I grew up in Brighton, and I love it year-round. But objectively the best time to be in Brighton is during the Betsey Ann Picnic. (Note the extra “e” in Betsey. I’m a true Brightonian; this accuracy matters.)
So last weekend, I trekked back to Brighton to my childhood home and spent the evening at the picnic.
My friends and I arranged to meet at the picnic and enjoy the evening together. My partner, God bless her, agreed to come and experience my hometown. And so that’s where I found myself on Saturday night, sitting in the beer tent, sipping my drink and jamming out to The Tracy Inman Band and just generally enjoying the nostalgia.
And then I bit off more than I could chew, literally! Or, well, not literally. The point is, I tried the burgoo soup.
For those of you who don’t know, Brighton is the burgoo capital of the world. Seriously, my hometown is known for its burgoo soup.
But for all my hometown pride, I had never actually tasted the famous burgoo before. As a child, I was too picky, and then as I got older, I was distracted by other fair food.
Brighton’s burgoo is a rite of passage, and I was lacking.
So we were sitting in the beer tent, chilling, when my brother asked our friend’s dad, “What’s in the burgoo?”
I would be remiss to write this without addressing the rumors. Burgoo hasn’t always had the best reputation. Some other towns make it with turtles. “What’s in the burgoo?” is a question we’ve all wondered.
But my friend’s dad shrugged and said, “Come see.”
So there we went, a parade of us who had never tasted the burgoo before, off to discover for ourselves the secret recipe. We arrived in the burgoo pavilion and stared in amazement as another friend’s father pointed to the empty vats and explained that they had made over 600 gallons of soup over the past few days — and most of it had sold.
Brightonians love their burgoo. People bring empty containers so they can store up and freeze the soup for the winter. This is serious business.
We got a glimpse of the recipe, and while I can’t tell you everything that’s in there — it’s a secret for a reason! — suffice it to say there are no turtles and plenty of yummy ingredients. In truth, it sounded pretty good.
“Have you ever tried it before?” asked the man in charge. We all shook our heads, embarrassed to admit that we had failed to experience this Brighton tradition.
We got six bowls and a quart of burgoo and sat down to try it out.
Some people like it with crackers. Some love to add hot sauce. Always willing to fully commit to a new experience, I loaded my bowl up with both and took a big bite.
It was pretty good! The hot sauce definitely added a good zing. I ate half my bowl, comparing tastes with my friends. It was like chili with more flavor. A thick stew, ham-forward, not bad at all. My friends and I laughed at our own cowardice. We had been too afraid to try this before, and we had been missing out.
There’s a lesson in there somewhere about trying new things and trusting the process and embracing where you’re from. I’m trying to do all three!
My love for my hometown is strongest during the Betsey Ann Picnic, when I run into people I graduated with and watch the kids enjoy the festival and generally feel deeply nostalgic for when I was a kid myself, riding the rides and playing the games.
Nowadays, I enjoy the picnic with a drink and a fried Oreo and great company, which is equally awesome. And maybe next year I’ll load up my own burgoo container. My hometown pride is shining through. Brighton is the burgoo capital of the world, and that’s where I’m from, and I can now say I’ve experienced the Betsey Ann Picnic to its fullest.
