Treasures of Arcadia
By Spencer Kavanagh & Peyton Hunsicker
September 21, 2026
You walk along the well-traveled trail through the shrubbery and trees of Arcadia, the crystal water hazily reflecting the tree line through the steamy condensation of Tenderfoot Cove. You hear the bushes rustle to your left, followed by the scattering of squirrels running by. As the trees clear, the village comes into view with a serene breeze flowing through the needles of pine and hemlock trees. Walking past the sauna and the Clivus composting toilet, you get a different perspective of the cove on the West Dock. Reflecting in the midst of the water, the sky burns a golden hue from the sunrise. You check your watch; the time’s 7:14 a.m. The breeze halts. There’s a stillness for just a moment. “Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding.” The kitchen bell makes you jump, and you see birds scatter from the trees. “Yoo-hoooo, breakfast!” sings Will Chalfant. As is typical for a lovely Friday morning, we Arcadians have our 7:15 a.m. scheduled breakfast, a time not just for nourishment, but a check-in as well to make sure everyone is present in the morning.
Although breakfast is scheduled for a specific time, this doesn’t mean everyone finds their way to the kitchen simultaneously. A handful of us, such as Joe “Early Riser” Frankenfeld, are up much before the bell. Others heavily value their sleep and use the breakfast bell as their primary alarm clock, rolling out of their warm sleeping bags straight into the aromatic kitchen. A select few, such as Izzy Kinsella, choose to sleep in the kitchen loft and awake to happy conversations about yesterday’s sleep quality or the grumbles of the exhausted late night studiers. No matter the start to everyone’s breakfast, all of us leave feeling brighter and supported from our fellow peers who notice if you haven’t had the greatest of sleep.
The imperative facts of this meal are (1) that yogurt is a must, and (2) Joe needs his peanut butter. While a typical breakfast is cold cereal, spiced up oatmeal and the occasional egg, the fan favorite is almost always the North Country Creamery yogurt. Although we’re fine with other brands, it’s heartbreaking to be left with plain Greek yogurt instead of the delectable sweet maple flavor. Once breakfast concludes, each person lines up to scrape every inch of their plate or bowl. The job of cleaning the table, sweeping, and bleaching after meals is divided into yurt groups, with deciduous-named yurts (Yellow Birch and Red Maple) and coniferous yurts (White Pine and Hemlock) alternating day by day. While meals are filled with polite communication and the passing of food and condiments, once cleanup is mentioned, all bets are off. Usually someone will mention, begrudgingly, “It’s a coniferous day,” or the opposite. But at the end of the day, it’s all friendly banter.
Pairs dubbed “cook groups” are responsible for one dinner and breakfast shift per week. While there are six total cook groups, we have one anomaly: with an odd number of Arcadians, Joe must fill the floater position. Once a week he can choose to work with any cook group. This extra hand can especially help with the dish line. Each line utilizes a three-step process of a hot soap scrub, warm rinse, and cold bleach disinfection. And without running water, we must be tactical with our supply lugged from the lake or collected from our rain barrel.
When the kitchen empties out for the morning, all the Arcadians leave for classes while the kitchen takes a slight rest from the hustle and bustle. The kitchen clock, mechanically ticking its monotone rhythm, is the only sound in the newly empty space. The drip of “Luna,” our very own gravity water filter, sings the tune of hydration. She must slowly cleanse the drinking water collected from the lake so as to avoid very present potable risks. Luna can hold six gallons at a time, but that’s no match for the rush of thirsty Arcadians after their morning classes.
Noon is about the time everyone scrambles back into the kitchen for a quick lunch. Within the chaos, many start constructing picture perfect grilled cheeses, while others opt for leftovers. A staple concoction is putting whatever sounds good in a wrap. On occasion, the yogurt lovers may decide that another bowl of North Country Creamery yogurt isn’t out of the question. North Country Creamery, the magical place providing our beloved yogurt, is one of many local food systems we at Arcadia participate in. Others include Mace Chasm and, more integrally, Kent Family Growers who provide us with a colorful spectrum of treasures in the form of seasonal produce.
Each year, before the growing season begins, the Adirondack Semester subscribes to a CSA, or community supported agriculture, share with Kent Family Growers, an organic farm located in Lisbon, NY, just north of Canton. A CSA is a way for the average citizen, or in our case Arcadia, to become involved in the process of local food systems without the backbreaking labor that accompanies caring for a variety of high quality crops. We pay a premium upfront that helps to fund necessary equipment and labor, and in turn we receive a portion of the harvest once the crops have matured. Within this model, members take part in community building with their local farms and get to see firsthand where their food comes from, which is often a big challenge in this age of industrial agriculture and corporate supermarket chains.
To gain more information on this topic, we asked Ryann Murray, St. Lawrence University and Adirondack Semester alum and current Graduate Assistant Program Coordinator of Outdoor Education at SLU, for further insight. “Working with local farmers establishes an intimate connection with both people and your food,” Ryann said. “CSA means understanding your part in that system.”
We receive produce here once a week on Friday afternoons. The bright orange crates holding wondrous jewels shape the upcoming cook group’s options. Communally, we come together and try to find optimal spaces to fit our treasure in the kitchen cabinets.
Produce rolls in seasonally. Once the corn harvest is over and temperature drops, we expect a wave of squash. Cooking with creativity becomes vital because we can’t eat what we don’t have. So in the meantime, we cherish tomatoes and the sweeter produce. Accompanying this challenge, cook groups must also honor a list of each Arcadian’s food preferences and dietary restrictions. These preferences can range from life threatening nut allergies to vegan diets to an extreme aversion to celery. But they’re all equally important. Even with multiple hurdles, a delicious meal is always enjoyed.
At 6:30 p.m., the same kitchen bell can be heard, followed by a much louder holler of “Dinner!” The chairs fill one-by-one, and when all the Arcadians are present, the cook groups share a “quote” of their choosing, concluding with a table drum roll and a loud collective “Woo!” Even Eddy, Jake’s tiny dog, loves to participate when anticipation is high. Amid these longstanding traditions, the table becomes a family-style line with those closest to the food serving the rest of the table. For the next ten minutes there is chaos with some shouting “two scoops of rice!” and “slide me the nooch (nutritional yeast),” among other requests that can be picked out of the crowd. Once the storm passes, there’s the rewarding feeling of a satisfied table.
During our meal, conversations can vary from fun childhood memories to Arcadian superlatives and anything in between. Although it’s great fun, the most rewarding sound for the cook group is a silent table populated by those too busy eating for conversation. “It’s the best I’ve ever eaten in terms of healthy food,” remarked Eric Kniple when asked about the Arcadian diet. Fellow Arcadian Luke McChesney, also known as Protein Lover, also provided his take on a mostly vegetarian diet. “There are other ways to get protein,” he said. “The main meals are never processed foods.”
Following dinner, all the satisfied diners march to the compost bin and scrape off their dishes, and then the clean-up crew does their usual dish routine. In the process, one more hurdle becomes apparent: the so-called “bin of fun.” Because dish lines function only at breakfast and dinner, the evening crew must also contend with every dish and Tupperware utilized during lunch, such as an entire cake setup. This “magical” bin holds not only lunch dishes but also late-night tea and cocoa cups. Simply by opening the lid, you can reconstruct the previous night’s activities and see the memories that would have been erased by mice cleaning up the scraps.
Even with a monstrous pile of dishes done, the kitchen does not go dark. Instead, it comes alive in many shapes and forms. Maybe it’s an Arcadian sing along where Krish Gupta, Emily Helterline, and Will Chalfant showcase their musical talents, or maybe it’s an intense game of Catan, cards, or dominoes.
As the evening unfolds, the kitchen may lose a few residents, whether they wander off to indulge in a swim/sauna cycle or bolt straight to the Lurt to study. Even so, there will always be a handful of Arcadians keeping the kitchen alive. As everyone winds down for the night, people flock to their sleep spots in their yurts or even, for Eric, on the kitchen table. To recharge for the days to come, Arcadians may go to bed anywhere from 9:00 p.m. to midnight. One by one, the buildings of Arcadia darken, the sauna extinguishes its last ember from the last night’s swimmers, the loon calls echo out into the distance, and the sparkle of the stars illuminates the abyss of the night sky. All that’s left is the glow of a single kitchen light tended by the late-night tea drinkers, who are watched over by our personified pickle barrel, Mr. G. The other Arcadians, now sound asleep, rest for another busy day and early morning. Their hearts are filled with the collective purpose of the community, and tomorrow they will continue to love and support each other unconditionally. Goodnight, Arcadia!
