By Kimberly Mayer
Every now and then I’ll be out walking the loop by Roche Harbor, minding my business, when a lady in a shiny golf cart whizzes past me, and with a particular wave of her hand an entire scenario opens up, unfolds, and I fall through. I might be thinking something unfathomable or confounding, and she goes by so gladly. My imaginary mother is on island.
I’m pretty sure we all thought mom would outlive dad. Something in her just didn’t age. So it made sense that we thought perhaps someday she’d come live with us. And to coax her out of driving, we’d get her a golf cart and urge her to stay local.
But now that my imaginary mother has come to live with us, “gallivanting about” as she says, is fun again. Jumping into her buggy she picks up mail at the post office on the wharf, shops for groceries, browses boutiques, or meets new friends for lunch at Madrona Bar & Grill or Lime Kiln Cafe. Like me walking, mom notices the Queen Anne’s Lace just appearing, the deer crossing, and fox going in and out of culverts by the side of the road. In my mind she’s in heaven here. In her mind she’s probably on Martha’s Vineyard.
Mom came to San Juan Island from Cape Cod and Duxbury, Mass. From Talbots and L.L. Bean to Pendleton and REI it’s not that much of a stretch. As well as living off the sea as much as can be. She arrived a lover of raw oysters, although we had to get her off red cocktail sauce and onto our mignonette sauce as an accompaniment.
As it happened, mom’s niece had worked with Erin French at The Lost Kitchen in Freedom, Maine. A little known gem of a restaurant until Martha Stewart strolled in one day, and the next thing you knew The Lost Kitchen appeared as a story in her magazine, Martha Stewart Living. But we didn’t need to wait for Martha, as my cousin Margot was in the kitchen with Erin, and gave us tips on what they called Oyster Hogwash Sauce at The Lost Kitchen. It’s as fine a mignonette with oysters as we know.
Oyster Hogwash Sauce
¼ c. unseasoned rice vinegar
¼ c. seasoned vinegar
1 large shallot, peeled and minced
1 large jalapeno pepper, seeded and minced
½ bunch fresh cilantro, freshly chopped
Juice of one lime
Combine all ingredients in a bowl, stir and serve alongside freshly shucked oysters.
Note: Margot notes that while shallots and vinegar are the base, cilantro and lime aren’t always a part of it. Instead of lime juice, “We often add plums or whatever fruit is in season. Exploration is the key. Sometimes it’s cucumbers, sometimes blueberries. Sometimes juice, sometimes just the fruit, there is not a fixed way. Brines are different, seasons are different, so it’s always about the present moment.”
Originally published August 13, 2025 in The Journal of The San Juan Islands
a little elbow room 
Kim, I can see and feel your Mother in this piece. Love the last part about the raw oysters(they are my favorite with red cocktail sauce🥰) I have to admit Margot’s mignonette sauce does sound enticing. Being in the present moment is always good. That way we don’t miss anything.❤️
It means everything to me, Val, that you remember my mother, you know Margot, and love oysters!
What a nice way to remember your mother! I often meant to ask for the mignonette recipe. Thanks for providing it.
Thank you, Susan. Now you have it.
What a wonderful piece (yet again) and this beautiful photo makes me nostalgic. I may digress from this great ‘Oyster Hogwash Sauce’ recipe (although I love the addition of a jalapeno) and take this moment to remember your mother.
Your mother had a verve for life, and that energy and spirit is hard to lose. I love the image of her immortal, racing around your environs in a golf cart. Her level of excitement and positivity about life was contagious, and she was grounded in hope.
When you mentioned The Lost Kitchen and your cousin, Margot, I came across a quote of Erin’s from one of her books that I think fits your mother’s perspective of hope:
“Being imperfect is OK! You can do crazy successful things and still go through battles. There were moments when I couldn’t see the light. But you can make positive changes. I’m just an ordinary girl. I want other people to feel the same hope.”
Your mother was ‘present’ before we needed to be told to ‘be present.’ For example, I remember feeling her earnest interest – without distraction – in knowing about my young, tender life. Of course, I could get up to a bit of mischief in the old days and your mother’s detective-like intention could be quite disarming, but it was more that she had a wonderful sense of innocence and curiosity about her that I did not want to spoil. That curiosity and wonder – like you have – in noticing “the Queen Anne’s Lace just appearing, the deer crossing, and fox going in and out of culverts by the side of the road.”
I too see my mother walking the plaza in Santa Fe with a flash of her short, white hair. It reminds me that I don’t like being left alone to do the storytelling. Rather than passing the baton and being left the storyteller, the opportunity to share your mother’s deep interest and enjoyment in experiences, nature, activities, and people, is well-worth imagining.
“A verve for life,” curiosity and wonder, I love that you saw all that in my mother. It took me years, you know.
On the other hand, I was always in awe of Miggs, your mother. Today I miss them both terribly.