Well, they do promote themselves as the World’s Most Absurd Bar.
And we’ve concluded the reference isn’t just to the décor.
Where the local beer’s listed as ‘Imported,’ not ‘Domestic’
Tag: Food
A few great regrets in my life
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.
- Not knowing the realities of boy-girl relationships back as a teen. I missed out on a lot of fun and companionship. Maybe I should even add learning to dance, and not that four-square stuff they tried to stuff us into back as sixth-graders. No, New England contras and Greek circles were both epiphanies, much later.
- The big dream that turned out to be false. Along with all the promises I believed.
- Blowups and inadequacies in parenting.
- Divorce. And an inability to confront her long before that. Ancient history now, but even so.
- Hurting others.
- Failing to make a bestsellers list.
- Leaving the Pacific Northwest with my tail tucked ‘tween my legs. Even though I finally wound up living in a couple of places that suit me even better.
- Not being able to see a big research project through to completion. Not our fault, but I still believe it would have made a huge difference in an awareness of how politics and public services really work.
- All the missed social cues and opportunities that went with that. Yes, post high school. It may have even meant my professional career would have gone more Big Time.
- All those years of little to no physical exercise, even if I am in pretty good shape for my age.
Scalloping in the dead of winter
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?
A half gallon of fresh scallops
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?
Some of my favorite dishes the leading lady in my life creates
As I’ve said, she’s one of the world’s great cooks. Middle-Eastern, Italian, Mexican, French, German, even Vietnamese, Thai, and Indian, she does them all and with flair. Me? Let’s look at some of the more regular things I’ve delighted in.
- Anything over charcoal – lamb, peppers, flatbreads, steaks and chops. It never really figured in my life before her. Usually, they were more like sacrificed offerings.
- Roast chicken any number of ways – thyme or rosemary lead my list, but Thai and even Indian now come close behind.
- Asparagus under a poached egg – ditto for spring dandelion.
- Strawberry or blueberry clafoutis. It’s just one of her many creamy desserts that wow me, often with our own berries.
- My annual birthday bash of prime rib and Yorkshire pudding, which she says is one of the easiest things ever.
- She’s quite fond of pork. One year we even had a whole half-pig to play with, cut up to her specifications. I think I’ve already told that story.
- Homemade yogurt. It’s almost like ice cream.
- Pho or banh. Vietnamese staples.
- Chowders. Sometimes using lobster stock from leftover shells.
- Souffles. They taste as heavenly as they look. Even after they deflate.
Now that I’m done bragging, what’s some of your favorite home cooking?
When and what do you eat?
My eating habits were one of the places my residency at the ashram changed my life (see my novel Yoga Bootcamp for a taste of the experience).
The lacto-vegetarian cuisine was one, leading to three extended periods “on the outside” when I continued it. Even when I haven’t, the amount of meat in my menus has remained much less than many Americans’. I rarely use bacon, for instance, and when I do, it’s likely to be as a garnish, say on a spinach salad. Hamburger is more likely to be in a meatball or meatloaf rather than in a bun.
Gravy, curiously, has become more heavenly than ever as an extension of the rue family.
And lamb, a recent addition, is simply glorious, especially grilled.
Grilling, I should add, is something I’ve come to treasure through my wife and the space we dubbed the Smoking Garden. There’s no substitute, as far as I can tell, and it makes for some great social gatherings.
What I gained through the ashram was a delight in vegetables and fruits, especially in season, as well as dried beans, nuts, and mushrooms.
The other lasting change was in my dining habits.
Our first food of the day came after morning meditation, community scripture reading, and perhaps physical exercise, and then it was light food – coffee and toast, maybe with yogurt or fruit, and that after we’d already been up three hours. The real meals were a late brunch or early lunch, around 11, and an evening meal around 4 or a little later.
I’ve continued a similar schedule, foodwise. Well, my caffeine intake is down, per doctor’s orders, but what I have is top-notch. Quality over quantity, right? When I was working the “vampire shift,” till midnight or so, the hours were adjusted accordingly, often with a melty cheese sandwich before bed or a martini. (Alcohol was strictly forbidden on the yoga diet.)
In retirement, I find myself often down to one major meal of the day, and holding steady.
What are some of your food traditions?
Here’s one book that would be really useful
My proposal for a sure-fire hit:
Bachelor Survival Food:
20 recipes to give to your nerdy brother or boyfriend.
Make it really basic, like instant pudding or ramen soup with tofu, but a step beyond peanut butter and jelly or frozen pizza.
What would you include?
Pickled Wrinkle?
Saw a small, weathered sign at the side of the road.
A restaurant, it turns out: Pickled Wrinkle.
While that particular location is long gone, not so over at Birch Harbor, near Acadia National Park.
“Wrinkle,” as I’ve learned, is a diminutive of “periwinkle,” which are commercially harvested around here. In the old days, pickling them was perfect for packing and shipping. And they are an invasive species, FYI.
As for today, you can look up the recipes yourself.
So much for local flavor. Or maybe French.
Still chewing on this
In my novel What’s Left, should Carmichael’s specialty sandwich have been a Hoagy?
Oh, for the glory of pickles!
Not everybody shares my delight in pickles, at least the kind you put on sandwiches, but I pile them on, when I can. I’m not much for lettuce there, by the way – I prefer that as a separate salad.
I like the crunch and acidity the pickles add, or even the sweetness, depending on the variety.
My eyes were opened to this reality the year we went largely vegan when we practiced the Eastern Orthodox feasting for Advent. The hardest part for me was finding snack food. (Well, that plus a satisfactory creamer substitute for my coffee and something in place of cheese and … the list goes on.) Fortunately, my wife makes a great humus, and the wraps can be filling, though bland over repetition. And that’s when the pickles took center stage. A row of the green orbs in the torpedo was truly heavenly.
Not that I stop there. When we’re out to eat, the rest of the family puts their kosher pickles on my plate. Not that I’ll argue.
And then there are the summer pickles, meant to be consumed shortly after the cucumbers taken from the garden and put into canning jars. Sometimes it’s a challenge to keep up with the harvest. As if I’m complaining.
Only in the past few years have I begun to appreciate other kinds of pickles – beets, green beans, and eggs, for instance – dishes that used to appear on family dinners at Grandma and Grandpa’s. Especially on big events like Thanksgiving and Easter. Just how far back in our heritage does that go through generations of farmers?
Anybody else love that pickled ginger they serve with sushi?
Jnana's Red Barn 