All posts by Clif Graves

People

The Finest Kind of Day: Lunch with Susan and Gordon, Dinner with Shannon and Mike, and New Earrings in the Mail

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Saturday was one those finest kind of days, as we say in Maine, where the whole day was filled with one delight after another. First, we met with our friends Susan Poulin and Gordon Carlisle, for lunch at Nosh in Portland and then tea at Whole Foods. Susan and Gordon have managed to do the nearly impossible—make a living through their artistic endeavors. Gordon is a talented painter, muralist, set designer, and composer. He also does funky collages. Heck, he can even sing really well. In my last post, I wrote about Susan, her alter ego Ida LeClair, and “Ida’s” new book, Finding Your Inner Moose.

Oh, the conversation just zipped along! So much so that we had to be reminded to study the menu so that we could order. But order we did, eventually, and in between ordering and eating, we talked about all the things I love to talk about—art, politics, movies, and personal history. Clif even slipped in a bit of computer talk. Gordon told us of a bike trek he went on—many years ago—through Europe. He carried portable art supplies with him, and along the way, he would stop and paint and send the paintings back home to sell.

“What a wonderful thing to have done,” I said.

“Yes,” Gordon replied. “And to have the time and the freedom.”

Something we don’t always have as we grow older, that’s for sure.

We talked about Susan’s book and the many readings she has done over the past several months.

One of the things I especially like about Gordon and Susan is that they are good listeners as well as good conversationalists. They asked us about our lives and our projects, too.

The food at Nosh was a mixed bag, at least for Clif and me. I really liked my burger, which included a garlic sauce, bacon, a fried egg, and blue cheese.

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My burger next to those wonderful fries

Clif was not as impressed with his Chinese barbecue pork sandwich—too much lettuce, not enough pork, and an insipid sauce. The fries, hand-cut and “dusted” with bacon, were a hit all around. Gordon asked me to take a picture of him pointing at a very pink beet dish on his plate, and so I did.

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It was also a bit pricey—$35 for two sandwiches, two soft drinks, and an order of fries. But never mind! Getting together with Susan and Gordon was such a blast that it made up for any culinary disappointments.

After that, it was over to our daughter Shannon and her husband, Mike’s, home for a delectable dinner of roast beef, carrots, and potatoes. Holly the puppy kept us entertained, and there was more movie talk.

A pretty much perfect day for Clif and me, but when I got home, what did I find but a lovely pair of earrings in the mail. They were designed by the talented Joan Vermette of Biddeford, Maine, and the name of her business is Biddeford Bead Lab.

I wore the earrings yesterday, and I am wearing them today. I love them so much that I will probably wear them tomorrow. Here is what they look like.

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Susan, Gordon, and Joan made me reflect on the various talented people I know, people who are living the creative life.  It is a pleasure to support them, in my own little way, to give their presents as gifts, whenever I can, and to even buy myself a thing or two from time to time.

Let’s hear it for the creative life. It’s not always an easy life, but it is a life that is rich in many ways.

 

Books

Book Review: Finding Your Inner Moose by Susan Poulin

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IMG_2932In December, when my husband, Clif, broke his wrist before Christmas, it wasn’t long before I started feeling frazzled. By a stroke of organizational good luck—unusual for us—all the presents had been wrapped, but there was still a lot of cooking and cleaning to be done. Fortunately, I could rely on Ida LeClair for advice, who came up with a list of “December De-Stressors,” one of which involves buying pre-made items from the store when you don’t have time to bake or cook. Yes, homemade bread is best, but it was a great relief to just buy bread and English muffins in between chauffeuring Clif to work and to the doctor’s office.

Then there was the time, earlier in the year, when I needed new bras.  I quite naturally turned to Ida, who advised buying two black bras as well as a flesh-colored one. I did as she suggested, and I have been completely happy with my choices.

Clif recently observed, “I’m beginning to think you learned everything you know from Ida.”

While he might be exaggerating, he does have a point, but there is only one slight problem with my reliance on Ida LeClair—she doesn’t actually exist. She is the alter-ego of my friend Susan Poulin, a very funny and talented performer who has created a series of theatrical works revolving around Ida. (If any of Susan’s shows come to a theater near you, then don’t hesitate to see them. Not all of them are about Ida, but they are all terrific.)

Susan’s most recent endeavor is a humorous advice book written from Ida LeClair’s point of view, and that book is Finding Your Inner Moose: Ida LeClair’s Guide to Livin’ the Good Life. Ida, who is Franco-American and from the fictional Maine town of Mahoosuc Mills, lives in a “tidy and tastfully decorated double-wide with high school sweetheart Charlie and adorable dog Scamp.” She works as a cashier at the local grocery store, and her best friends are Celeste, Rita, Betty, Dot, and Shirley. She also has a niece, Caitlin, who is as “cute as a button,” and is into “New Agey stuff” such as feng shui. (Ida refers to Caitlin’s New Age interests as “woo-woo.”)

With Caitlin’s help—woo-woo or not—Ida discovered that the moose was her totem, her symbol. (Actually, the moose chose Ida, but that is a story unto itself and best told in Ida’s inimitable voice. So read the book for more details.) Caitlin informs her aunt, “Moose teach us to value ourselves and to reward ourselves for a job done well done.” This certainly clicked with Ida, and she was “off and running” with her Inner Moose book.

Each chapter in Finding Your Inner Moose covers a topic—marriage, friendship, aging, attitude at work, even death. Here is Ida’s take on aging. “”There’s something to be said for aging gracefully, but you don’t hear much about that nowadays. It’s more trendy to fight aging tooth and nail. But I say, let’s bring the ‘aging gracefully’ concept back” Here is her advice about diet and health: “Start from where you are…If you’re waiting for your life to be perfect before you start living it, your life will consist of lots of waiting and not much living.” Then there is the title of her chapter on marriage, which needs no explanation at all: “A Good Marriage Starts with Please and Thank You.”

In each chapter, Charlie and Caitlin get their say, with a little section of their own—Straight Talk from the Barcalounger and Caitlin’s New Age Nook. Again, no explanation needed. Charlie’s masculine voice and Caitlin’s “New Agey” voice make nice counterpoints to Ida’s own earthy voice, which is sassy but wise and warm.

It is not every day that you find a humorous book that is also an honest-to-God self-help book, one that makes you laugh and learn at the same time. Finding Your Inner Moose is such a book. As Charlie puts it, Ida “just loves giving advice to people, whether they ask for it or not.”

That might be the case, but when Ida gives advice, I listen.

 

Books, Food for Thought, Recipes

Creamed Tuna Revisted—And Some Thoughts on How to Cook a Wolf

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In Maine, we are having what might be called a good, old-fashioned cold spell, where the temperature barely rises above zero during the day and goes well below zero at night. Add a brisk wind and you have weather so chilly that people barely want to go out to get their mail, much less go for a walk. A hard time for our dog, Liam, who is still energetic at 8 and loves to run and bark in the backyard. Despite the cold, Liam nevertheless gets his chance to run and bark as every day I have to bring in three wheel barrow’s worth of wood for our furnace.

This brisk weather is a good time to make a cup of tea and settle on the couch with a book. This January, I am rereading M.F.K. Fisher’s How to Cook a Wolf, first published in 1944. Despite the stiff competition from an increasingly crowded field, Mary Frances Kennedy Fisher (1908–1992) remains one of America’s best food writers. W. H. Auden noted, “I do not know know of anyone in the United States who writes better prose.” This is high praise coming from a great poet, and it is no exaggeration. M.F.K. Fisher wrote beautifully, and, just as important, she had something to say.

How to Cook a Wolf is fortunately metaphorical rather than literal—there are no instructions on how to butcher and roast a wolf.  The book was written during World War II, and it addresses how one might live creatively in a time of shortage. In the second chapter, Fisher quotes her grandmother: “I see that ever since I was married, well over fifty years ago, I have been living on a war budget without realizing it! I never knew before that using common sense in the kitchen was stylish only in emergencies.” Fisher notes that although her “grandmother’s observation need not have been so sardonically phrased…probably it was true then…and it is even more appropriate now.”

Almost 70 years later it is still true. Common sense belongs in the kitchen (and the rest of the house) in good times as well as hard ones. In addition, Fisher’s frugal but common-sense tips are particularly relevant today.

Many of us, even in this richest country in the world, feel as though the “wolf is at the door.” Expenses go up, but for most of us, salaries remain the same. What was once a comfortable income is no longer quite as comfortable. Bills must be paid. Pennies must be pinched. Extras—such as meals out and plays—are often eliminated. While those who have jobs and health care have much to be grateful for, there is no denying the feeling that things aren’t quite as good as they once were, except for the few at the top, where life is better than ever. With Earth’s dwindling resources, increased automation at the work place, and a still-rising population, it is my guess that the wolf will be at the door for quite a while. It seems to me the trick is to acknowledge this and to still live as well as possible. (And, of course, to elect politicians who will address the gross inequality in this country.)

These observations, in turn, bring me to creamed tuna, a thrifty dish my mother often served for supper. She was a child of the Great Depression and knew a thing or two about making do with little. My mother often said of her own grandmother: “Even when it seemed as though there was hardly anything in the cupboards or refrigerator, my grandmother could still put together a warm, tasty meal.”

Cream sauces are not very much in vogue right now, but I must admit to having a fondness for them. Smooth, warm, rich with butter. Really, what’s not to like? All right, they are a little plain and old-fashioned, but what wrong with that?

I loved my mother’s creamed tuna, which she usually served over potatoes. (We are Mainers, after all.) But I wondered, could I jazz it up just a little, so that it would have extra zing? Yes, I could, with garlic and dill, nice additions which lifted the cream sauce from tasty to very tasty. And how about a little sour cream or yogurt to replace some of the milk? Ditto.

Creamed tuna is definitely a family dish and probably not one you would serve to company. However, when the thermometer barely rises above zero, and the wolf seems to be nuzzling the door, creamed tuna on potatoes (or toast) tastes, as my Yankee husband would put it, pretty darned good.

Note about the tuna: Tuna, as I’m sure readers know, can be high in mercury, with albacore being the worst. Chunk light tuna, which is often yellow fin, is lower in mercury and the tuna of choice in our house. Still, it is only an occasional treat for us.

 

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Food for Thought, News, Recipes

Blueberry Bran Muffins on Inauguration Day

IMG_2892Monday was a fine, cold day, perfect for making blueberry bran muffins to go with soup—Campbell’s Tomato, one of my weaknesses and the only canned soup I really like. After having made the muffins and heated the soup, I settled in the living room with my husband, Clif, so that we could watch the presidential inauguration while we ate our lunch.

There were all the usual things that go with an inauguration—the ceremony, the rituals, the swearing in, the first lady and daughters decked out in their finery, the patriotic songs—done beautifully this time by various singers. (Where else would you hear, on the same stage, the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir and James Taylor?) A Maine poet—Robert Blanco from Bethel—read a poem that was full of everyday things and working people.

But there were some surprises, too, chiefly President Obama’s speech, which was unabashedly liberal—or progressive, if you will. Despite the luminous delivery, it seemed to me that the president was throwing down the gauntlet to the Republicans. After four years of trying to work with Republicans and having terrible results, Obama made few references to bipartisanship in his speech. Instead, the president spoke of the need for collective action, of how freedom “was not reserved for the lucky, or happiness for the few.” President Obama noted that truths might be self-evident but they were not self-executing, that we cannot succeed when only a few do very well and when many can hardly make it. He affirmed gay rights, voting rights, and immigration rights. By gum, he even mentioned climate change, sustainable energy, and the environment.

As the columnist Mark Shields put it, this speech marked a change in attitude, from the “me” generation to the “we” generation. I agree, and it is long overdue.

I realize as well as anyone else that a speech is just words and that actions and results are what really count. Still, words do matter. They signal intent, and I felt more hopeful after hearing this speech than I have in a long time. Stiff opposition will likely follow, but President Obama just might surprise us with how much he is able to accomplish. After all, he passed a health care bill, something no previous president has been able to do.

Finally, as with election night when Obama was elected, I was struck by the beautiful diversity of the event. In America, there has always been diversity, it just wasn’t allowed to be visible. Yesterday it was, on the podium and in the crowd. And it was good to behold.

Note: This bran muffin recipe, one of the best I’ve tasted, has already been posted on A Good Eater. But because the recipe section isn’t exactly organized—Clif, are you reading this?—I’ve decided to post it again.

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Recipes

Spicy Beans for a Cold Month

Last night, I was rooting around my refrigerator to see if anything should be used before it went bad, and I found the following items: a wrinkled sweet red pepper that had no mold and about a quarter cup of cilantro salsa, again with no mold. What to do with them? In my cupboard, I had a can of black beans, and my freezer yielded a cup of frozen corn. Well, why not make some spicy beans? But rather than having them over rice, which would be delicious, I would use them as a stuffer for baked potatoes. Last fall, I bought 50 pounds of organic Yukon Golds from Farmer Kev, and although the potatoes are still good, they are sprouting eyes, so now I am planning to use potatoes in a variety of ways.

The ingredients
The ingredients

Before I get started on the actual recipe, I want to emphasize that this is one of those adaptable dishes that can accommodate many kinds of beans and various vegetables. Therefore, the following recipe should be used as a place to start as much as a recipe to follow. I used garlic to jazz up the beans, but onions would work, too. Or, if you wanted to get really bold, onions and garlic. If you have a hearty digestive system—alas, I don’t—go for it. It’s winter.

The cooking
The cooking

I always use my Yankee husband, Clif, as an indicator as to whether a dish is successful. These spicy beans not only got a “Pretty darned good” from Clif, but he also went back for seconds, using tortilla chips as a base for the beans. He liked these spicy beans so much that he suggested I make them especially for nachos. “That would give them some snap,” Clif said. (With the Yankee emphasis being on “some” rather than “snap.”)

Ready to eat
Ready to eat

It certainly would, and I just might make these beans for nachos on a cold Saturday night in January or February, when the snow crunches and squeaks underfoot, the nose pinches when you take a deep breath, and the frost doesn’t leave the windows, even during the day. Warm inside, cold outside. A cozy time of the year.[amd-zlrecipe-recipe:13]

 

Community

The 72nd Maine Agricultural Trade Show: Fedco and Luce’s Meats

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Last week, my husband, Clif, and I went to the 72nd Maine Agricultural Trade Show at the Civic Center in Augusta. On a cold January day, it lifts the spirits to walk around and look at all things agricultural. Maine, a rural state, is blessed with a vibrant food culture, which in turn supports farms and farmers. This trend is heartening, a very bright spot in a state where poverty and inequality are high. After all, what could be more essential to life and health than good food produced by Maine farmers?

There were many exhibits to look at—over 150—but there were two that especially attracted my attention. The first was Fedco’s display of heirloom apples.  I had heard of only one—Northern Spy. The rest were unknown to me. What a wonderful diversity of shapes and colors.

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The big, red apple—Wolf River—in the lower right-hand corner really stood out, but apparently size doesn’t matter when it comes to apples. The man at the booth told me that these apples aren’t very flavorful and that they were mainly used for pies. “Put in enough sugar and spices, and any apple tastes good, ” he said. (Unfortunately, I did not get the man’s name.) Wolf River’s claim to fame is that you get a lot of apple after peeling it. Here is a closer look:

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Fedco also had T-shirts, and I promptly bought one. I will wear it not only when I am occupying my own yard but also when I am biking.

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Now, I am someone who loves it when food samples are available at a booth. After all, how do you know if something is going to be tasty until, well, you taste it? You don’t. And food that looks enticing in its package might not be as delectable when you actually eat it at home. Oh, yes, this has happened to me more than a few times. Thus, I nearly click my heals with joy when a vendor has samples, and when those samples are cooked pork, I feel as though I have hit pay dirt. (I’m not sure if it’s because of my Franco-American roots, but pork is my favorite meat.)

Luce’s Meats had a full array of sausage samples, including Breakfast, Maple Breakfast, Sweet, Hot, and Chorizo. Clif, of course, liked the Hot Sausage while I liked the Chorizo. However, we both agreed on the Maple Breakfast, and we went home with a frozen pound, which we plan to use at the end of the month when we have friends over for brunch.

Eric Chenard and Elaine Luce of Luce's Meats
Eric Chenard and Elaine Luce of Luce’s Meats

Finally, I have a thing for green John Deere tractors. I don’t know why. In general, I am not at all drawn to machines, but there is something about those green John Deeres that is irresistible to me. At the Ag Show, there was a huge, green John Deere tractor, and I just had to take a picture of it.

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Oh, how lovely and green it was. Just the tonic for winter, when spring seems so far away.

News

Walking on the Rail Trail at Dusk

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Last week, before the foggy weather hit, the dog and I walked on the Augusta Rail Trail at dusk. A lovely time of day. My favorite time, in fact. Augusta, the state’s capital, is not known for its beauty, but somehow, with the lights twinkling, it is beautiful. Even under the bridge.

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News

A Strange, New Year—Welcome, 2013

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IMG_2783This holiday season had rather strange bookends—in December, a couple of weeks before Christmas, my husband, Clif, fell down the front steps and broke his wrist. At the other end, on New Year’s Day, when our daughter Dee, who lives in New York, was slated to leave Portland by Concord bus, we learned that the station was closed because of a bomb threat. What to do? How would she get home?

In between, there were snow storms and good movies—The Hobbit, Les Misérables, Argo, Hitchcock, The Queen of Versailles, and Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry. We saw some of the movies at the cinema and some at home.

There were also gatherings with friends—one at our daughter Shannon’s house, where we had tacos with pulled pork, beans, and zucchini and mushrooms. Man oh man do I love this dish. We were joined by our friends Bob and Kate, whom we don’t see nearly as often as we would like. (They live out of state.)

On New Year’s Eve, our friends Joel and Alice came over, and I made Marjorie Standish’s oven-cooked beef stew. This is one of my favorite ways of making beef stew. Somehow, the slow cooking in the oven—at 300 degrees—gives this stew a terrific taste that just can’t be replicated in a cockpot. As we don’t eat beef very often, this hearty, homey stew is a real treat for us. I also made a lentil soup, from a recipe in Arthritis magazine, for Dee, who is a vegetarian. Unfortunately, this soup, while edible, was not as tasty as I had hoped.

“It’s best to stick with Moosewood,” Dee advised, and of course she is right. Still, it is good to try new recipes from time to time, even if they don’t always turn out the way you might want.

What else did we eat? On Christmas Eve, a cheddar cheese soup, with broccoli and tortellini. On Christmas Day, stuffed shells using a recipe from Cook’s, but more important, using Sorento ricotta cheese. Most ricotta is bland beyond endurance, and before I made the shells, I had Clif do some ricotta research, something he could do easily with a broken wrist. His findings? Most commercial ricottas—including Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s brands—are bland beyond endurance. Clif’s research indicated Sorento ricotta is an exception. Very good advice! With Sorento ricotta—a little sweet, a little tangy, and smooth—those stuffed shells were real gems.

And what about Dee? Did she make it out of Portland on New Year’s Day, despite the bomb threat? She did indeed. By the time her bus was scheduled to leave, the station had been thoroughly searched and no bombs were found. Dee’s bus left right on time.

In the parking lot was a camera man from one of the news stations—ABC, I think.

“Is the excitement over?” I asked as he began disassembling his camera.

“All over,” he said. “It was some homeless man with a knapsack. But no bomb.”

Well, thank goodness for that! What a strange, often scary world we live in. What to do but go forth as bravely as we can and take comfort in our friends and families, our soups, movies, and stuffed shells? Yes, I know there are many other things we can and should do, but most people can manage the small, homely acts that include generosity and the opening of their homes. To borrow from a science phrase, perhaps it is not sufficient, but it seems to me it is necessary.

 

 

News

The Day Before Christmas

‘Tis the day before Christmas, and good news abounds. My husband Clif’s broken wrist is healing nicely—no surgery necessary. Because of his wrist, I’ve had to scale back. Nevertheless, there is cooking and cleaning to be done, and I’m right on schedule.

The ice cream pies, made with homemade chocolate ice cream, are in the freezer.

For special little treats, I’ve made ginger snaps, chocolate-covered pretzels, and peanut butter balls.

Our daughter Dee, from New York, is with us, and today will be a day of wrapping presents, making stuffed shells and cheddar cheese soup, and doing the last bit of cleaning before Christmas, when our daughter Shannon and her husband, Mike, will join us in the morning. Then, in the afternoon, my brother, Steve, his wife, Rose, and their son, Patrick, will be coming as well.

A busy time but a joyous time on these dark days of the year, when the air is cold and the stars shine so brightly. I’ll probably bundle up after our dinner and take the dog up the road for a walk. All will be quiet and still. As I pass houses, Christmas lights will sparkle in the night. The dog will bark at noises only he can hear, and my little flashlight will guide us up the road.

Happy holidays to all! I’ll be on vacation next week and will resume blogging in the new year. May your season be filled with merriment and mirth as well as family, friends, and food.