
It was a really good homemade Thai dinner, thank you!
You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall

It was a really good homemade Thai dinner, thank you!
Remind me that not all candy is chocolate and not all flowers are roses. But you might want to check out just what’s inside those heart-shaped red boxes tomorrow.
Here’s some perspective:
Thanks especially to Max at Dame Cacao. She just might be worth a Tendril of her own.

I get to sample the results of many experiments around here.

Where do fruit flies come from
even in the dead of winter?

One of my favorite comfort foods, especially the way my wife creates it.

It’s something that will get an improved setting once we tackle the kitchen renovations.

Incredibly tender and tasty, served here with rice, a carrot salad, and fresh parsley. In case you’re looking for a dependable holiday hit.
We’re well into the annual Nativity Fast now, and that means going without alcohol.
I’m not bound by Greek Orthodox discipline, even though one year we did try to follow the Advent diet, which is largely vegan. It will be a while before we do that again, admirable as it is.
For me, the big challenge is in admitting just how much I enjoy martinis. Very dry, gin, with an olive. Some fellow Quakers would definitely look askance at me on that count, though I did have a good Friend who was a definite exception.
Alas, he passed over before I ever got to sample one of his legendary concoctions.
Growing up in a teetotaling household does throw a curve on my outlook. I’m repressed enough as a result, even after hippie liberation. But then came the yoga, which frowned on both meat and alcohol even before any tipsiness.
More recently, here on Moose Island, I’ve found myself indulging come late morning rather than closer to bedtime. OK, I’m usually up and working on the keyboard before sunrise, too, so there are some adjustments in the daily schedule, especially when I get an afternoon nap in.
So, to keep me in control of my imbibing, rather than the other way around, I haven’t touched a drop since November 16, apart from a glass of Cotes du Rhone on Thanksgiving, a nod to the Orthodox relaxations on designated feast days.
Drinking is, after all, something that can become habitual, and there are good reasons to break certain habits or to strengthen one’s self-discipline.
But still, I am counting those days till Christmas.
Cheers!
The crews are out in our deep cold and often nasty winter weather, not just fishing but also shucking before landing their haul. Most of them head out before sunrise, as I hear from my home.
Are they crazy, as some of them contend, or just dumb, as others jest? Even both? It’s more than honest work, no question.
In our zone, boats are limited to a crew of three and a maximum harvest of two buckets of shucked scallops a day. That’s ten gallons, or nine to ten pounds total. Doesn’t look like much for a day’s haul, especially when you factor in paying for their labor, the boat, gear, fuel, insurance, and the fact it’s seasonal and very cold work, even before the regulations that hold draggers to three days a week. Try making a living on a three-day, limited season, income. Good luck!
Officially, ours is a 50-day run spread over four months, but in reality, an earlier cutoff kicks in on short notice to preserve the stock from depletion. In effect, “It’s over, guys,” arrives in the captain’s email, post haste. Last year, that eliminated 17 fishing days, a third of the season. More than an entire month, actually. By dumb luck, my daughter and I were at the docks just in time to stock up a gallon in our freezers.
At least we’re not managing a restaurant.
As this season? We’re holding our proverbial breath. My, those morsels do taste unbelievable.
(Divers have a different schedule, even more limited.)
Think of that when you wonder about the seemingly high price of heavenly shellfish.



Have I mentioned I love Japanese cuisine? This is at the ramen soup restaurant in Bangor.