FIVE things to do in Detroit with kids under FIVE who wake up at FIVE and eat dinner at FIVE (And FIVE (Minus Two) Things to Avoid).

 We spent the week in Detroit, and my cousin Audrey showed us the joys and wonders that this city can do for a family.

So, I present to you

FIVE things to do in Detroit with kids under FIVE who wake up before FIVE and need dinner at FIVE (And FIVE (Minus Two) Things to Avoid).

 

1.    Carpenter Lake Nature Preserve

 

Carpenter Lake Nature Preserve is an unassuming little loop through the woods. Fine and good and all, but the reason to visit the park is a massive (art?) installation of boulders at its entrance that can be climbed upon, crawled through, and used to play pretend being billy goats.

The place is a rocklover’s dream and has beautiful views hidden among the seemingly strewn-about boulders. Try to find the two benches (the only polished pieces of stone in the whole place) and sit to enjoy the arranged view. Great place for hidden angles, kid-friendly bouldering, and a wall of trees to look for birds.

2.    Henry Ford Museum

We went for a Muppets and stayed for the massive machines. Leo calls it ‘machinamazoo,’ because it was filled with cars, trains, ovens, giant water pumps, airplanes, and a thousand other inventions from the last century. I had never seen anything like it, and it totally blew my mind. They have model T broken down to its wires and suspended, exploded out like Dr. Manhattan lost his temper.

They also have an old-timey village in the back that has such buildings as the Wright Brothers bicycle shop and Edison’s lab. We didn’t see a tenth of what could be seen, but the kids had a blast running through the place at full speed, stopping at massive trains or sports cars or exploring living rooms through the ages.

 

3.    Detroit Zoo 

My favorite part of the zoo was Xander’s reaction to it. He’s about 22 months old and has never seen zebras, tigers or snow monkeys on display, and yet it was the squirrels that captured his attention.

“Quirre! Quirre!” He would tell me, gesticulating wildly as yet another squirrel scurried by. At one point, there was a chimpanzee climbing a tree not twenty feet away from us, but Xander was steadfastly focused on the squirrel behind our bench and in the opposite direction.

We did get his attention later, when we walked through the kangaroo enclosure.

“Kanga-ROO!” He declared, as the sleepy-headed kangaroos paid no attention to the humans following the sidewalk that ran through their pen.

Personally, I got a kick out of the flamingo enclosure. There were two kinds of flamingos, a type of stork, and a kind of spoonbill I had never seen before, but what had me in stitches were Canada Geese, Mallards and even the odd Turkey Vulture that landed in their pond, fearless in the face of these massive birds.

4.    Franklin Apple Cider Mill

If there was an experience that felt like the quintessential fall activity in Michigan, it was going to the Cider Mill. We parked, disembarked, and approached a creaking barn nestled on the bend of a creek. I checked the mallards to see if one of them was in fact an American Black Duck hiding in plain sight, but alas, no such luck to be had.

We crossed the bridge and went to check out the water wheel. It was a massive thing, twenty feet or more in circumference, and it was still being used! Past the wheel, there was a window through which we could see the turning of gears and belts that kept the factory alive. My brilliant engineer/water nerd of a cousin did notice that there were some PVC pipes running to the top of the waterwheel, and it didn’t take too much investigation to notice that the trough that was feeding water into the top of the waterwheel did not extend out of the barn. This meant that while this Cider Mill had most certainly been built near this creek so they could harness the power of running water, they had at some point in the last hundred years realized just how damn convenient electricity is. Audrey was a bit disappointed at this falsehood in the technology, but personally, I find it admirable that they are still using the water wheel itself, and are simply using a pump to recycle the water and surely run the mill more efficiently and consistently than any stream could hope to do.

This disconnect between the old and the new (somewhat) rectified, we pursued the main attraction of the place: fresh cinnamon donuts.

I have had hot donuts before, but I had not had donuts like these since I was a wee lad. They were served in a paperbag that immediately turned transparent from the fat they were fried in. They were just a bit crisp on the outside and soft and perfect on the inside. To me, they tasted like visiting my grandparents. I tried to eat one hours later, when the bag was no longer hot, and it was a far cry from the perfection that it was when served fresh.

We also were lucky enough to meet my cousin Emily there, who had a three-year-old and a teensy tiny little ten-week-old baby.

Audrey had done her research and learned that bread is not very good for a duck’s digestive system, so had brought frozen peas to feed our amphibious friends. Apparently, the ducks did not get the memo.  Two dads and three boys must have tossed a hundred frozen peas into the stream. Each one was either summarily ignored or tasted then spit out. But when a grandma and her three-year-old chucked their half-eaten donuts into the stream, the ducks devoured them. Not that I blame the ducks. If someone would have given me frozen peas with the smell of hot cinnamon donuts and fresh cider in the air, I too would have turned my bill up at them.

5.    Candy and Three Pies

I asked Leo what I should write for number five, and after a moment’s thought he told me in all seriousness, “Candy and three pies.” And he is not wrong.

The best thing for us about Detroit was our amazing, lively and considerate hostess, my cousin Audrey. Even before we arrived, she was frantically preparing for us, going so far as to send us a bingo card of the breakfasts, lunches, dinners, and snacks (each day had a choice for healthy/unhealthy snacks) that was all curated to be kid-friendly and still somehow super delicious. She told us that there was no need for us to go grocery shopping, and when I told her we had already picked ten pounds of apples, she told me not to worry, she had eight (8!!!) pie crusts we could use to make pie.

She had picked out all the places she thought we’d enjoy (See #s 1-4 of this list) and even had season passes to most of them, so we could go for free. She had toys and yes, candy for the kids, which Xander has since developed an appetite (addiction). She knew we needed to work, so had even planned stay-at-home activities that she could do with the kids. Though, as Leo ‘helped’ her construct a rocket from pieces of cardboard and duct tape, it became increasingly clear that this was a project she had been planning for quite some time.

Still, when Leo woke the next morning to find that the rocket had been painted, bedazzled with gemstones, affixed with a glittery translator, a working steering wheel, and a control panel, he was rather impressed. When smoke came out of it from a well-placed fog machine, he just about lost his mind with excitement. 

Her partner James was unbelievably kind and patient with our two young kids, as well. One afternoon it started to rain, and Raquel and I (mostly I) frantically ran outside to close the windows on the RV. We found Xander leaning against a window sill, staring out at the rain and squealing with laughter while James kneeled there with him, talking about the rain and life in the Motor City. A special moment that we somehow failed to get a picture of.

If you're looking for some not so sweet food recommendations in Detroit Buddy's Pizza is always a hit!  

Three Things To Avoid

 

1.     American Coney Island on Labor Day

 

This mainstay of downtown Detroit haunted me. I have done more research than is strictly necessary in regards to the Motor City, and one thing I have become fixated on is the rivalry between American Coney Island and their next door neighbor, Lafayette Coney Island. Allegedly, every Detroiter has an opinion on which of the two hotdog stands they prefer, and yet I had never tried either, despite being born in one of the many nearby suburbs.

Eager to taste one of each and weigh in on this decades-standing debate, we bullied Audrey into breaking from her carefully curated schedule for us and had her take us to Detroit on Labor Day.

Labor Day, for idiots like me who don’t think about it, is a day for people to not labor. That sort of holiday is especially important in a city that was built by unions, and a couple of working-class joints like American and Lafayette. Much to my dismay, both were closed, as was much of Detroit. We ended up eating a Detroit-style pizza at Buddy’s that was insanely delicious (and way better than the Detroit pizza knock-offs in Austin), though we were so hungry and exhausted at that point, that my judgment could be impaired.

I planned to return to Detroit and settle this coney island rivalry, and a chance to do exactly that presented itself when I spotted an American Coney Island at the Detroit Zoo. Alas, it was closed, and my fury for American Coney Island stepped up a notch.

Finally, on the eve of our departure, we returned and found that both spots were open. James led us into Lafayette Coney Island without hesitation. It was a well-kept but unmistakably ancient diner, with white tile on the wall and tiny tables squished up against the fountain machine. I ordered a coney, all the way, and fries.

It was delicious. The bun: white. The mustard: yellow. The onions: chopped. The chili sauce: goopy and perfect. The hotdog: tender and delicious, with a natural casing that popped in my mouth when I ate it. I devoured it in three, maybe four bites, and waited for everyone else (including my snail eater of a son to finish). The proprietor (a man whom I had spoken to on the phone earlier, when I had called to make sure they were open. He had responded with a, ‘yes we’re open. All day.’ And promptly hung up) noticed that our kids were not eating the dogs, and gave each of them a bag of potato chips.

A kind gesture, especially since it saved my two kids from being throttled by their father for refusing to eat a plain hotdog with ketchup.

But it was time to go next door, kids and their chips be damned. So I stuffed Leo’s hotdog in his potato chip bag, stuffed the bag in my pocket, and went next door.

And thus, a verdict was made.

As James clearly knew, Lafayette is the superior dog. They are both solid meat tubes served on white bread with mustard and onions, so the difference comes down to the chili sauce. Lafayette’s is simply tastier, and thus it is the better coney.  American is something to see. It is very glitzy, done up in red, white, blue, and gold. It sits on the corner and lets you see the whole city go by. It feels very touristy, and very American, and is well worth having a dog there, but I don’t think it would exist if not for Lafayette next door, serving up perfect coneys and forcing American to keep up with their quality.

Would I dare publish this opinion while still in Detroit? Of course not. But we left the city beyond and therefore I am willing to weigh in here, on the internet, where no one can throw their less-favorite coney at me.

2.     Birding.

 

Believe it or not, the Motor City is not great for birds. Though this speaks to a larger problem for the central Texas birder. I have seen pretty much all of the birds they get in Michigan. There are a few warblers I would like to see, but most of those hang out in Austin for a glorious week or two during spring migration season, a time when their feathers are fresh and their calls are constant.

It’s been cool to see pileated woodpeckers and the two kinds of nuthatches, they have here, but I long to go east and get into a new flight path.

3.     Apple Picking

 

We did not actually go apple picking in Detroit, but I cannot imagine it being better than the apple picking in Holland, on the other side of the state.

We went on the insistence of my granny, and I have to admit, I was less than thrilled at the idea of doing a chore.

But y’all, apple picking is a ton of fun!

The orchard we went two had twenty kinds of apples, and the old feller working out front was more than happy to give us samples and tell us the tasting profile of the three apples that were currently in season. We decided that the Blondee (a mutant of the Gala) was the apple for us, and started off down the rows of diminutivem decades old  trees. Go to our Instagram for pictures and you’ll get a better idea of that it's like, but man y’all, there is just something amazing about seeing an apple tree—most of which are kept pruned so they don’t get more than eight feet tall—absolutely covered in apples. Each tree had a minimum of fifty apples, and some must have had hundreds. The old feller back at the barn had told us how to pick out a good Blondee (Not the green ones! Look for a yellow or the faintest blush of orange) and Leo had taken notes. He ran through the fields, pointing out ripe apples and asking if they could be picked.

By the time we had finished (we had to pick some Galas and Macintosh too!) we had filled our sack with ten pounds of apples. This might have been a problem, as neither Leo or Raquel particularly like apples (I like them and Xander LOVES them) but Audrey had piecrusts, there were no problems on the horizon, only pie.