You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall
This very sharp two-blade knife, designed for use on grapefruit, has become a favorite of mine. As a Christmas present however many years ago it was intended as something of a joke. We didn’t have tons of extra room in the old place, and since the move, we’ve been seriously downsizing from that.
But it does the job so well it has made the cut, as they say.
Eastport was once the sardine capital of the world.
I’m wondering if I’m supposed to eat these with Raye’s mustard sauce.
It’s really elegant thin glass that turns iridescent when light strikes through it, with or without the martini.
It and a set of metal olive skewers came wrapped at Christmas and have been duly admired and enjoyed since.
Love their fresh rye bread, if I can get down there in time on the weekend.
It makes great toast and croutons, in addition to marvelous sandwiches.
For most of my life, I never would have thought sauerkraut could rise any higher than maybe a gag-inducing edible in an obligatory sort of way. You know, like liver. Something in some households you might be required to eat on New Year’s Eve to assure a good 12 months ahead. Think of lutefisk (lye fish) in Nordic cultures as a parallel.
Well, my best friend’s parents, of good German Lutheran stock, made their own, but they also composted for their garden, and back in the ‘50s, that seemed pretty weird.
I am convinced that there are certain dishes that will never become acquired tastes to some or even many tongues. (Feel free to make nominations here.)
That said, imagine my surprise in recent decades in discovering the joys of fine Chinese cuisine, along with the shock of learning that the filling on those snappy eggrolls and spring rolls was essentially sauerkraut, just by another name.
Maybe that set up the moment of revelation.
Morse’s in Waldoboro.
First came some nibbles after an old Mainer made his annual pilgrimage, returning with 20 or 30 pounds or so.
The taste was sweet and tangy, even refreshing. I do like pickles, but these are in a class all their own. I mean, they’re glorious. OK, I had come to prefer coleslaw with a vinegar dressing more than the conventional creamy one, so maybe that had prepared me. (Not that I turn down either.)
That’s set up our own trips in the family, including one with me in the depths of a very snowy February. The road out of the village to the store seemed to take forever, I was sure we had taken a wrong turn somewhere, but then the small store appeared, and it offered more crocks of pickled traditions than just kraut. It also had a small but very tasty German restaurant, which appears to have fallen victim to Covid restrictions. All in all, a delight.
Upshot is, it’s a dish I’ve come to anticipate each winter from our own ten-pound or so purchase.
Morse’s is, in itself, a fascinating story of a family business that’s undergone some transformations but maintains a small niche in an increasingly monolithic food industry. I have no idea if you can find it anywhere near where you live, but then maybe that might inspire another entrepreneur to rise to the challenge. Bigger is not always better.
Well, they do promote themselves as the World’s Most Absurd Bar.
And we’ve concluded the reference isn’t just to the décor.
Maybe it’s just the end of the year and looking ahead, but let’s be honest.
There are things we’ve all done that we wished had gone differently.
Here are some of mine.
This time of year, I hear the puttering motors in the chill air before the sun’s even up as the fishing boats head out to drag the depths for scallops. No matter how low the thermometer reading or how bad the weather, the vessels venture by, or attempt to, intent on catching their daily limit of ten or 15 gallons a day in a season that runs no more than 50 or 70 days but may close earlier, depending on the sustainable harvest in each of the regulated zones.
A day not out on the water of the bays around Eastport is a day’s income that’s lost for the season. The economics of fishing are precarious enough.
These intrepid fishermen shuck their catch onboard, tossing the shells overboard, which provides grounding for the breeding of more, and then return to port with their precious harvest, often well before noon.
The licenses are coveted and even the size of crews is limited by state law.
Come summer, many of the boats, with their rigging reconfigured, and their crews will have turned their attention to lobster.
Other important harvests here are urchins and clams.
What workers impress you the most when they’re out in bad weather?
Or about 4½ pounds, purchased from a dragger docked at the Breakwater pier, where the crew of three was busy shucking the morsels from their shells. After dining on these two days straight last Christmas, we agreed we have a new holiday tradition. Unlike ones you would purchase at a market, these have no water added, and that means you can get a lovely sear when sauteing them in a bit of olive oil and butter. Do I need to add they taste heavenly?
Jnana's Red Barn 