You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall
Where, for heaven’s sake, would this place be? We don’t have a lot of options in our remote rim of Maine.
And then I was told the restaurant was a late and lamented site a block from my home, now reincarnated as an echo of the grill and bar next door. Only, perchance, a shade better.
Well, as a reaction, I did have an appropriate Greek slang expression I’d found earlier when researching background for my novel What’s Left, not that I’ll quote it here.
Lowbush, rather than high. Sunrise County is the world capital. This tray is about to be frozen for later use.
The Phoenix has a devoted following and some fine views.
Confession. I rarely eat hamburger. Maybe it’s a vestige of my stretches of being vegetarian or even the tasteless rock-hard patties we had when growing up. If I eat beef, give me a thick medium-rare steak or juicy roast, at least.
But once or twice a year, I’ll definitely go for something like this. Especially while traveling.
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.
Jnana's Red Barn 