All posts by Laurie Graves

I write about nature, food, the environment, home, family, community, and people.
Home, Nature

Tumbling Leaves, Warm Weather, and S’mores

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Such a mild November we are having. For this whole first week it has been so warm that we’ve needed no heat during the day. Around 6:00 p.m., Clif has started a fire in our wood furnace in the basement, and that has been enough to keep us warm until the next evening.

I have mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, it is great that we haven’t had to use any type of heat during the day. (As Mainers, we are prepared for the cold and have three sources of heat—electric, propane, and wood. At various times during the year, we use all three.) But this warm November weather is, well, just plain weird and is no doubt the result of climate change.

However, even though I take climate change very seriously, and Clif and I have worked hard to reduce our carbon footprint, I figure I might as well enjoy this warm weather while it is here.  Because paradoxically, climate change has also seemed to bring colder weather in the winter and lots and lots of snow.

In the yard, most of the gardens have been cut back, but a few valiant dwarf snap dragons are still in bloom. I can’t bring myself to pull the plants, and I’ll probably leave them until next spring.

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I have begun bringing in the various garden ornaments, but this little creature is still guarding the yard. Soon he will be down cellar with the others.

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While many of the trees are bare, and the yard is full of leaves just waiting to be raked, the leaves continue to fall. I was lucky enough to catch this oak leaf before it hit the ground.

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While oak leaves do not have the brilliant color of maple leaves, they have their own quiet beauty, especially when they are against a deep blue sky.

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Today, if the weather allows—the sky is overcast right now—I’ll rake the lawn around our firepit so that we can have a fire this weekend. On Saturday, Shannon,  Mike,and the dogs will be coming for a visit.

Who knows? We might even gather around the fire and have S’mores.

Food for Thought, Recipes

Tilapia Fish Casserole for an Autumn Supper

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IMG_0399Nowadays, in central Maine, it is dark by 5 p.m., and the days of barbecues and drinks on the patio are over for another year. I must admit that I miss those lovely warm evenings where we could sit outside and listen to the loons, owls, and other night noises.

Still, autumn has its consolations, and one of them is that the nights are now cool enough to enjoy warm, bubbly casseroles for supper. Over the years, I have developed several sauces for casseroles that don’t involve canned cream of anything. (In the past, I’ve written about my aversion to casseroles with canned cream of mushroom soup. Enough said.) The results, as my Yankee husband Clif might put it, are not too bad.

Chicken and vegetables are my usual choice of fillings for casseroles, but recently I started wondering how a fish casserole would taste. What would be the components?

First, of course, the fish, and here I am going to be somewhat of a noodge and urge readers to stay away from wild fish, which we humans are eating at such an alarming rate that the fish populations are seriously depleted. According to the marine biologist Sylvia Earle, “The few fish that really are good choices, I think, are catfish, tilapia and the variations on the theme of carp, the plant-eating creatures that…grow fast. They taste good.”

Accordingly, I chose tilapia, plant-eating fish that are grown in a closed system. The fish is mild but tasty and perfect for a casserole. (The leftovers are also mighty good as fish tacos. Thanks, Mary Jane, for showing me how to make them!)

Along with the fish there would be rice and petite peas. (Mushrooms, carrots, and/or celery would also be delicious, but for my first venture with this recipe, I decided to keep it simple.)

The sauce I would use for a binder would be a simple white sauce with the addition of garlic, dill, and cheese. I guess you could call it a cheesy dill sauce. For the starch, I used rice, which somehow just seems to go with fish.

A tip I learned from the chef Mario Batali was to heat the milk ahead of time before making a white sauce. This is an excellent tip and really cuts down on the time spent stirring the sauce.

As fish cooks quickly, I did not cook the fish ahead of time, the way I would with, say, chicken. The raw fish was cut into bite-sized chunks and laid on top of the rice. Next came the peas, some salt and pepper, more rice, and the white sauce. What about the top? Bread crumbs, of course, with gives a pleasing crunch to the casserole.

The results? “Pretty darned good,” Clif said.

Good enough for company?

“Yes.”

So there you have it—a fish casserole made with sustainable tilapia and a cheesy dill sauce that is not only a good supper for the family but is also good enough for company.

Pretty darned good, indeed.

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Fish Casserole with a Cheesy Dill Sauce
Serves 4 or 5

Ingredients

For the white sauce

  • 4 tablespoons of butter
  • 4 tablespoons of flour
  • 1 clove of garlic, minced
  • 2 cups of hot milk
  • 1 cup of grated cheese (I used cheddar, my go-to cheese)
  • 1 teaspoon of dried dill
  • Salt and pepper to taste

For the rest of the casserole

  • 1/2 pound of tilapia, cut in chunks
  • 1 (1/2) cups cooked petite peas (As noted above, many other vegetables could be added or substituted, as you like it.)
  • 3 cups of cooked rice
  • Salt and pepper, to taste
  • 2 slices of bread, torn into crumbs

Directions

For the white sauce

  1. Melt the butter and add the garlic, letting it sizzle for about 30 seconds. Add the flour and wisk for a minute or two until the roux is bubbly.
  2. Wisk in the hot milk then stir with a spoon until a line forms on the back of the spoon.
  3. Stir in the dill.
  4. Add the grated cheese and stir until melted.
  5. Taste and add salt and pepper, as desired.

For the casserole

  1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
  2. Butter a large casserole dish.
  3. Put half the rice in the dish.
  4. Arrange all the tilapia chunks on the rice.
  5. Sprinkle the peas or whatever vegetables you are using on top of the fish.
  6. Sprinkle with salt and pepper.
  7. Spread the rest of the rice on top of the fish and peas.
  8. Pour the cheesy dill sauce on top of the rice.
  9. Top with the bread crumbs.
  10. Bake for forty minutes or until bubbly around the edges.
Food for Thought, People

Wish Boxes, Friends, and Joni Mitchell

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The little greeter at Beth's house
The jolly greeter at Beth’s house

On Sunday, I traveled  north to visit my friend Beth. Along with two other friends, I was invited for lunch and to work on a craft project—wish boxes. This was a gathering I had looked forward to all week long, and even though I didn’t know the two other women, I was certain that friends of Beth would soon be friends of mine.

How right I was. Within minutes we were all chatting like old friends, and the comment was made, “We are now new best friends.”

After talking for a bit, we settled around Beth’s dining room table to make wish boxes. Beth had sprayed matchboxes silver and gold. She also provided pretty paper, ribbons, glitter, stars, hearts, little flowers, and various other little decorations for our wish boxes. The chatting ebbed as we focused on making our wish boxes.

When we were done, we put them together for a group picture.

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We were all pleased with our small creations, and I’ll be thinking of what little messages to put in my two boxes—the ones with hearts and stars in the upper left corner.

After we cleared up the craft materials, we had a lovely lunch that Beth had made for us—squash soup; zucchini bread; a carrot, coconut, and cashew salad; and various spreads. I brought an apple crisp, which we popped in the oven just before we sat down to eat our lunch.

John, Beth’s husband joined us, and there was more talk. When five kindred spirits get together, the conversation just flows.

The day had started rainy and gray, but as I headed home, the weather began to clear. The clouds skudded across the sky to reveal a deep blue. I listened to Joni Mitchell’s Court and Spark and was transported to my senior year in high school when I was in the throes of unrequited love. So much time has passed—over forty years—that the pain has been replaced by a pleasant melancholy as I remembered the longing.

The teenage years are such a tumultuous time. Every emotion is felt so deeply, so intensely. Then there is the awkwardness.  I remember saying what I shouldn’t have and not saying what I should have.  Literature, writing, and love swirled through me in a rough mix, and I am now old enough to look back with sympathy on the foolish girl I was. (The line from an R.E.M. song comes to mind: “I’ve said too much. I haven’t said enough.”)

All in all, Sunday was a special kind of day. Old friends, new friends, good food, good talk, a craft project, and a trip back in time on the way home as I listened to Joni Mitchell.

Who could ask for anything more?

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A bird in Beth’s garden
News

Of Ghosties and Ghoulies and…Halloween Frogs!

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Tomorrow is Halloween. Once upon a time at the little house in the big woods, we had lots of small ghosties and ghoulies come trick-or-treating. What fun it was! Clif often dressed in a long, black wizard’s robe as he passed out the candy, which filled a large wooden bowl that we set on the buffet by the side door. (In Maine, nobody uses the front door, and we are no exception.)

One year on a fine Halloween, Clif rigged up speakers that blared spooky music in the woods.  He also hung up “ghosts” in the trees, and they swayed back and forth in the breezy night. This was certainly a big hit with the trick-or-treaters.

But as our children grew,  and our friends’ children, too, the stream of trick-or-treaters slowed to a trickle and then dried up entirely. Every year, we turn on the porch light and have a bowl of candy ready, but no one comes. It makes us sad, but we understand. We do not live in a neighborhood, and nowadays, we don’t know many families with small children. (This, ahem, forces us to eat a lot of candy.)

As a child, I absolutely adored Halloween. Few parents made their children costumes, at least in the country village I lived in. We mostly had off-the-rack costumes that came with those plastics masks that made a child’s face sweaty even on the chilliest night.

Never mind! It was still a magical night. Off we would go with our little plastic pumpkins—the more ambitious trick-or-treaters carried pillow cases.  Our  village was so safe that we were allowed to go alone, with younger brothers and sisters and tow. We prowled the dark streets, stopping at every lighted house, and indeed nearly every house was lighted for us. Once in a while we would get the dreaded box of raisins, but mostly the adults understood that what we wanted was candy, and candy is what they gave us.

At home, my brother and I would empty our candy on the floor so that we could examine our loot. Usually we got the snack-size packages of Pom-Poms, Butter Fingers, and other goodies. But every once in a while some generous adult would give a full-size candy bar, and that was always a cause for celebration.  Then the bargaining would begin as my brother and I would trade the candy that we didn’t like. (Candy I didn’t like? Was that possible? When did I ever encounter candy I didn’t like? I suspect the trading was mostly instigated by my brother, who doesn’t have a sweet tooth and thus received candy that he wasn’t fond of.)

After the trading, I would have a glorious stash of candy, which I kept in my bedroom, where I could dip into it whenever I wanted without having to ask permission.  Such delicious freedom, and it only came once a year.

Well, no more trick-or-treating, no more trick-or-treaters. But we do have a few Halloween frogs to cheer us up. I’ve collected them from my gardens and have arrayed them on the porch along with leaves and little pumpkins.

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A happy halloween to all! If you are lucky enough to have little ghosties and ghoulies in your life, then I hope they receive many sweet treats.

Movies, People

Of Birthdays and Star Wars

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Today is my daughter Dee’s birthday. Happy birthday, Dee! (How good we could celebrate it with her when she came for a visit a couple of weeks ago.)

With a new Star Wars movie due this December, it somehow seems appropriate to reminisce about the original Star Wars movie. Thirty-eight years ago, Dee attended that first Star Wars movie when it came to the Bangor area in either July or August—here my memory fails me—and I was either seven or eight months pregnant with her.

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Readers, I have a confession to make. I was not eager to see Star Wars. I was hot, cranky, large, and uncomfortable. There would be a long line, I knew, and I did not want to stand in it. But Clif and a friend worked on me until I agreed to go. At the cinema, standing in that long line, I was so amazed by the crowd and the excitement that I forgot to be cranky.

The cinema, of course, was absolutely packed, and with the opening crawl of the text, “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away” combined with John William’s grand music, I was completely transfixed.  I knew I was in once-upon-a-time territory, one of my favorite places to be. (I like to note that I was born in County Tolkien.)  Then came the zooming of the spaceships, and I felt as though a current was going through my body. This sort of experience—this jolt—only happens every so often to me, when I am incredibly moved by a painting, some music, a book, or a movie.

Did that jolt affect Dee? Who can say? But she loves paintings, books, music, and, especially, movies. (Dee is a true cinephile and makes me look like a piker.)  When she was in fourth grade or so, she became an ardent fan of Doctor Who, and one year for Halloween Dee dressed up as the fourth doctor played by the inimitable Tom Baker.

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Tom Baker as Doctor Who

We bought Dee a curly wig, found a long scarf and sports coat, and voilà, we had a pretty good mini Doctor Who.

It would be fitting if Dee’s favorite Star Wars movie were that first one we saw in 1977. Instead, she prefers The Empire Strikes Back, which seems to be a favorite with many of her generation.  Life is like that—it does not always conform to perfect symmetry.

Anyway, a very happy birthday to Dee. May the force be with you now and always.

 

 

Nature

Nothing Gold Can Stay

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“So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.”
~Robert Frost

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Robert Frost was right—nothing gold can stay. Perhaps that’s a good thing. I’m not sure if we Mainers could take more than thirty-one days of October’s golden beauty. It would be too much dazzle and burst for us, and like overstimulated children, we would wear ourselves to a frazzle. With that in mind, November’s austerity—its russets and browns—has a soothing quality and a quiet beauty of its own.

Still, I wouldn’t want to be without glorious October. And as Gladys Taber observed, “When the blizzards come, I shall not only get what I can out of being snug and toasty by the fire…but I shall tell myself, as always, that without our special climate, no October.”

Taber was writing about Connecticut, but the same applies to Maine and its “special climate.”

Community

Off to Dave’s Appliance to Buy a New Stove

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The time has come to buy a new stove, and this is not a decision we have made lightly. Both Clif and I are of the mindset that appliances are to be replaced only when they are past the point where they can easily be fixed. For us, updating is a foreign concept.

But, alas, our stove, valiant trooper that it is, has reached the end of its days. All the burners have been replaced, but the front one is so far gone that there is no replacing it. The oven door no longer stays open by itself, and we have to lock the door when we went to bake anything. Occasionally, the lock light goes on, and we can’t open the door until the oven has cooled. Not a good arrangement.  Mostly we can avoid this by not sliding the lever all the way over. But still.

My worry is that on some crucial holiday, say, Thanksgiving or Christmas, the lock will give entirely and we either won’t be able to open the door or the door won’t close at all.

Therefore, on Saturday, we went to Dave’s Appliance, right here in town, to look at stoves. Dave’s is where we get all our appliances. Their prices are competitive with any other store that sells appliances. That is good. But what is especially wonderful about Dave’s is  the service. If something goes wrong with your stove, your washing machine, or your refrigerator,  then a repairman (always a man) comes to take a look. First he tries to fix the ailing appliance, and if it can’t be fixed, he will tell me, and I will believe him.  This kind of service is reminiscent of days past, but we have it right here in Winthrop. Is it any wonder all our appliances come from Dave’s?

A most excellent store
A most excellent store

Our budget is small, which meant we were looking at low-end stoves, and the sales clerk at Dave’s took it in stride. In fact, he did more than take it in stride. He suggested we wait until November, when all the stoves would go on sale, and we would save at least $100 on the stoves we were interested in. That is exactly what we will do. After all, we only have one more week of October.

Then there was the question of whether to buy a gas stove or another electric, similar to the one we have. Another sales clerk weighed in on the matter.  “Well,” he said, “gas is better to cook with. It’s more responsive. You can have exactly the heat you want with the burners.”

We agreed and told him we also wanted a stove that would work even when the power went out, which it does at least once a year on our road.

He nodded. “The winter storms are getting wetter and warmer, and this means more freezing rain and power outages.”

Again, we agreed, remembering the winter storms we had in the old days, when we were young. We got lots of snow, but we seldom had freezing rain, and we seldom lost our power.

“This trend with freezing rain is only going to get worse,” the clerk added.

We knew just what he meant. Climate change is here to stay. Unfortunately, after calling the gas company, we discovered the cost of hooking up a gas stove was more than we wanted to pay. This means we will stick with electric and bring up the little camp stove when the power goes out, as it inevitably does.

I will miss our old stove. It was not expensive. It is not a trendy color—I always go with white, although our old one does have some black, too. We bought the stove in the 1990s, and I have cooked over forty thousand of meals in it and on it. I know that bread takes thirty-three minutes, and brownies are done in thirty-one minutes. Ginger snaps? Eleven minutes.

Farewell, old friend. You have served us well.

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cooking, Food for Thought, People

The Generosity of Apple Pie

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Yesterday, I made two apple pies. One to bring to a potluck and one to share today with our friends Paul and Judy. To me, there is something very satisfying about making pies, especially apple.

First there is the peeling and slicing of the apples. Into a big bowl they go, and I stir in the sugar and spices.

Second there is the dough—the cutting, the mixing, the rolling out. By the time I am done there is a grand explosion of flour, a glorious mess, and why this gives me so much pleasure I cannot say. (I do want to note that this sort of mess did not give my Franco-American mother any pleasure at all, and her way of dealing with my messy habits was to leave the kitchen and read while I was cooking.)

A grand explosion of flour
A grand explosion of flour

 

Then there is the filling of the pie—in this case with fresh Maine apples. My favorite part is the crimping of the edges. I love pinching that dough. Finally, I cut a the hole in the middle of the pie, a trick my mother and I learned from Addie O’Keefe, a neighbor of ours in North Vassalboro. Lord, that woman could cook, can, and make preserves. Addie took my mother, a “city” girl, under her wing and taught her what she needed to know about living in the country.

The pie with crimped edges and a hole in the middle
The pie with crimped edges and a hole in the middle

 

From time to time, I think of Addie’s generosity.  She was not a young woman, and she had her own big house and gardens to take care of. However, Addie found the time to teach my mother practical country skills. In turn, when Addie was dying, my mother sat by her side and held her hand. The wheel of generosity turned from Addie to my mother.

But back to pie, specifically apple pie. Its next gift is the lovely smell when it cooks, the bubbling of apple, the mingling of sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Someone coming to the house, upon opening the door, would immediately know that apple pies were baking.

After all the mess, all the fuss, there is—ta dah!—the baked pie with its brown, flaky crust and tangy apple filling.

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The finished pie

 

M.F.K Fisher, the great food writer, thought that food was much more than a way to nourish the body. It also nourished the soul and expressed a variety of emotions, depending on the cook and the eater. How right she was.

And how evocative something as simple as an apple pie can be, taking me back to my childhood, reminding me of generosity.