Let me begin by saying there is nothing, nothing at all, like vacation. Whether you go touring the sites in Europe, on an African safari, a remote island in the Caribbean, or simply in the confines of your own home, everyone deserves some time off from life. Time off from being responsible and any issues going on in your life. And yes, time away from the internet.

We chose door number three this year, and landed ourselves on the remote island of Antigua for a week of pure relaxation. We didn’t even plan on having access to the internet, but upon arrival we immediately saw the dreaded hut equipped with wires, a monitor, and a keyboard providing unlimited, free access to the world beyond. Bleh. You think you get away, you think you’re “off the map”, but that world wide web follows you everywhere. We immediately made a promise to only go in that room for brief, very brief, periods of time. For me, I used it to clean the junk outta my inbox.

I responded to one email. I had to, because it made me chuckle. It was from my mother-in-law, and this is what it said:

Hope you are enjoying Antigua. What are you doing spending your time on your blog? I know you love it but now I know you really must love it!!! Love, Susan

You see, she thought I was in that little ol’ hut bloggin’ away. I wasn’t, I swear. I did those posts on jerk chicken and baklava before leaving. I went to my blog once to make sure the formatting didn’t screw up, which blogger sometimes does. In case you were wondering. Just in case.

The rest of the time we did just what we intended. We awoke each morning to the wind and the smell of the Caribbean, suited-up and headed down to eat a lackluster breakfast, usually involving an attempt at an egg dish and unripened tomatoes. Or french toast with plain white bread. Thank goodness for the juice of the day and for a new fruit in my vocab, soursop. Afterwards, we plopped down on some lounge chairs and watched the little bitty waves come and go across the turquoise sea that pictures only try to depict. We marinated our bodies with sunscreen and baked in the sun, day after day while drinking blended tropical concoctions. We broke only for lunch – different fish specials, burgers, jerk chicken, and different desserts every day, generally featuring a local fruit.

At night, we loaded up with bug spray, ate varied, tasty three course meals, and proceeded to drink wine on the balcony – just us, the mosquitoes, and music from the iPhone. For the life of me, I could not figure out why I got so many bites while Chris got 1. I have stopped three times already, just while typing this, to itch another one and no joke, have at least 100 tiny little bites on places like the side of my hand, my fingers, my armpits, and my heels. According to WebMD, I either get to thank my parents or my body’s ability to quickly process cholesterol. I prefer being the 1 in 10 people writing with the left hand rather than the 1 in 10 who are highly susceptible to mosquito bites. At first I thought the mosquito netting on the bed was for prettiness – I was (obviously) quickly informed otherwise.

Other than frequent trips to the beach, or to the bar on the beach, or into the Caribbean to cool off, we were fairly stationary. Our hike up to our cottage was our exercise, and that hike stole our breath every time. We mustered up enough energy to jetski and I finally tried my hand, or rather my mind, at scuba. Until next time, let’s just say there is something to be said for ‘overcoming’ a trifecta of fears in one moment and then finding enough courage to live through 45 minutes of that same torture, just hoping an ounce of it fades into the sand below.

Not unlike any other vacation, I choose based on locale but also on cuisine. The resort boasted about their food, their fresh seasonal ingredients, and their variety. Other than breakfast, we were more than satisfied. Don’t get me wrong, I could rattle off dozens of places with better food in the states, but if given the choice of eating good food in the middle of nowhere or excellent food in civilization, I would have a tough time choosing without forming a large column listing pros and cons of each.

Nonetheless, I managed to arrive back in Chicago with tighter jeans and no desire to wear a swimsuit in at least a few months. For that reason, I welcome Fall, sort of. I also arrived with an uncanny craving for breakfast fare. I attribute that to the above-mentioned less-than-ideal breakfasts.

So to kick off “salad week”, I started with a variation of bacon and eggs. I’d found this recipe in one of my go-to’s, Cooking Light, and have toyed with making it on a number of occasions but for various reasons never did. It quickly became a recipe I kicked myself for not making sooner – light but rich in flavor, the tarragon vinaigrette is perfect with a small spoonful of bacon fat that coats every little featherlike piece of frisee. The bacon flavor continues with pieces of crunchy crispy bacon and in the same bite, slightly softened bits of rye crouton. The poached egg on top is like icing on the cake.