Category Archives: Food

Birds, Food, summer

A Mini Staycation

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Last week, Clif, Dee, and I took four days off—Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday—from our regular routine to relax and have fun. Our daughter Shannon, her husband Mike, and their dogs joined us on Friday and Saturday.

On Friday, the weather gods were in a good mood. Although it was hot, there was no rain, and off to Absolem Cider Company we went for a picnic and drinks. Mike’s aunt, Claire Hersom, met us there.

I had an utterly delicious drink of rum mixed with strawberry liqueur.

Dee took this picture of us. In the picture, Claire looks uncertain, but really and truly, she had a good time.

Clockwise: Claire, Mike, Clif, me, and Shannon

Chickens, hoping for a treat, joined us. They might have gotten some popcorn that made it to the ground.

Here are a couple more pictures of this lovely place, only five miles from where we live. How lucky is that?

On Saturday, the weather gods continued to smile for the morning and early afternoon, and we spent the entire time on the patio for a bagel breakfast and a lunch of Clif’s legendary grilled bread.

I forgot to take pictures of the food, but I did manage to capture this daylily against my Great Library/Elferterre sign.

Unfortunately, the rain came late afternoon, bringing flash flooding to some places. But Shannon and Mike and the dogs made it home safe and sound.

On Sunday we went to the movies to see Haunted Mansion. Not a great movie by any means, but it was a lot of fun albeit tinged with some sadness. 

On Monday, we had planned to go to East Boothbay and have a picnic on rocks by the ocean. But guess what? The forecast was for rain in the afternoon. As it takes an hour and half to get to East Boothbay, we decided to stay closer to home and have a picnic by the Kennebec River, about seven miles from us. However, the weather gods foiled us, and by the time the picnic was packed, we could hear thunder rumbling. Out to our patio we went, and we had barely finished eating when the rain came. Back in we scurried.

The rain did not last long, and we decided to console ourselves with ice cream at Fielder’s Choice in the neighboring town of Manchester. We might not have made it to the coast or even to the Kennebec River, but we had some wicked good ice cream.

That surely has to count for something.

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Reading

Tooting my own horn

One of my blogging friends, Carol Ann of Blogging for Joy, recently read Maya and the Book of Everything, the first book in my Great Library Series. She had such kind things to say about my novel. Many thanks, Carol Ann! I’ve written this before, but I feel like it must be noted again: Because of my blogging friends, my Great Library series has traveled around this country and around the world, too. No small feat for an indie writer. To borrow from Shakespeare: “I can no other answer make but thanks, And thanks; and ever thanks…”

Introducing…

Volume Five of Résonance, an online journal. The following description is taken from its website: Résonance  features works “primarily by and/or about the Franco-American communities of the United States….There has long been a need for this type of resource. Franco-American and other writers who wished to communicate the reality of this linguistic minority have often found no literary-focused vehicle to do so….Résonance is published by its Editorial Board in Orono, Maine, under the aegis of the Franco American Programs of the University of Maine.”

For new readers: Yes, Franco-Americans are an actual ethnic group in the United States. Between 1840 and 1930, about 1 million French Canadians immigrated to the United States. They primarily settled in New England but also spread out to other states where there was factory work.

In Maine, the state where I live, about 30% of the population is descended from French Canadians. That would include me—my family name was Meunier—and indeed French was my mother’s first language. My great-grandmother never did learn how to speak English, but the feeling was that she understood more than she let on.

Unfortunately, the Yankee Protestant population did not welcome us with open arms, and there was active discrimination and prejudice against Franco-Americans. In Maine, Ku Klux Klan membership was huge, with rallies and cross burnings other methods of intimidation.

For more about this, read David Vermette’s excellent piece in Smithsonian Magazine.

Sometimes, situations do improve, and Franco-Americans no longer face they discrimination they once did. By gum, thanks to the University of Maine at Orono and editor-in-chief Steven Riel, we even have our own journal, Résonance. And I am happy to report that I am the creative nonfiction editor.

Enjoy!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Birds, Flowers, Food, Movies, summer

Birds and Blooms and Rain. Plus, a Review of the Newest Indiana Jones Movie

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In Maine, June was a very rainy month, and it seems that July is following suit. I know, of course, that too little rain is a terrible problem, but it is possible to have too much of a good thing. Although my perennials are thriving, my annuals are a bust this year. The tomatoes are tall and spindly with few blossoms; the cucumber plant looks stunted; and the nasturtium seeds rotted in the ground. According to Maine Public, this was one of the rainiest Junes on record, and if the weather gods don’t relent, this also will be one of the rainiest summers on record.

On Saturday, the weather gods must have been looking elsewhere because there was no rain for the entire day. Before they could change their minds, Clif, Dee, and I hurried out to the patio, where Clif made his legendary grilled bread. As we Mainers would put it, that bread was some good. We had small bowls of marinara sauce for dipping.

We also had drinks to salute this day without rain. The owl wine glass belongs to Dee, and we toasted Jackie Knight, a lover of owls.  (Jackie is the wife of blogging friend Derrick Knight.) Jackie, we love owls, too.

July is the time for fledglings, and with my wee camera I was actually able to catch this pair of woodpeckers. The one at the bottom is the fledgling, who with a squawking and fluttering of wings, followed and pestered its parent for food. I do love those fledglings, on the edge of independence but still young enough to want to be fed.

In the front yard, there are bursts of yellow and red to add variety to all the green.

Here is a closer look.

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Watching

Too Many Nazis

Movie: Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny

On July 4, Clif, Dee, and I went to Regal Cinema in Augusta to see Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny.  Because of Covid, it had been three  years since we actually went to a cinema to see a movie. With all that’s available on streaming, I thought I was just fine not going to the movies. After all, we have a really nice television with a good sound system.

Turns out, I was wrong. As soon as I settled into one of those big recliners, and the room went dark, I was completely absorbed, enthralled, even. Once a cinephile, always a cinephile. Of course, it didn’t hurt that I was watching Harrison Ford, one of the biggest and most charismatic stars of my generation.

Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny followed the usual contours of the previous Indiana Jones movies: There were lots of bad guys—Nazis, again; a magical artifact that would cause big trouble if it fell into the wrong hands; a thrilling opening sequence where a digitally de-aged Indy ran across the roof of a long, long train; and chase scenes galore.  As you can see from the poster, Indy had his trademark whip and hat.

These repetitions could have made the movie feel stale, but they didn’t. Instead, it was a thrill to see Indy on the hunt again, this time for Archimedes’ Dial, which supposedly opens fissures in time. On that train, in 1944, Indy escaped with half of the dial, outwitting the Nazi astrophysicist Jürgen Voller (played by the excellent Mads Mikkelsen).

Is there another half of the dial somewhere? Is the Nazi astrophysicist obsessed with it? Does Indy, spurred on by his goddaughter Helena (a luminous Phoebe Waller-Bridge) go after the other half? Yes, yes, and yes.

But Dial of Destiny, with its themes of sorrow, regret, and the trials of old age, rises above the average adventure movie. After the thrilling chase scene on the train, the movie shifts to 1969, when Indy is no longer young. We see him at a low point in his life—sad, sleeping in his boxer shorts in a chair, drinking first thing in the morning. His old cocky days are long gone, and it gave me a pang to see him like this. While things perk up when his goddaughter Helena arrives on the scene, that sadness threads itself through the movie, elevating it.

Readers, I loved this movie and would gladly see it again. If you are an Indiana Jones fan,  get thee to a cinema, where you can see it in all its glory on the big screen.

 

 

 

 

Celebrate, Food

A Very Happy Mother’s Day

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In the United States, yesterday was Mother’s Day. Unfortunately, our eldest daughter Dee is in New York and couldn’t be with us. However, our youngest daughter Shannon and her husband Mike came on Friday and spent the night. Naturally, the dogs came, too, for the early Mother’s Day celebration.

What a treat to have them here. We had Chinese food followed by donuts for dessert. (I am a donut fiend, and I once wrote a piece called “Desperate for Donuts.”)

We spent quite a bit of time on the patio. Luckily, this spring the black flies—those biting scourges of the north—aren’t too bad. A real gift for Mother’s Day. Nothing like having a cloud of bloodthirsty insects swarming around your head to ruin a celebration.

That night, we played a cooperative board game called The Big Book of Madness.

We had a lot of fun with this game.

After playing The Big Book of Madness, we talked late into the night about all the things we love—books, games, movies, and television. It’s wonderful to have Shannon and Mike within driving distance of us. When they lived in North Carolina, we didn’t see them very often.

A sweet, sweet way to celebrate Mother’s Day early.

 

 

 

 

Flowers, Food, People, summer

Too Darned Hot

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For the past four or five days, the temperatures have been 90°F and very humid. With the heat index, it has felt closer to 100°F. Too darned hot. Is this really Maine in August?

It seems that it is.

This heat has knocked the stuffing out of me. (A Facebook friend described it as feeling depleted. Yes.) Our little air conditioner, whom we’ve named Eva, is simply not up to the task of keeping our home cool. The best we get with her is 80°. Better than 90°, I know, but not much of a relief. Strange to think that until a few years ago, we didn’t even need an air conditioner in our home in the woods. An attic fan did the trick.

But there have been a couple of bright spots.

Unlike me, the container plants seem to thrive in this heat and humidity.  I have never had such a burst of impatiens on my front steps.

The begonias look pretty darned good, too.

Then there are the tomatoes, “the jungle” as we call it. Lots of green tomatoes and enough ripe ones for a sandwich or a wrap at lunch.

Also, on Saturday, we had a visit from Shannon and Mike.

Along with their dogs, who were thrilled to see us, Shannon and Mike brought donuts—fresh, thick, and perfectly fried. I’m a fiend for donuts—I once wrote an essay called “Desperate for Donuts”— and these were oh so good. The half-donut in the picture  is the result of me not being able to wait and grabbing half before we had our lunch.

For readers in or near Tewksbury, Massachusetts, those delectable donuts came from Donna’s Donuts.

This week, the heat is supposed to break, and we’ve even been promised night temps in the lower 60s. Oh, yes, please! This Mainer really doesn’t like the temperature to go much above 80°, and my happy place is between 65° and 70°.

Well, I’ll have to adapt to this warming world. Soon Clif and I will be checking into heat pumps, which cool as well as provide heat.

Until then…

Food, Food for Thought

The Consolation of Tomato Sandwiches

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Here we are at the end of August, traditionally one of Maine’s most beautiful months. Time was when the weather was hot—around 80°F—and dry during the day, yet cool enough for blankets at night. It seems this era has passed, and now we veer between a humid 100°F heat followed by a forty degree drop to 60°F. So disorienting, especially to an old timer like me who remembers how sweet August once was in northern New England. It fills me with such sadness to think that those days are probably gone for good, that future generations of Mainers will never know the glories of a Maine August when the weather was nearly perfect.

Fortunately, despite the unwelcome change in the weather, tomatoes still ripen in August in Maine. In my yard by the edge of the woods, I only get six hours of sun at most during the summer. But I have found a variety of tomatoes—Juliet—that actually grows well in part sun/part shade.

Here they are on the vine.

And here are these gems in a bowl.

Juliet is a grape tomato, firm yet sweet and tart, perfect for many uses—sauces, salads, on their own as a side, and, especially, for tomato sandwiches.

Southern readers would probably cry foul if I claimed tomato sandwiches were a Maine speciality. Therefore, I won’t do that. However, old-time Mainers are as keen on tomato sandwiches as they are, say, on blueberry pie or corn on the cob. Tomato sandwiches are definitely a thing in Maine in August and September.

Simplicity in itself, tomato sandwiches consist of three ingredients, garden-fresh tomatoes, bread, and mayonnaise. All right, there is a fourth ingredient if you are so inclined—salt.

Some folks like white bread, untoasted. I am not one of them. I want a good whole-grain bread, and I want it to be toasted, thank you very much.

As I was making this sandwich, Clif asked if I wanted lettuce on it, too. I gave him a pitying look that indicated he should know better. After all, Clif is from Maine. But alas he does not like raw tomatoes and is thus unfamiliar with the protocol of a proper tomato sandwich.

Clif tried to defend himself. “You would have lettuce on a BLT.”

Yes, you would, but a tomato sandwich is not a BLT, and Clif received another pitying look.

With tomato sandwiches, you have a perfect combination of crunch, sweet, tart, smooth, and salt. With such deliciousness, I can almost forgive the high heat and humidity that is now August in Maine.

Almost.

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Nifty Posts from Some of the Lovely Blogs I Follow:

Michele, of Rabbit Patch Diary, writes movingly of her eldest granddaughter starting school and other big changes.

In Change is Hard, Dawn finds beauty close to home, despite Covid, a hurricane, and other shattering events in this country.

On Etikser, rain provides the windows with a dreamy palette.

On Thistles and Kiwi, small pleasures—food and flowers—are still to be had, despite the uptick in Covid cases in New Zealand.

Ju-Lyn, of Touring My Backyard, is inspired by a trio of seventy-year-old men.

 

 

 

 

Food

A Feast for Fools

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With the Delta Covid variant rearing its nasty, unwelcome head, our vacation last week was fairly restrained. The more we read about this ultra-contagious variant, the more cautious we have become. As cases soar around the country—even in Maine—this seems like the sensible and safe thing to do.

But we did squeeze in a few treats, and the last one on Saturday was especially fun, despite the weather being horribly hot and humid. With masks firmly in place, we went to Meridians Shop in Fairfield. Meridians is a store of delights that features wine, beer, chocolate, cheese, cracker, and nuts as well as other goodies. It’s even more of delight when you have $70 gift certificate. (Thank you, Rose & Steve!)

Into the basket went all kinds of goodies for a picnic at home. Because I am, ahem, more than a little food obsessed, it was a gleeful experience for me to choose rather expensive treats and not worry about the price. Beer, Brie, cashews, pecans, crackers, and chocolate all went into the basket. And cookies. Because what is a picnic without cookies?

Shopping done, we headed home straight into a bank of black clouds and a brief but thrilling storm. Thick flashes of lightening streaked across the entire sky. On the side of the road, the wind blew the Queen Anne’s lace back and forth, back and forth. The rain bucketed down so hard that we could barely see the car in front of us, but fortunately everyone drove slowly, and there were no accidents. Even with the windows closed, the sweet smell of rain on wet pavement came through.

It took us no more than five minutes to drive out of the storm. Within ten minutes, the rain had stopped and there were blue patches in the cloudy sky. The road was dry, and the Queen Anne’s lace was still. But a crack of thunder behind us reminded us that the weather gods have the last laugh.

When we got home, everything was wet, and eating outside was not an option. No matter! We would have a dining room picnic.

Here is an array of the treats we bought.

And a close-up of a beer that tickled Clif, who is from Bangor.

He especially liked the snappy slogan. After all, we think of Maine as north of north.

Apparently the beer was pretty tasty, too.

In fact, the whole feast was pretty tasty, a fine way to end our vacation week.

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Nifty posts from some of the lovely blogs I follow

Note: Every week, it’s difficult to settle on six nifty posts from the many wonderful blogs I follow. This week, for some reason, was even harder. So many great posts. I could feature more than six, but lists that are too long tend to be daunting, and six seems like a good number. Anyway, here is but a brief sample of the terrific posts I read in the last week.

Yet again, Thistles and Kiwis dazzles us with food from fabulous Wellington, New Zealand. Am I jealous? You bet I am.

Tangly Cottage Gardening Journal features a fantastic way of potting up plants that doesn’t kill your back or knees.

Ju-Lyn, of Touring my Backyard, glories in cherry tomatoes.

On the Snail of Happiness, behold Speedweve! I am not sure I can adequately describe this device for mending sweaters. Read the post and marvel.

At Breezes at Dawn, a striking picture of red flowers against pines.

From mazeepuran, more luminous red.

 

 

Art, Food

Did We Leave Our Car Windows Open?

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In the United States, last Sunday was Father’s Day, and to celebrate, Clif and I had went on an honest-to-God outing, something we haven’t done since March 2020, right before the pandemic closed everything down. First we went to the Colby College Art Museum in Waterville, where we saw an exhibit featuring prints of the U.S. artist Mary Cassatt (May 22, 1844–June 14, 1926).

My first impression of the prints was that they were subtle to the point of being dull. But a closer look disabused me of that notion. A lesson, that’s for sure—first impressions are not always accurate. Cassatt was a master portraitist who focused on mothers and children. Cassatt’s ability to capture nuance and emotion shines forth even in her prints. I was utterly amazed that she could give them so much life.

Here is a short video featuring the curator of the exhibit.

After looking at the exhibit, we wandered around the rest of the museum. We found ourself on the lowest floor of the museum, where there were no windows, and we heard a loud rush of water that sounded suspiciously like rain. Could we really be hearing rain so far down?

It seems that we could. When we went upstairs and looked out a window, we saw the rain bucketing in sheets.

Clif asked, “Did we leave our car windows open?”

Yes, we did. The day was hot and humid, and we thought it would be more comfortable to leave the windows open. Boy, were we ever wrong.

The tempest didn’t last long, and when we went back to the car, there was water, water everywhere pooling inside the center console. Fortunately, I was able to mop up most of the water with napkins from the glove compartment.

But the cloth seats were soaked, and after two minutes of sitting on them, so were our backsides.

Nevertheless, onward we went to the second part of our outing—to Buen Apetito for Mexican food. Fortunately, we sat at a booth with plastic seats. As we squished our way in, I explained the situation to our server, who laughed and took it in stride.

“No worries!” she said.

With that settled, we started with a beer—Lunch not Miller Lite— for Clif and a margarita for me.

We shared an order of potato flautases, which I forget to take a picture of. And because it was Father’s Day weekend, we also split dessert, a deep-fried banana tortilla with scoop of vanilla ice cream sprinkled with cinnamon.

As we would say in Maine, wicked good.

 

Some Favorite Blog Posts from Friends Far and Near

Note: After marathon gardening for two months, I’m still not in the swing of things, But eventually each week I hope to feature more posts from snappy blogs I follow.

Ju-Lyn, from Touring My Backyard, received the gift of a kabocha  pumpkin, which is one I’ve never heard of.

From New Zealand, Thistles and Kiwis featured highlights of a trip to Auckland.

 

 

Food

Yet Again Throwing Carbs to the Wind

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In September and October, there is no finer place to be than Maine. The asters are in glorious bloom by the side of the road.

And many of the trees are a blaze of color. In autumn, I give thanks that I was born in Maine and have chosen to stay here.

Yesterday was Clif’s birthday and yet again we threw caution and carbs to the wind. We went to the Red Barn for some of their delicious fried seafood—scallops for Clif and shrimp for me. Very tasty.

I am sorry to report that masks and social distancing seemed to be optional, which meant we weren’t quite as relaxed as we might have been. Because we were outdoors, we weren’t terribly worried, but why oh why can’t people wear a mask when they pick up their orders and/or keep their damned distance?

An interesting sign of the times. The Barn has invested in bubbles for small groups to gather. They plan to install heaters so that outside eating can continue into November and December, when the glories of fall have passed and Maine weather is usually pretty brisk.

On their Facebook page, the Barn has stated that they have a cleaning regimen to make the bubbles safe for customers.

We’ll probably pass on using one of the bubbles. Our dietary regimen and our budget pretty much preclude eating out most of the time. But I know that many restaurants are struggling during this pandemic, and the bubbles might be a safe way to extend the Barn’s on-site dining during the pandemic.

On his birthday, Clif found something in our local grocery store that made him very happy—a low-carb beer that actually tastes good.

This is the trick for staying on a strict diet—finding substitutes that taste good so that you don’t feel deprived. Clif and I have managed to find many replacements for high-carb, high caloric treats. (Of course, we also eat lots of fruit and veggies and other healthy food.)

I just ordered a tin of chocolate mint tea in the hopes that it might satisfy my sweet tooth (teeth?).

Stay tuned.

And if any of you have suggestions, please chime in.

 

 

Food, Food for Thought

An Odd but Fruitful Fourth

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Saturday was the Fourth of July. As Wikipedia puts it, the Fourth is a day, “commemorating the Declaration of Independence of the United States, on July 4, 1776.” As I’m sure most of you know, it is a national holiday.

For Clif and Me, it was the oddest Fourth of July we have ever had. Usually, we host a gathering of family and friends on our patio, and Clif makes his legendary grilled bread. But thanks to Covid-19, no family and friends this year and no grilled bread.

Unfortunately, for the past ten years, the weather has been beastly on the Fourth, very hot and very humid. This year, of course, the weather was absolutely perfect—sunny but not too hot and low humidity.

At around 2:00, Clif and I took to the patio and had grilled Beyond Burgers, a tasty vegetarian substitute for hamburgers. The weather was so fine that we stayed on the patio for the rest of the afternoon.

We talked at great length about food, and how we can eat better to enhance our health. Ever since the pandemic started, both Clif and I have been aware that not only are we at risk because of age but also because of health issues. Clif has type 2 diabetes, and I am overweight.

I have been working diligently at losing weight and am having success. I’ve also been riding my exercise bike five mornings a week, and I’m happy to report that my creaky knees are not as creaky.

On the Fourth, Clif decided it was time to get serious  about controlling his carbohydrate (carb) intake. A friend of ours who has struggled with type 2 diabetes for years is now facing the prospect of going on dialysis. Sobering, to say the least. And this really made Clif think about his own health, not just in this time of Covid-19 but afterward as well.

For the past year and a half, Clif and I have been vegetarians. This might be coming to an end as we add chicken and fish to our diet as we change to a low-carb regimen.  But strangely enough, being vegetarian has given us the courage and confidence to tackle low-carb eating. Giving up meat was not easy for us, but we did it,  and we radically changed the way we eat. Because of this, we know we can change the way we eat again.

Now, Clif is a computer guy, a geek, if you will. Because Clif couldn’t find an online tool for keeping track of carbs that worked the way he thought it should, his response was to create his own carb data base on his computer. The data base allows him to create his own list with net carb numbers and serving size. This makes it easy for Clif to keep track of his daily carb intake. He is aiming for 50 to 60 carbs a day, and yesterday Clif was able to do this and still have beer and nuts on the patio.

So onward, ho, to a new way of eating. One, we hope, that leads to better health.

 

 

 

 

Animals - especially dogs, Food, Nature

First Lunch on the Patio

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On Saturday, the weather was so fine—at least by Maine standards—that Clif and I had our first lunch on the patio. The temperature was about 65°F with a gentle breeze. For two winter-weary elders, it was warm enough for us to leave our jackets inside as we sat and ate.

Clif made potato pancakes for our lunch. In the picture, they look like regular pancakes, but they had a lovely mashed potato and Parmesan taste. We slathered them with butter and liberally sprinkled them with salt. Very tasty indeed. Especially when eaten on the patio.

As we ate, we were treated to all manner of fluttering birds and their spring songs. The wary goldfinches, cheeping loudly, clustered in a big cedar as they waited for us to leave.

But this bird was a little braver. (I’m thinking it’s a flycatcher. Eliza, what do you think?)

And the mourning dove felt perfectly comfortable patrolling for spilled seeds not far from where we sat.

Watching over everything was the backyard Spirit of the Woods.

I know. It’s really a dead tree that should come down before it falls where we don’t want it to fall. But I will be sorry when the tree no longer stands. Not only will we lose the wood spirit, but the birds will lose a place to hunt for tidbits.

But there. For several years, Clif and I have talked about taking that tree down, and still it stands. I am hoping the tree will be there for several more years.

After lunch, I worked on removing leaves from the beds in the front yard. Why is it that outside work is more satisfying than inside housework? It probably has something to with the sun and the sky and the birds, none of which are as present when you are inside.

Later on during the weekend, thanks to technology, I visited with my daughters and my son-in-law, and much of the talk was about politics and the coronavirus.

I also “attended” Rassemblement, a yearly gathering of Franco-American artists, writers, and creatives. Usually it is held at the University of Maine at Orono, but in this time of the coronavirus, it was held virtually.

The theme of this year’s gathering was legacy. This is from the Franco American Programs website: “The dictionary definition of legacy is, ‘Something handed down from an ancestor or a predecessor or from the past.’ As Franco Americans, what was handed down to us? And how does this gift act as both an impetus to create and as a restriction on our creations? What are we handing down to those who come after us? What was and is our legacy?”

Someone—ahem!—might have brought up that one of the legacies of Franco-Americans is that it was a patriarchal ethnic group, with an unhealthy separation of men and women. A spirited discussion ensued.

But more about that later.