Yesterday, the weather was humid and hot, but the rain held, and my husband, Clif, and I were able to spend the afternoon in one of our favorite places—on the patio in our backyard. Our daughter Shannon and her husband, Mike, joined us as well as our friend Claire, who just happens to be Mike’s aunt.
We decided to try cooking two small whole chickens on the grill, with indirect heat, and the results were mixed. We used a big roasting pan, and one chicken was set flat in the pan. The other chicken was propped upright on a little wire rack Clif bought at Home Depot, a rack that has space for an open can of beer onto which the chicken is placed. Supposedly, this makes the chicken moister, but unfortunately, the chicken set directly in the pan took longer to cook than the chicken on the rack. We probably should have taken the chicken off the rack as soon as it was done, but we didn’t, and it was disappointingly dry. On the other hand, the chicken cooked flat was quite good.
For both chickens, I had made a butter, garlic, sage mixture to rub under the skin—one stick of softened butter, four cloves of chopped garlic, and fifteen sage leaves, also chopped. This gave the meat a very good flavor, and I will definitely use this mixture again, for both cooking on the grill and cooking in the oven.
I will say that both chickens were brown and beautiful, but to paraphrase Dr. Who, good looks are no substitution for good taste.
Clif and I have decided we will try the rack and beer method again, but we will only cook one chicken and remove it as soon as it is done according to a meat thermometer. If at first you don’t succeed…
Despite the dry chicken, it was a lovely day on the patio. Courtesy of Claire and Shannon, we hand bang-up appetizers—a tangy Irish cheddar cheese with crackers; prosciutto and basil on slices from a very fresh baguette, and homemade tortilla chips from Whole Foods. Along with some salsa, of course.
Courtesy of farmer Kev, I served corn on the cob, green beans with browned butter, and red roasted potatoes with olive oil and rosemary.
Talking about books, movies, and family, we stayed on that patio until about 7:00. As evening came, the air cooled nicely, and Clif and I could hardly bear to go inside to clean up after our guests left. Surrounded by the forest, we listened as birds called to each other, the voices of woodpeckers, chickadees, and finches coming together in conversation.
This is a map of our Labor Day bicycle ride. It turned out to be a bit over 30 miles, and my wife, Laurie, and I were lucky that the rain held off until we returned home.
Whoops! Summer sped by at such a busy blur that I forget to post my July Let Them Eat Bread Report. For new readers, here’s a brief recap: My project this year is to bake and give away at least one loaf of bread each week in 2011. I’m doing this as a personal protest against the selfishness in our society. In a time of shrinking resources and an ever-growing population, we must learn to share. The bonus: It’s good spiritual practice.
As they would say on the NPR show Marketplace, let’s do the numbers: In July, I gave away 4 loaves of bread, and the same is true for August. This makes a yearly total of 42 1/2 loaves.
Last week I gave a loaf to my friend Debbie Maddi. Because of our schedules, I gave the bread to her the day after it was made, and homemade bread, of course, is best the day it is made. Because there are no artificial preservatives to keep it fresh, homemade bread dries out much faster than store-bought bread. I duly apologized to Debbie and suggested it would make good French toast.
With a laugh, she replied, “This is not going to be used for French toast, let me tell you.”
A nice thing to hear!
But I must say, my bread does make very good French toast, and it is becoming a Saturday treat in our house.
Is there any sound sadder and sweeter than the chorus of crickets in late summer? Yesterday, when my husband, Clif, came home from work, we had drinks on the patio and listened to the crickets sing. We know what their song means—summer is coming to an end and with it warm weather, barbecues, and drinks on the patio after work. Fall has its blaze of glory and winter its cozy consolations, but in northern New England, summer is short and therefore greatly cherished. Clif and I are always sorry to see it end.
Along with lamenting the end of summer, we naturally talked about Hurricane Irene and the horrible destruction in Vermont and New York. Roads, crops, and livelihoods have been flooded and smashed, and I expect recovery will not only be costly but also slow. Money is tight during this recession, I know, but I hope that farmers, towns, and states will get enough help from the government to rebuild and to regroup. I might be a naive idealist, but like Mark Bittman, I expect government to “work for the interests of the American people.” And this means pitching in, both collectively and individually. Why this is often a matter of contention is beyond my comprehension.
Let me be clear about personal responsibility—I believe that individuals should do everything they can to prepare for emergencies. (I wrote about this in yesterday’s post.) Every household—not just the ones with wells—should have an emergency supply of water ready and waiting. In addition, they should have extra batteries for lanterns and flashlights, oil for lamps, and even a little camp stove for cooking should the power go out for an extended period. Then, of course, there is food, and all households should maintain an “emergency pantry” of food that is easy to heat—soups, baked beans, spaghetti sauce, pasta. Peanut butter and crackers—things that keep—are also useful to have in good supply.
If individuals are thusly prepared, then they can still eat and drink when storms come and the power goes out.
However, there are certain things individuals cannot prepare for—washed out bridges and roads, destruction of crops, flooded houses. To recover from these things we need collective help, the help of the state and federal government. This has been my philosophy for all of my adult life, and Hurricane Irene just reinforces this belief.
Hurricane season is not over yet. Not by a long shot. Clif and I will continue to monitor our supplies so that we are well stocked and ready should another hurricane hit. That way, we can have our eggs, toast, and tea, real comforts when the power goes out, and we have no idea when it will come back.
Well, the sun is shining, and our power is back on. We lost it on Sunday at about 3 P.M., and it came back on Tuesday at around 2:00 A.M. All in all, except for the inconvenience of having no power, we came through pretty well. There was no damage to our house, to our car, to ourselves. Clean up was minimal, accomplished on Monday morning. It was so minimal, in fact, that we were even able to go on a bike ride on Monday afternoon.
Best of all, our New York City daughter, Dee, came through safe and sound, and my husband, Clif and I were happy to learn that New York City escaped the worst of Irene. So many people in such a small space.
On the other hand, our thoughts and good wishes go to the people of Vermont and upstate New York, who are dealing with the devastation of the flash floods. Irene proved to be unpredictable, sparing New York City and turning west instead to soak an already soaked region. I’m sure the people of both Vermont and upstate New York will make it through this difficult time, but how discouraging it must be for them.
Even though we were only inconvenienced for two days, Irene reinforced what I had already learned from the great ice storm of 1998: One must be prepared for power outages and emergencies. With climate change and increasingly fierce storms, this has only become more evident in the past decade. As I wrote in a previous post, we were prepared for this storm. We had water in big buckets for the toilet as well of plenty of water in pans for drinking. I had canned baked beans and pasta and jarred spaghetti sauce for meals that would be easy to heat. (As it turned out, I didn’t have to use them.) There was plenty of lamp oil, cannisters of propane for the camp stove, and batteries for the radio and flash light. I will be vigilant about replacing these things when they get low, and readers, I hope you will be doing similar things in your own home.
Fried eggs on the grill
On a lighter note…on Monday, the day after the storm, the weather was warm and sunny with a brilliant blue sky. Clif and I ate breakfast, dinner, and supper on the patio. Clif grilled toast for breakfast, and he fried some eggs. For dinner, we had leftover macaroni and cheese, made on Sunday before the power went out. We also had hot dogs, nitrite and nitrate free, of course. Supper was made from food tucked away in our cooler. We ate well, and if the power had stayed out longer, we had plans to cook a whole chicken on the grill.
Mac and cheese in a frying pan on a burner on the grill
Now, to get the house back in order after the rigmarole of having no power for a couple of days, and then out to lunch I go with my friend Barbara Penrod.
From the Guardian: Rising sea level threatens millions of people who live in the Mekong Delta in Vietnam. The rivers are becoming ever more salty, making it very difficult to grow rice, a staple of the region.
From the New York Times: Mark Bittman introduces FoodCorps, coming to a state near you. In fact, they are coming to Maine to promote healthy food for school children. An interesting piece, and I plan to find out more about this organization.
More from the New York Times: An abundance of Maine lobster must be a good thing, right? Not necessarily, when they are pretty much the only catch in town. Once upon a time, cod, haddock, hake, halibut, and swordfish were part of the mix of what Maine fisherman caught. Now, because of overfishing, not so much, which means that we are over-reliant on one species. Woe to Maine lobstermen if some disease should wipe out the lobsters.
From the Portland Press Herald: A Monday farmers’ market in Portland featuring immigrant farmers.
From the Times-Picayune: Six years after Katrina, a New Orleans woman labors to recopy soggy recipes she retrieved from her flooded house. I wonder if any home cooks will be doing this after Irene.
Hurricane season is upon us, and, in particular, Hurricane Irene is heading our way. Usually, central Maine does not get the full force of hurricanes. They either go out to sea or are so weakened by the time they reach Maine that they are no more than a bad storm. Once in a while, however, one hits with full force and brings predictable results—flooding, downed power lines, trees crashing where you’d rather not have them crash. We had one such hurricane when we first moved to Winthrop about 26 years ago. We were without power for a week, and as we have a well, no power means no water. Let’s just say that until you have to haul your own water, you don’t have an appreciation of how much water you use in a day for drinking, for cooking, for washing, for going to the bathroom.
The great ice storm of 1998 gave us another lesson in hauling water. In the middle of January, we were without power for ten days. Luckily, our town has a public water spigot, and it became routine to wait in lines with our various buckets to get water. No, we did not while away the time pretending we were back in the pioneer days, having to haul our own water. We were thrilled when the power came back and we could flush toilets and take showers and get water from the faucet once more.
But the lessons of no water have stayed with us. In our basement, we have two huge covered buckets of water always at the ready to use for flushing the toilet. In our freezer we have plastic milk jugs full of frozen water, which we can use to keep things cold. Then, when the ice has melted, the water will be perfectly good to drink. To this I have added 8 two-litter bottles of water—more ice and more drinking water.
All in all, a hurricane is not as bad as an ice storm. Hurricanes usually come when the days are still relatively long and warm. If we lose our power because of Hurricane Irene, then my husband, Clif, and I will take to the patio even more than we usually do. We have a grill with a side burner, which will allow us to cook our dinners with a minimum of fuss and bother. If we wear jackets, then we can linger on the patio until quite late, with the citronella torches for light.
So when it comes to water, we are ready, and we are preparing in other ways, too. But today I read news that made me both hopeful and fearful. First, that Hurricane Irene “should peter out in Maine by Monday afternoon.” That sounds good. However, Irene’s predicted path takes it right over New York City, which is where our daughter Dee lives. (I sent her an email asking her if she wants to come home this weekend. She doesn’t.)
All I can say is I’m so grateful this didn’t happen last year, when our daughter Shannon got married, and I was diagnosed with breast cancer. That was plenty for one August. We didn’t need a hurricane to add to the excitement.
If last Saturday wasn’t the biggest day of the year in Winthrop, then it must come close. It was the day of the lobster roll luncheon at the Congregational Church, the annual art fair, and the library book sale. Our little town—population circa 6,000—actually had throngs, yes, throngs, of people on the street as they looked at art, bought food from various civic organizations, and meandered to the lovely green at the Congregational Church for more goodies, and most important, lobster rolls.
Since we live only a mile from town, the first big decision my husband, Clif, and I had to make was whether to walk or to ride our bikes. At first we decided to ride our bikes, but books were to be involved in this outing. Let me confess that our house is bulging with books. The bookshelves are filled, and books are tucked into every conceivable space. This year, I vowed I would only buy one special book from the library sale, and thus we could ride our bikes.
When I stated this lofty goal to Clif, I immediately realized how ridiculous it was. “Let’s bring backpacks and walk,” I quickly suggested.
“Good idea,” Clif replied.
So with our backpacks, off we went, bright and early, jaunty even though it was already a very hot and humid day. The book sale was held at the town office, and we were there well before the doors opened at 9:00. There was a line, and we were close enough to the front so that I noticed the usual group of booksellers who always come early enough to be first. They swoop in to buy cheap books, which they in turn will resell at higher prices in their own shops. The competition among booksellers is keen, and I once witnessed a nasty exchange—at a library sale in Brunswick—between two booksellers jockeying for position in line.
I have never had a run-in with booksellers for the simple reason that we are not attracted to the same books. As soon as the doors opened, I rushed over to the cookbook section, grabbed everything that looked interesting, and retired to a corner where I could decide if I really wanted all those books. The answer was no, but I came away with plenty, as this picture shows.
Books from the library sale
Clif found a few science fiction books, and now laden with books on a day that was getting hotter by the hour, we buzzed through the farmers’ market, saying hi to Farmer Kev, Marinna of Snafu Acres, and Karen of Wholesome Holsmstead. Today, there was no room in the packs for food from the farmers’ market.
“That’s all right,” Karen said. “You certainly support us.”
We sure do, and next week we will be at the market to buy some things.
We strolled through the art fair, and there were several artists who caught our attention, especially a young man from Waterville—unfortunately we did not get his name—who specializes in paintings of warehouses and industrial buildings. It seems to me he is good enough to go beyond sidewalk art fairs and eventually be shown in galleries and museums. He has the talent; all he needs is some luck.
In the middle of the fair, we fortified ourselves with some hand-cut fries from one of the local civic organizations—I can’t remember if it was the Lions or the Kiwanis. My, those fries were good and at $2.50, a real bargain.
After that, it was on to the Congregational Church for a much-anticipated lobster roll. But first, we stopped at the goodies table to choose dessert, two handmade lemon cookies, moist and chewy. (I could have one right now with a cup of tea.)
Gerry Edgar and Marlene Douglas at the goodies table
We picked up our lobster rolls, and found a place to sit in the shade. The temperature was well over 90 degrees by this point, and the shade was very welcome.
Lobster roll!
As we were eating, a young man and his grandmother asked if they could sit next to us in the shade. Of course, we answered. I noticed the that the young man’s T-shirt had the logo “Rambler Productions.” Being a nosy person who is interested in movies, I asked him about it. From Spencer Roberts—the young man’s name—I found out that Winthrop High actually offers a film class and that the new high school has some decent equipment. I also learned that Spencer is a film student at New England School of Communications in Bangor, Maine.
Spencer Roberts, film student
Spencer told us that two summers ago, he had helped worked on a film called The Putt Putt Syndrome, parts of which were filmed in beautiful downtown Winthrop.
“Winthrop?” I asked in astonishment.
“Winthrop,” Spencer answered. “At Norcross Point and at Dave’s Appliance. I shot some behind the scenes stuff for the DVD, and I was a gofer, too. The movie is going to be showing next Saturday [August 27] at Railroad Square in Waterville.”
I had known nothing of a film being shot in Winthrop. How had that escaped me?
“We’ll have to go the movie,” I said, reflecting on the things you can learn at a lobster roll luncheon in a small town.
Spencer and his grandmother left. Clif and I finished our lobster rolls and headed home. Between the books and the heat, the walk was a real trudge, and I was happy to reach our shady yard, ditch the knapsack, and sit on the patio.
Slowly, slowly, I recovered from the heat. I had iced tea, a snack, and plenty of books to peruse. A perfect way to spend a hot afternoon.
From the New York Times: Another piece by Mark Bittman, and this time he visits Maine to write about sustainable agriculture. My only quibble with the piece is that Bittman describes Maine soil as acidic. While this is true in parts of Maine—namely the coast—central and northern Maine have rich soil that is ideal for farming. In fact, in the 188os, central Maine was the “bread basket” of New England.
From Shine on Yahoo: How much protein do you need? Not as much as you think, and it can all come from plants, if you plan it right. And according to the Environmental Working Group, if you eat one less hamburger a week, it’s the equivalent of “taking your car off the road for 320 miles.” Let’s hear it for bean burgers!
From Mother Jones: Berkeley and Oakland come to the table. An interview with Alice Waters, of Berkeley’s Chez Panisse, and Nikki Henderson of Oakland’s People’s Grocery. Two very different parts of California meet to talk about good food for all citizens, not just the the affluent ones.
On Saturday, we celebrated the one-year wedding anniversary of our daughter Shannon and her husband, Mike. My, what a frenzy it was last year at this time, with getting wedding favors ready, picking up flowers, hosting a bridesmaids’ luncheon, and the myriad of things that seem to go along with having a wedding. But a lovely wedding it was on a perfect August day, sunny and hot but dry.
In our family, we like to celebrate almost any occasion by cooking a special meal. Since it is August, and we were hoping the weather would cooperate so that we could grill food and eat on the patio, we planned our menu accordingly. We decided to go light on the appetizers, having learned that too many appetizers spoil the appetite for the main meal. We had tortilla chips and salsa, always a favorite with Mike, and our favorite retro clam dip along with regular chips.
Retro clam dip with chips
Luckily, the weather did cooperate, and this Saturday was as fine as the wedding day itself. This meant we could have grilled bread, a course unto itself. Over the years, my husband, Clif, has developed quite the knack with grilled bread, and he stretches and pulls the uncooked dough like a pro. In fact, he has become so good at it that grilled bread is now the expected summer treat when family and friends come over, and if for some reason we don’t have it, then they are disappointed. All you need is good olive oil for dipping.
For the main meal, we all agreed that steak, corn on the cob, and garlic, basil mashed potatoes would be just the thing. Not only was it the main meal, but it was also a Maine meal. The steak came from Wholesome Holmstead in Winthrop, the corn from Jillson’s Farm in Sabattus, and the potatoes were Farmer Kev’s, also in Winthrop. Even the butter—Kate’s Butter—came from Maine.
The "Maine" meal
Although my gardens are little frowsy this time of year, there is no sweeter place to be in the summer on a fine day than on our patio. The crickets sang their end-of-summer song as we toasted Shannon and Mike and worked our way through appetizers, grilled bread, and steak, potatoes, and corn. By the time we had finished, dusk had settled over the backyard, and with it the evening dew.
Inside we went, for cake, ice cream, and tea. The cake, as is the tradition, was the very top of the wedding cake, bagged and frozen for the past year. I did wonder what that cake would taste like, but truly it was pretty good. Not as fresh and as nice as it was on the wedding day but nonetheless still enjoyable a year later.
Naturally, a gift was in order, and we decided to get a food processor for two of our favorite foodies. I use mine a lot, and I know Shannon and Mike will use theirs a lot, too.
Happy anniversary, Shannon and Mike. May you have many, many more!
Addendum: Ali, of the blog Henbogle, asked for the clam dip recipe. Here it is, copied from one of my previous posts about clam dip and nostalgia.
Clam Dip
Adapted from the recipe on the can of Snow’s minced clams
1 (6.5 oz) minced clams, drained. Reserve the liquid.
¼ cup of sour cream
1 (8 oz) package of cream cheese, softened
1 clove garlic, dry roasted and finely chopped
¼ teaspoon of Worcestershire sauce
Note about the garlic: Raw garlic has a bite that often leads to indigestion. To mitigate this, heat a fry pan (do not add oil) and place the unpeeled garlic in the hot pan. Flip, stir, or toss the clove from time to time. What you want are a few brown spots on the skin, but not too many. In other words, don’t burn it. Let the garlic cool a bit. Peel and chop. You will have a lovely, mellow clove of garlic, still flavorful but without the overwhelming presence so often found in raw garlic.
Beat the cream cheese, sour cream, and enough of the clam liquid so that the mixture has a smoothness and texture that you like. I use 3 Tablespoons, but this is a matter of taste. If you like a thinner dip, just add more of the clam liquid. After you have a consistency that you like, blend the clams, garlic, and Worcestershire sauce into the cream cheese and sour cream mixture. Chill.Then, get a bag of ruffled chips. If you have orange or yellow bowls for the chips and dip, then use them. Put on Carole King or James Taylor or any other of the great singer/songwriters from the 1970s. Invite some old—I mean this literally—friends over.
Then, as you listen to King and Taylor, dip those ruffled chips. And wax nostalgic.
A blog about nature, home, books, movies, television, food, and rural life.
Yesterday, the weather was humid and hot, but the rain held, and my husband, Clif, and I were able to spend the afternoon in one of our favorite places—on the patio in our backyard. Our daughter Shannon and her husband, Mike, joined us as well as our friend Claire, who just happens to be Mike’s aunt.
Notes From the Hinterland 