
Home grown, of course.
You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall

Home grown, of course.



Wait till the tide rolls in.

Sometimes food is even better the second or even third time around. In this case, Brussels sprouts with homemade croutons and grated cheese form a main luncheon course.
Here’s how our Pascha repast looked last year, when the Eastern Orthodox Easter observance came two weeks earlier than this year’s.

Grilled leg of lamb, medium-rare, roasted Greek potatoes, and fresh asparagus suit me as a perfect follow-up to the Eastern Holy Week observations. Or the marathon, as some justifiably refer to the sequence of services.
The quartered, peeled potatoes were coated with a mixture of olive oil, lemon juice, garlic, oregano, and fresh rosemary and placed on a small baking tray that had been sprayed with oil to make the cleanup easier. When done, the crusty exterior covered a hot creamy interior that melted in the mouth. As my late German mother-in-law would have said, this is better than God living in France.
Let me say I’m looking forward to another round today, fully aware of the glorious experience awaiting those who have observed the nearly seven weeks of strict dietary restrictions they call fasting. Truly.
The first year I witnessed the gardener in our household sprout and then transplant a dozen or so varieties of tomatoes, I was perplexed. Foolish me, I thought tomatoes were pretty interchangeable. Not so by the end of summer, when I had discovered how much each variety had its own identity. Some ripened earlier than others, a major consideration in our short growing season. Some were firmer while others were juicier. Each variety matured in its own size and shape. Trying to describe the range of flavors could soon sound like a wine tasting commentary. So far, we’ve had nothing that has delivered a hint of slightly warm asphalt, which seemed to be a plus for one wine critic. We’ll save you our own take.
Also important to us is disease and blight resistance. New England can be a difficult region for tomato growers.
Here’s a sampling of what we’ve cultivated, eaten, and even dried, canned, or bagged frozen.
And we haven’t even touched on some fine “black” tomatoes.

Food truck, Belfast, Maine

After such a spread, there will be no need for dinner later.

I remember hearing the poet Gary Snyder back in the late ‘70s talking about his years in Japan and some of the cuisine he discovered, not that he exactly used the artsy menu term.
Sushi? My, how times have changed! I just wish we had a seafood bar of note here in Sunrise County.
Even if I do create a rather acclaimed sashimi.

It was a really good homemade Thai dinner, thank you!