Last night, I went to a Food Writers Meet-Up hosted by Christine Burns Rudalevige. Maine is awash in all things food, from restaurants to farmers’ markets to speciality stores to community supported agriculture. In such a food-rich environment, food writers flourish, and it was certainly interesting to get together with people who are so passionate and knowledgable about food. Among other topics, there was much talk about the recent influx of good restaurants in Maine. In Brunswick alone, there are over 30, and Portland, the Babylon of Maine, is a haven for restaurants.

These conversations, of course, led me to think about food in Maine. While it is true that the uptick in good restaurants and speciality stores is a relatively recent event and does correlate to the immigration of those from away, food and cooking have always been of major importance to Maine.

Maine has a rich agricultural history. In the mid-1800s, the state produced so much grain that it was considered the bread basket of New England. Every town in central Maine—and other communities, too, I’m sure—had apple orchards, and remnants of these orchards can be seen in scattered trees by the side of the road. Sugaring and maple syrup have a long tradition in Maine, and in rural towns, many people, not just farmers, had big gardens. Even in the 1960s and 1970s, home cooking was the norm—most people did not go to restaurants—and as I have pointed out in a recent post, obesity was not a problem. We ate prodigious amounts, but we got a lot of exercise, which flowed naturally from our active lives. Then there was the sea, still bountiful, not yet overfished but heading in that direction.

I cannot deny that the food Mainers ate and cooked was plain and unpretentious, often made with eggs they raised and vegetables they grew. Biscuits, muffins, baked beans. Roast chicken, roast beef, corn on the cob. Lots of greens. Carrots and potatoes. Ham. This is the tradition I came from, and it has influenced the way I cook—plain, honest, and with real ingredients. (I will admit that I have jettisoned the tics of the 1960s—cream of mushroom soup and Veg-all. I still hate them, and I always will.)

At this food gathering, as a humble home cook, I felt a little like a plain Jenny Wren among cardinals, blue birds, and gold finches.  As the conversation turned to Julia Child and fancy cheeses, I realized that along with the Maine tradition of local food, my cooking affinities were with Moosewood and the organic movement. While I admire Julia Child, I have never aspired to cook in the “French Chef” style.

My favorite cheese? Cheddar. I might have added that a big block in the refrigerator is perfect when the wolf is at the door, which it has been and still is for many Mainers. Shredded cheddar in casseroles and in macaroni and cheese. Sliced for grilled cheese sandwiches. A lowly cheese, perhaps, but tart, tangy, and good for many things.

However, what I lacked in sophistication, I made up with appetite, and I think I earned my moniker as a good eater. I ate my way through potato and leek soup, glazed bacon, stuffed dates, sugared cranberries, delectable cheeses I was totally unfamiliar with, and a lemon honey so good I could have eaten it all by the spoonful. There was a brittle made with pine nuts and rosemary, so crunchy, nutty, and spicy that I felt as though I were a cat next to a bowl of catnip. (I knew I had overdone it with the gluttony when Christine asked me if I wanted to take the rest of the brittle home.)

While we all brought things, Christine provided much of the food—such as that wonderful brittle—and let’s just say that this woman  can cook. She teaches cooking classes at Stonewall Kitchen in York, and if you live within driving distance, then do not hesitate to take a class taught by Christine.

But just being at this gathering was an education for this home cook.