By Lindsay J. Westley. Published July 18, 2013 in the Washington Post.
A mid-ride beep from my neon-colored GPS watch usually signals a moment of weakness: a stop for a gulp of water or to rest quivering calves after climbing one of Vermont’s many mountains. Today, as I wheel my bike around the potholes in a farm lane, it’s signaling a more important item on the agenda: maple creemees.
The rest of the country calls the frozen treat twisting into my cone “soft serve,” but here in Vermont, it’s a creemee. Made with farm-fresh milk and a high grade of real maple syrup, it’s a delicious start to the weekend — and the official guarantee that no cycling speed records will be broken over the next two days. But we will eat well. And often.
After all, we have the home-court advantage on this vacation. My husband and I have been living on the southernmost tip of Vermont’s Lake Champlain Islands for nearly two years, having moved here from Pennsylvania as newlyweds.