Grilled Portobello Mushrooms on Roll, Roasted Peppers, Vidalia Onion, Smoked Cheddar
It always seems interesting to me how it happens that we coincidentally return back to places that were somehow special to us in childhood that in adulthood we wouldn’t have given much thought to returning.
Living in a suburb just outside Philadelphia the likelihood is that I would more frequently be headed toward the city.
Yet circumstances and interests always seem to take me through the back roads in the complete opposite direction and to a relatively small town called Phoenixville.
A place where I made annual summer visits and celebrated some family occasions, the home of my Dad’s sister, Emily, her then husband, Lou, and my cousin Emily, who we only now call Emily as an adult, but used to call Emily Jane, kind of like I was Peggy Ann.
People spoke to you in full names those days. In those days I might rather have been called portobello mushroom head than that but the only alternative nickname that ever came my way was Piggy Peggy. I hated Piggy Peggy. And to be reminded on it my youngest sister Michelle one year gave me a “Miss Piggy” dangling Christmas tree ornament dressed in ballet suited finery with a crown. I admit it. I laughed so hard I even kept the thing and still add it to the annual Christmas tree.
The likelihood of me going back to Phoenixville after childhood seems remote and not on my travel itinerary.
Today I keep returning back to the area frequently on Saturday visits to the Phoenixville Farmer’s Market, coincidentally where I always get my fresh mushrooms from Oley Valley Mushrooms, including the meaty, full flavored, earthy, portobello, like for today’s special, Grilled Portobello Mushrooms on Roll, Roasted Peppers, Vidalia Onion, Smoked Cheddar.
When my youngest daughter, Alex the Athlete, began playing on her field hockey club team in high school, a club team begun by a former Wales and Britain Olympian with his former Olympian Chinese wife, what do you think the odds are given the whole wide world where their first training building, a warehouse beneath an old antique shop was located? Yes. Phoenixville.
Though I’ve yet to run into her at the market, my cousin Emily and her family still live in the same home I annually visited over summers, and celebrated at on some family occasions. Perhaps some day between hockey club visits, and trips to the Phoenixville Farmers Market we might get together for lunch, perhaps visit that old home special to me in childhood whose location for completely different reasons coincidentally keeps me returning back always keeping me close.