The family duck shack, was a place where food tasted better, stars shone brighter, and the banter was more lively. The crisp fall days, with blue skies, golden grass waving in the breeze, the majestic mountains in the distance and the velvet black sky at night with more stars than one could ever count. Some nights they are even treated to the Aurora Borealis dancing over the city lights of Anchorage across Cook Inlet.
Lazy days laughing and giggling with her four sisters and brother, stories of the hunt that have become family lore and food that seemed better than in any gourmet restaurant, all cooked on the old Coleman stove, are memories from her childhood.
In later years, brothers-in-law were grudgingly invited to the old tarpaper duck shack on the slough. Stories were told and retold late into the night around the plywood table, under the
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light of a propane lantern and warmed by a fire crackling in the old barrel stove. A grill on the deck was added to the Coleman stove and steak with “duck shack” mushrooms became a first night tradition.
Today, nieces and nephews, eagerly jump out of the plane on Opening Day, running to claim a bunk in the new shack on the slough. The family has outgrown the old tarpaper shack, so it seems fortuitous that a few years back Betsy’s newly minted husband, David, straight off the streets of New York City, accidentally blew up the old duck shack. But that’s another story…one that is gleefully told and retold by the other brothers-in-law when they all get together over fine food with great wine.
The Duck Shack is a place where tall tales take wing and become the stuff of legend. Our Duck Shack wines are meant to be poured wherever friends gather and tall tales are told.
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