All posts by Clif Graves

A Casserole For A Gray Week: Recipe For Rice And Salmon Casserole With a Yogurt Dill Sauce

Another day of rain, and the report from my friend Kate in New Hampshire is that the slugs are out in droves. Little beasties! I hope the Maine slugs stay away from my gardens. Here at the little house in the big woods, we have armies of slugs just waiting to attack my plants, and by summer’s end, my hostas are chewed to shreds.

But let us turn our attention to a more pleasant topic like, say, casseroles. Now, I know that casseroles have a bad reputation and deservedly so. Back in the old days, when I was a child, casseroles often consisted of cream of mushroom soup, noodles, hamburg, and, the finishing touch, Veg-all. How I dreaded suppers that featured this casserole.

So for years, I avoided making casseroles the way cats avoid water. I wanted nothing to do with them. But as time went by and my cooking skills improved, I began to wonder: Could I make a tasty casserole using good ingredients? I wasn’t sure, but it seemed as though it was a challenge worth exploring. After all, casseroles are warm, hearty, and thrifty. If casseroles could be made to taste good as well, then they would be a reasonable meal to make on week nights for the family.

I decided to start with the cream of mushroom soup substitute, which, of course, is a basic white sauce made with a roux of equal parts butter and flour. But the white sauce would need jazzing up, I knew, so I  added a chopped clove of garlic to the roux as it bubbled. A good move, but I found an all-milk white sauce to be still a little bland, and I decided to use half yogurt and half milk for the white sauce. The results were much better, a tangy white sauce with a nice touch of garlic. From here, there were many possibilities, but the route I took was with rice, peas, and canned salmon. Because I was using salmon, I added a teaspoon of dried dill—fresh would be even better—to the white sauce. The rest was pretty simple. Into a large mixing bowl, I emptied a can of salmon and to this I added frozen petite peas, cooked; cooked rice; and mushrooms, sliced and sautéed. I poured the white sauce over this mixture and stirred it all up. In a large buttered casserole dish, I alternated layers of the rice-salmon mixture with shredded cheddar cheese, ending with the rice-salmon mixture. On top, I put roasted almond slivers. Then, into a 350° oven it went, for 40 minutes or so, until the edges were bubbling.

The verdict from my Yankee husband, Clif? “Not too bad.” Which means good enough for seconds.

This is not a company meal—it is still too plain for that—but it is an acceptable family meal, one that won’t be dreaded and surreptitiously fed to the dog when no one is looking.

As a bonus, on a gray, damp day, there is something cozy about having a casserole bubbling in the oven. I know I’m getting all Betty Crocker here, but in a world that is often hard, cozy can be very nice indeed.

 

[amd-zlrecipe-recipe:6]

 

WALKING IN THE WOODS ON A GRAY DAY

After a spell of very warm weather, which made everything green and hopeful, central Maine has had a stretch of gray, drizzly weather. Very discouraging for dogs and humans and disastrous for birds trying to feed their young. The flying insects lie low during chilly weather, and this means no food for baby birds. My friend Barbara Johnson often mentioned how hard this weather was on the young birds and how many of them didn’t make it if the gray drizzle continued too long.

My gardens desperately need tending, but I am reluctant to work in them when they are so damp, where I might run the risk of spreading disease. So what to do? Put on some sturdy shoes—I wish I had some wellies—and take to the woods.

Our house is surrounded by woods that are part of my town’s watershed. Those woods could never be called a deep forest, but they are lovely and green and have trails going through them. The trails edge the Upper and Lower Narrows Ponds, which, in fact, look more like lakes than ponds. The trails are far enough from the road so that my dog, Liam, can go off-leash and sniff and mark territory to his heart’s content.

Yesterday, we went on a woods walk, and even though the day was gray, there were things to see.

Ferns unfolding
White violets
Stone walls. Once these woods were fields.

Everywhere there was water, and we had to cross several streams. Liam is not a water dog, and he always hesitates before getting his paws wet.

We were both happy when we came to a stream with a plank.

Into the forest we went, up a ridge that overlooked a ravine with a stream rushing through it. We tramped the woods for over an hour, and by the end, my feet were wet, and I was ready to head home for a cup of Earl Grey. But before we left the woods, there was one final treat—the ethereal song of a hermit thrush, a song I have not heard since last summer.

Spring is here, and despite the drizzle and the gray, it is most welcome.

 

SUNDAY BIKE RIDE

Our bikes in front of Pete’s Roast Beef

For one day a week—sometimes two when schedules allow—my husband, Clif, and I plan to have no-car days, when the car doesn’t leave the driveway, and we either walk or ride our bikes. As our friend Dawna Leavitt has observed, people shouldn’t be using oil (or gasoline) at all, but in central Maine, it is practically impossible to live without a car. However, Clif and I love to ride our bikes, and we use them for both pleasure and for transportation. We are also lucky in that we only live a mile from Winthrop Village, which has a nifty library, several places to eat, a grocery store, a post office, well, most of the things a village should have.

Last Sunday was a sunny but oh so windy day. Nevertheless, Clif and I deemed it to be a no-car day, and off we went on our bikes, to Pete’s Roast Beef, where we did not get roast beef. I have pretty much eschewed meat, but at Pete’s Roast Beef, they also have fried Maine shrimp on the menu. I ordered shrimp and so did Clif. Although they were frozen and breaded, the shrimp were quite good—sweet with a crispy exterior. As Sunday was a cheat day for me, we also had a large order of fries.

Sweet Maine shrimp

Thus fortified, off we set for a ride along Lake Maranacook. The wind did blow, sometimes pushing us sideways. Our fingers, in their half-gloves, were cold, and our noses were red and runny. The lake was a chill blue with choppy white caps, but along the road there were patches of spring flowers. Despite the wind, we pushed on and went 8 miles, a short but acceptable run.

On our way back, we stopped at Mia Lina’s, not for pizza—we do have our limits—but rather for whoopie pies to bring home and have with tea.

With fingers tingling, how good that tea and the whoopie pies tasted. But even though the ride was cold and windy, it was still a good ride. As I’m fond of saying, any day you can go on a bike ride is a good day. I should also add, any time you can leave your car in the driveway is a good day.

EAT AND LIVE LIKE THE SWISS

Last night, I had a discussion with Scott Davis, a neighbor who lives just up the road from me. His son Ian went to school with my eldest daughter Dee, and we exchanged information about the two “kids.” Ian married a women from Switzerland, who is fluent in English, French, and German, and at home she speaks French to her little children so that they will be bilingual. Both Scott and I agreed that this was a terrific thing to do, that nobody regrets being able to speak more than one language.

However, when I think of Switzerland, I quite naturally think of chocolate, and I mentioned this to Scott.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “They practically serve it at every meal. But you know what? The obesity rates in Switzerland are much lower than they are in the U.S.”

“Why do you think that is?” I asked.

“Well, when my wife and I went to visit our daughter-in-law’s family, we noticed that the Swiss walk everywhere, for fun and to get to places. Their portion sizes are much smaller, and their meals are leisurely. They don’t eat on the run.”

To sum up: The Swiss exercise more, eat less, and have more relaxed meal times. Sounds like a winning combination to me. The only thing I would add is that some countries make this healthy lifestyle easier for its citizens than other counties do. For example, it is my understanding that Switzerland has good public transportation and less sprawl. As a result, people don’t use cars as much and walk more.

Also, the Swiss government has mandated that all employees get 4 paid weeks of vacation a year. In the United States, the number of mandated paid vacation weeks is zero. Employers are not required to give their employees any paid vacation or holidays at all, and indeed I have worked in several jobs where I have had neither vacation time nor sick time. I know all too well that old, stressed overworked/underpaid feeling, and it is not a good one.

Let’s just say that it’s easier to have relaxed meals when you have a more relaxed schedule, with plenty of paid vacation time and some paid holidays thrown in to boot.

Now, this does not mean I think that individuals aren’t responsible for healthy and unhealthy habits. Quite the reverse—we are responsible for what we eat and how much we are exercise. But I also believe that we are societal beings as well as individuals, and some countries are better at promoting healthier, more relaxed societies than others are.

These countries, like Switzerland, usually have a high standard of living. They are not fringe countries where people are scrapping to survive for basic necessities.

And need I mention that Switzerland has universal health care for its citizens? No, but I’ll do so anyway.

So my question is, why don’t we do it more like the Swiss, when the benefits are so obvious?

 

 

SOME THOUGHTS ABOUT THE FINANCIAL CRISIS

Last night, I watched the first two parts of the excellent Frontline‘s four-part series on the financial crisis. No one does it like Frontline, where they tirelessly lay out the facts and put them together in a way that is comprehensible and enlightening. Last night was no exception even for someone like me, who is not exactly clever when it comes to money and math.

Frontline traced the origins of the crisis to a meeting in Florida in the early 1990s where young financial “geniuses” got together to figure out how financial institutions could avoid risk and make more money. From there, the law of unintended consequences, combined with greed and stupidity, kicked in, and some very powerful people came mighty close to wrecking the world’s economy and causing a world-wide depression.

It is beyond the scope of this post (and perhaps this writer) to lay out exactly how the financial crisis happened. I would encourage readers to watch this special and learn for themselves. I’m even seriously considering buying this documentary so that I can watch it and learn at my own slow pace.

But I do have a couple of thoughts. First, the people and firms responsible for this misery have not paid restitution. Just the reverse. They are as rich and as powerful as ever, and they continue to stack the deck, via laws and regulations, in their favor. In my opinion, all the financial institutions involved should have been forced to pay a financial crisis tax, large enough to do some good, to in turn help states deal with the shortfalls that came as a result of this crisis. I also think the individuals leading these firms needed to make restitution, not by going to jail, but instead by paying hefty—and I mean hefty—fines that could also go to alleviating some of the harm they caused. Hours and hours of community service would also have been appropriate. None of this will happen, but it should have, and it galls me that it hasn’t.

Second, and almost as galling, is that we are all part of this horrible system. There is no way we can opt out. Even the most avid, green back-to-lander is somewhat dependent on the money that comes from Wall Street. It might not be directly, although it is the rare family that will not rely on pensions or benefits funded from investments. But the dependence on Wall Street is there all the same.

For example, let’s say we have Joe and Josephine, alternative farmers, who grow, make, and barter pretty much everything they need. Such people are rare, but they do exist. (Often in a farming family, one person works outside the home to bring in a steady income and health insurance, and the other person tends the farm.) To continue with our mythical couple: The money Joe and Josephine need for operating expenses comes from the products they sell, and it really seems as though Joe and Josephine should be able to thumb their noses at Wall Street and the rest of the world. Yet, Joe and Josephine are still a part of the system because they are dependent on the rest of us, whose jobs, at various levels, depend on the financial system. Without us to buy their products, there would be no Farmers Joe and Josephine.

Perhaps I’m being cynical. Maybe by buying local and second hand, by reusing and recycling, we can at least slow down the system and do some good. I don’t know. What I do know is that it is both frustrating and scary that the shadowy men and women of the financial world should have so much power to ruin so many lives, not just in our country but also around the world.

I wish the Occupy Movement the best of luck. They are going up against formidable and dangerous opponents.

 

EARTH DAY WEEKEND—THE BIRTHDAY

The birthday girl and her husband, Mike

As I mentioned in a previous post, Earth Day—Sunday, April 22—was my daughter Shannon’s birthday, and a while ago, I asked her if she and her husband, Mike, would like to spend that weekend with us for a little extended birthday celebration. The answer? Yes, indeed, they would like that very much.

So here was the itinerary. On Saturday, we went to the Red Barn in Augusta for some of their delectable seafood and fried chicken. I have often extolled the virtues of the Red Barn—the quality of their food, their prices, and their service. (A lobster roll, chock full of claw and tail meat, is $11.95.) The Red Barn also pays their help a decent wage, a rarity in the restaurant/retail world. Now, their food definitely falls into the treat category, but a healthy diet can include a once a week treat. I am a testament to this regime. (Over the past year, with a once a week treat day, I have lost 50 pounds.)

At the Red Barn, Shannon and I had lobster rolls, my husband, Clif, had mixed seafood, and Mike had chicken. Oh, how good it all was. After this feast, we headed to Waterville, to Railroad Square Cinema, to see Coriolanus, with Ralph Fiennes acting the lead role and also directing. While this fierce, intense movie was neither fun nor pleasant, it was certainly well done and worth seeing. I would count it as one of the best movie adaptations of a Shakespeare play. But be warned! The movie is bloody and violent.

On Sunday—Earth Day and Shannon’s birthday—we had a waffle brunch. In my humble opinion, Clif makes some of the best waffles in central Maine, and we had them with Kate’s Butter and Mike Smith’s maple syrup. A real Maine breakfast, as we also had bacon from Wholesome Holmstead. After brunch, we went on a walk, played a movie trivia game, and then settled in for the main event—fish on rice drizzled with a ginger-garlic marinade and baked in a foil packet in the oven. Unfortunately, the picture does not do justice to this elegant but easy meal. This fish dish is a Moosewood recipe, and it is one of our favorite celebratory meals. Clif and Mike had haddock, and Shannon and I had salmon.

Presents followed as well as cake and ice cream. All too soon the weekend was over, and it was time for Mike and Shannon to go back to South Portland.

It’s funny how the passage of time really does seem relative. When life or events are boring or, worse yet, hard, the minutes and hours just drag. However, when a weekend is filled with fun events, the time seems to rush by faster than it should.

That was the case with this weekend, a delight from beginning to end.

Happy birthday, Shannon!

 

EARTH DAY WEEKEND—THE POTLUCK

A busy but oh-so-good Earth Day weekend. So busy that I’m going to devote two separate posts to the weekend—one post for the Winthrop Green Committee’s potluck and the other for the festive birthday weekend we hosted for our daughter Shannon.

In short, the potluck, held at Winthrop High School, was a smashing success. Lots of very good food and much of it from local sources, which is a challenge in April, when fresh, local veggies are far and few between. Among other things, we had salads made from greens grown in a cold frame; deviled eggs and a quiche made with local eggs; local strawberries—frozen and thawed, of course—for dessert; ice cream made from local milk; mashed potatoes with goat cheese; chili made with local beef, sausage, and kidney beans; and pasta and cheese made with local butter, milk, and cheese.

Truly, it was inspiring to see what could be made from food that was available from Maine.

Equally good was the conversation, much of which revolved around food. (No surprise!) One topic was how food likes and dislikes were often a matter of taste, and I told of two foods—cilantro and goat cheese—that I initially didn’t like at all but have come to love. How does that happen? How do you go from not liking a food to loving it so much that you crave it? A curious process that shows just how mutable taste can be. Initially, I had the common complaint about cilantro—too soapy, too strong—but I kept eating it because I am of the firm opinion that food fussiness belongs to children, not to adults. Suddenly, something clicked, and I became absolutely besotted with cilantro, using it in foods whenever I could. The same thing is true with goat cheese, which tasted too “goaty” to me. (A silly description, I know.) But as I did with cilantro, I kept eating goat cheese, and now when I am served goat cheese and crackers, I am as greedy an eater as the next person.

Another topic we discussed: Could Winthrop feed itself? The answer was yes and no. Right now, Winthrop does not produce enough food to feed its 6,000 people, and as Farmer Kev has discovered, finding open land for farming in Winthrop is not easy. However, Anne Trenholm, from Wholesome Holmstead, observed that once upon a time, Winthrop had little mills and factories where food was processed. So it is possible, but it would require a lot of planning and very mindful use of land.

As the price of oil goes up, will we return to local plants that grind, freeze, and can food? It’s my guess that we will.

We also talked about having another local food event, perhaps in the fall, to coincide with the harvest. I hope we do. I just love these local food potlucks.

Finally, special thanks must go to Steve Knight, fellow “green bean,” scrounge extraordinaire, and Winthrop High School teacher. Not only did Steve unlock the high school for us, but he also brought table clothes and reusable utensils and plates for people to use. After the dinner was done, he took the plates and utensils back home to be washed.

Many thanks, Steve!

EARTH WEEKEND

As I mention every year at this time, Earth Day is a very special day for us. Not only is it a time to honor this beautiful blue planet we live on, but Earth Day is also my daughter Shannon’s birthday. As Earth Day is Sunday, the weekend will be filled with special events—a local foods potluck tonight; a special meal for Shannon, along with cake and gifts, of course; and most probably a movie at Railroad Square, either The Secret World of Arriety or Coriolanus. (Being the birthday girl, Shannon will decide.) And, as if all this weren’t enough, we’ll be sliding in a trip to the Red Barn, a local restaurant that not only has some of the freshest fried seafood in Maine but is also one that actually pays its help a decent wage. And they’re thriving, the owners included!

I hope to take plenty of pictures to share on the blog.

In the meantime, I want to wish readers a very happy and thoughtful Earth Day. While I’m a firm believer in societal action, I think that individual choices matter, too, and it does no good to spout environmental platitudes while at the same time crunching through resources as though they are infinite. We all must examine our own habits of consumption, and my own simple goal is to bike more and drive less. In hilly central Maine, this can be quite a challenge. Busy lives also make it difficult, and, at times, even in Maine, the traffic can be daunting. Nevertheless, my plan is to use my bike as much as I can, not only for pleasure, which it certainly is, but for transportation as well.

Accordingly, on Thursday I pedaled to Wholesome Holmstead, about 6 miles away. For the potluck, I decided to bend my “no meat” rule and buy Wholesome Holmstead’s ground beef and sausage for my chili. (I still haven’t hit upon a vegetarian recipe that I really like.) Wholesome Holmstead’s meat is as local as can be, and the animals have a good life before they are slaughtered. A compromise, to be sure, but not a bad one.

And what a pretty ride. The grass was green, the birds were singing, and, yes, there was one challenging hill, but I am happy to report that I did not have to resort to grampy gear. When I came home, lunch sure tasted good.

Again, happy Earth Day to all. Stay tuned for pictures.

 

THE NEW YORK TRIP: PART II—THE FOOD

The pumpkin bread, in one piece

First of all, the pumpkin bread survived the trip. Tucked in a Ziploc bag and cushioned between the clothes in my suitcase, the pumpkin bread traveled by car, bus, and subway to Brooklyn, where it became the center piece of our brunches. Each morning in our daughter Dee’s small (this is New York, after all) bright kitchen, we had scrambled eggs, pumpkin bread, tea, and coffee to fuel us for our excursions. After such a brunch, we were ready to go to Manhattan, where on Saturday we would walk the High Line and on Sunday we would go to the Museum of Modern Art.

Dee has lived in New York City for 12 years and in her current apartment for 6 or 7 years. This means we have acquired some food traditions when we visit her. Just around the corner from her apartment building is a take-out Chinese restaurant, which beats anything that central Maine has to offer. Usually we arrive on a Friday, and as soon as we drop off our bags in Dee’s apartment, we head around the corner to order Chinese food for our supper. This time we ordered succulent steamed vegetable dumplings for us all, tofu with vegetables in a tasty sauce for Dee and me, and some kind of spicy chicken dish for Clif.

For dessert, Dee had bought cupcakes from a shop near her office, and these cupcakes were so amazing that we decided that we needed to add them to our Friday-night eating repertoire. They were chocolate turtle cupcakes, piled high with a caramel-nut topping. Just thinking about that rich topping and the moist cupcake makes my mouth water.

What a cupcake!

Now, cupcakes aside, it is a well-known fact to family and friends that I am a donut fiend. When it comes to sweets, they are at the top of my list, and a good donut fills me with joy. Before going to New York, I had checked the New York Times for places to eat, and lo and behold, I came across a place called The Doughnut Plant, which got a critic’s pick. There is one in Chelsea, not far from the High Line, and as the ride from Brooklyn to Manhattan takes an hour or so, what better way to further fuel our walk than by stopping for a donut first? As it turned out, there was no better way. Fresh, soft, flavorful, with both conventional and unconventional flavors, these donuts deserve their critic’s pick status. I got a coconut cream donut—square, as it turned out—and Clif and I wondered how in the world these donuts were so perfectly filled. Clif got a sesame donut, and he decided that this was a little too unconventional for a donut and that bagels are a better fit with sesame seeds. The donuts are pricey—mine was over $3—but who cares when they are this good? Another food tradition to add to our list.

Ah, donuts
The coconut cream

After the High Line, we walked to Greenwich Village to have a late lunch at a vegetarian restaurant called BoGo and then to a movie—the excellent Kid with a Bike—at IFC. All told, we probably walked at least 6 miles that day, and after the movie we were ready to head back to Brooklyn for what will become another tradition—a plowman’s lunch of cheese, crackers, and fruit at Dee’s apartment.

Dee is lucky in that there is a good-size grocery store at the end of her block. Even luckier, not far from the grocery store, there is an Italian bakery that sells fresh, crunchy, creamy cannolis, which, you guessed it, have become another food tradition when we visit.

Oh, my! Just thinking about our food adventures makes me smile. I expect that one of the reasons why I love New York is that there is so much good food close by. In central Maine, there are good places to eat, but they are seldom just around the corner, and, if I am to be honest, the places are far and few between. Unfortunately, the Augusta area has become chain-land, where places such as Ground Round and The Olive Garden predominate. Good for the wallet, as these places are not in the least tempting, but not so good for the palate.

In October, we’ll be going back to New York City to visit Dee, and until then I’ll be dreaming about donuts and Chinese food and cannoli. And, maybe, if we can convince daughter Dee, there will be a bike ride through Central Park to burn off some calories.

My kind of dumpling truck

 

 

 

 

THE NEW YORK TRIP: PART I—The Highline

"Ma" & "Pa" resting on the High Line

On Monday, Clif and I returned home from our weekend trip to New York City, where we had visited with our daughter Dee. Over the weekend, the weather was perfect—sunny and warm—and we did plenty of walking. Good thing, because we did plenty of eating, too. What a great city! Of all the cities I’ve visited, New York is my favorite. (All right, maybe it ties with Paris for first place.) The vitality and the tremendous diversity never fail to impress me, and although I’m a “country girl,” I really do love New York City.

I have decided to write about the New York trip in two parts, so that I could post plenty of pictures. The first part is what you might call a digression and really isn’t about food at all. But since this is a blog, I feel as though I have the right to digress now and then.

On Saturday, Clif, Dee, and I walked the High Line, which I’ve wanted to do for some time now. According to their website, “The High Line was built in the 1930s, as part of a massive public-private infrastructure project called the West Side Improvement. It lifted freight traffic 30 feet in the air, removing dangerous trains from the streets of Manhattan’s largest industrial district.” However, in 1980, trains stopped being used on the High Line, and in 1999, when the High Line was slated to be demolished, a group formed to save the High Line and to turn it into a public park. That group—the Friends of the High Line—works in partnership with New York City.

The High Line is about a mile-and-a-half long, and to say that it gives pedestrians a bird’s eye view of the city doesn’t begin to capture the appeal of this unique use of an existing space that allows city dwellers a chance to walk and linger outside. The following is from the FAQ section of the High Line’s website, and it beautifully sums up the value of the High Line: “The High Line is a monument to the industrial history of New York’s West Side. It offers an opportunity to create an innovative new public space, raised above the city streets, with views of the Hudson River and the city skyline. It also offers a hopeful model for industrial reuse for other cities around the world.”(The emphasis is mine.)

In the United States, we place a high premium on wilderness, and it is entirely appropriate to work hard at preserving large tracts of land for wild plants and animals. What we are not so good at is creating public places—parks—where everyone can enjoy the sun and the sky and trees and flowers and, yes, even the grass. In some environmental circles, the notion of a park is even looked down on, and in my opinion this is a very misguided attitude. In the not too distant future, our planet will have 9 billion people on it, and millions of these people will be living in small apartments in big cities. These people will need a place where they can get outside and feel the wind on their faces, where they can walk or have a picnic or just sit in the sun. In a city, horizontal space at ground level is at a premium, but when you go up, there are many more possibilities, and the High Line illustrates how such a space can be well loved and well used.

On the day we went, the High Line was packed. There were tourists aplenty—like me and Clif—snapping away with their little cameras. And why not? How often, surrounded by flowers and trees and grass, do you get to walk up high among the buildings? My guess is, not very often. But along with the tourists there were also lots of local folks—some having picnics in the many spots set out with benches and some pushing enormous baby carriages. As Clif observed, “They didn’t bring those carriages on the plane.” No, they didn’t. There were also plenty of families out with small, running children who could sprint safely, with high walls to keep them safe and no traffic to worry about.

Again, there was that wonderful diversity—young, old, American, foreign, white, black, male, female.

So if you ever find yourself in New York on a nice sunny day, talk a walk on the High Line. We’re certainly glad that we did.

Walking down the High Line
A place for flowers and trees
A place for flowers and trees
A place for birds