Every summer, Matt's family spends a week on Lake Michigan. We're talking not only immediate family-- his twin brother and his mom and his nieces and whatnot-- but also extended family; his mom is one of eight siblings, so the amount of cousins he has between the ages of twenty and forty are beyond count, at least for me. In true midwest fashion, they are the most endearing, accommodating family I have ever encountered, and I look forward to this annual trip immensely throughout the year.


One of Matt's cousins, Andy, is around our age and is due to be wed to his high school sweetheart, Sarah, in the fall. I remember the first time I "got to go" to Michigan. It is a pretty big deal to bring along a significant other to this weeklong retreat, and rightfully so; this is a vacation all about family, and most families don't experience turnover nearly as quickly as many teen and twenty-something's relationships. To bring someone to Michigan, you have to be sure. Of the cousins who weren't married, it seemed only Matt and Andy were sure enough. I remember waiting for Sarah's arrival anxiously. I'd met her at a family wedding earlier in the year, and she was the only other "girlfriend" that was coming. I didn't realize at the time, Sarah had been on the scene for nearly ten years, but I could definitely tell she was not going anywhere. The way she rolled her eyes at Andy from across a deck of crowded people, or the way they both started laughing before the sentence was even complete; it was so obvious they were meant for each other. They seemed content in a way that can probably only come from knowing someone, and loving someone, for a good portion of your life. It made makes me smile.

Every year in Michigan, Sarah makes these grapes that have been a tradition in her family for years. She usually enlists her soon-to-be-niece for assistance, and a a bunch of the girls all stand around the kitchen one afternoon, smashing peanuts with a hammer and drinking frozen margaritas and laughing about anything and everything.

Known often as her surname, Sarah's treat has become known as Izzo Grapes to all of us. It's no surprise I thought of the two of them on Saturday; as I concocted these on the stove, with their Save the Date on my fridge. So I took the liberty of changing their name in anticipation of Sarah changing hers. These were gobbled up in less than five minutes on Saturday night. I recommend right out of the fridge with some very cold, white wine in your other hand. Perfectly sweet. Cheers.




What They're Made of:

• Green grapes
• White chocolate chips
• Roasted, salted peanuts