In 2008, a massive log cabin owned by the late local multimillionaire Duane Hagadone was split in half and floated on barges across Lake Coeur d'Alene until it reached its new home on Cougar Bay.
Decades earlier, a wealthy Italian family in Midtown Manhattan was split in half by divorce, and a mother and three children flew across the country to make a new home out of a log cabin in Hailey, Idaho.
The oldest daughter was 7 years old when they moved. She had the same name as seven Italian grandmothers before her, Candida. She went by Cara.
Despite suddenly being detached and adrift, Cara soon fell in love with Idaho. She'd grow up and go on to travel the world, but she eventually came back to Idaho to live in a log cabin with a story strikingly similar to her own.
Cara Anthony and her husband, Jeff, bought the Hagadone cabin on Cougar Bay in 2018. The couple renovated the mansion and opened Cougar Bay Lodge, a bed and breakfast specializing in private events catered by Anthony herself.
Trained in Old World techniques by her mother, Anthony offers North Idaho the flavors and finesse of northern Italy. She also teaches cooking classes and runs Mimi and Frankie's Kitchen, a catering company named after Anthony's mother-son pair of French bulldogs.
Anthony has loved animals since she was young. For most of her life, she was a Grand Prix equestrian, jumping horses at elite international competitions.
"If you know how to get to a high level — discipline, hard work, put your head down, keep your head down — you can do anything at a high level," Anthony says.
It's an attitude she brings to every aspect of her life. Anthony's perfect pastries — like brioche buns, croissant tarts, ricotta cakes and Italian donuts — have earned her a following from picky shoppers at local farmers markets. Now, they sell out almost immediately after she delivers them every Friday and Monday morning to the Coeur d'Alene Coffee Shop.
A private cooking class means a chance to experience Anthony's portable commercial kitchen — a sleek, modern trailer next to the lodge with a stunning view of Lake Coeur d'Alene. Students learn to make pasta like Italian grandmothers do on the sidewalks of Apulia or crostatas with the perfect flakey crust filled with apples from Anthony's own orchard.
Fresh produce has been a passion since she was young. Her Idaho childhood home had extensive gardens and a not-so-secret morel patch.
"My mom was all about organic before it was a thing," she says. "We were organic before organic was cool."
Her siblings quickly ditched Idaho for the bustle and familiarity of Manhattan. But Anthony, anchored by animals and food, stayed. She learned to copy her mother's elite cooking technique — she had studied cooking with culinary giants James Beard and Michael Fields in New York City — and mealtime soon became an art. Every month, mother and daughter pored over Gourmet magazine together, each trying to outdo the other with a better recreation of the cover dish.
Today, a dinner party at Cougar Bay Lodge would mean Italian classics with garden fresh ingredients. It would be served on a lakeside patio frequented by bald eagles and moose or in a grand, wood paneled room lit by chandelier and candlelight. But it's an extravagant experience coming to a close. The Anthonys have decided to sell the lodge and end their chapter of being the lodge's owners.
They've been more than fortunate to live in the lodge, Anthony says, and they won't go far. But it's too exhausting and expensive to host dinners at the level Anthony wants, so she doesn't want to do it at all.
"I have a standard," she says. "I can't half-ass it. I will not be proud of what I put out there."
She and her husband are looking for a smaller place on the lake that still has a spot for her commercial trailer kitchen — never fear, her pastries aren't going anywhere. She'll also be available to come into private homes to cook luxurious meals for intimate celebrations.
It's uprooting again, with the inevitable feelings of loss and limbo, but another step in the everchanging journey to find home.