com/rubs.html.)   

    For photos from the trip, go here.

    For recipes employed, go to sweet (desserts) or savory (all others).