Yesterday, we went to a friend’s retirement party held at the old grange—now the Helen Melledy Hall—in Monmouth. After thirty-five years of teaching high school chemistry, Mr. Knightrogen—aka Stephen Knight—has decided to “throw in his lab coat.” This year is his last year of teaching full time. (He does, however, have a part-time gig this summer in Farmington. You just can’t keep Mr. Knightrogen down.)
The hall was packed with family and friends, and the noise level was astounding. It’s amazing how happy people can make such a sound and a fury.
A view of the crowd and Mr. Knightrogen
Naturally, there were refreshments, and the food was pretty darned good, as my Yankee husband noted. Lots of tasty appetizers.
The spread
I can’t resist sharing this picture of my own contribution to Steve’s party. Yes, a recipe will follow in the next week or two.
Stuffed bread
To round out the refreshments, there was also wine tasting, courtesy of David Gulak, Steve’s future son-in-law. David is one of the owners of Meridians, a wine, beer, and food shop in Fairfield, Maine.
After everyone had plenty of time to eat, talk, and drink, there was a short program where a tearful Steve made a speech. There was also a snappy video, projected large on a back wall, and the video had testimonials from friends and former students as well as stills of Steve’s life as a teacher.
Then, of course, there was cake, made by Emilie Knight, Steve’s daughter.
Last but certainly not least, there was an official recognition from the Maine Legislature of Steve’s retirement and his service to Maine.
A much-deserved accolade for a dedicated and creative teacher. Clif and I have no doubt that with his energy, enthusiasm, and curiosity, Steve will have a fulfilling retirement and will continue to serve the community.
Over the years, we have realized that our favorite way of celebrating special days and holidays is to cook together as a family. (The family that cooks together stays together?) Birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine’s Day, and, of course, Mother’s Day all bring about a flurry of mixing and cooking.
Yesterday, Shannon and the dogs came to the little house in the big woods to celebrate Mother’s Day. With Clif, we were a small but mighty team of three humans—Mike had to work, and Dee lives too far away—and three dogs. (Both Clif’s mother and my mother have died. How we miss them!)
This lucky mother got the best pancakes in Maine, if not the United States; fruit salad; home fries; and delectable flourless, chocolate cupcakes, which I request every year for Mother’s Day. Clif made the pancakes—his truly are the best—and Shannon made the rest.
For the most part, Clif and Shannon wouldn’t let me help, but I did manage to sneak in a couple of things such as wiping the tables, inside and out.
“You’re not supposed to be helping,” Shannon said. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
“Well, whose daughter is she?” Clif asked.
Shannon and I laughed. My mother couldn’t stand not helping, and it was a real effort to get her to relax. Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, as the saying goes, and it I will admit it makes me a little fidgety to sit while others bustle to prepare a meal. However, for the most part, I complied with their wishes and stayed out of the kitchen.
After brunch, we headed out to the patio so that the dogs could roam and sniff and we could enjoy being in the backyard. We were able to spend quite a bit of time outside before the black flies drove us in.
Even though it made me a little antsy not to pitch in and help, it was a treat to have someone else do the cooking and clean-up. We seldom eat out, which means I make most of the meals we eat. I am happy to do this, but it is nice to eat food that somebody else has prepared.
Shannon, the birthday girl, on the patio at the little house in the big woods
Last weekend was what might called a very Shannon weekend. Her birthday is April 22—Earth Day—and as is the tradition in our family, we had a little party where we cooked what the birthday girl wanted. In this case, fish tacos, which Clif and I had never made.
Awhile back, I went to Mary Jane’s house for lunch, and she served fish tacos that were utterly delectable. I wrote about it for this blog, and Shannon read the post.
“Fish tacos!” she told me. “I love fish tacos.”
“Would you like them for your birthday?” I asked. “I bet Mary Jane would give me the recipe.”
Shannon said yes to the tacos, and Mary Jane did indeed agree to give me the recipe. Or rather talk me through it.
“I used tilapia,” she said. “But catfish would be fine, too.” Good. Unlike most fish, both tilapia and catfish are sustainable fish that we don’t have to feel guilty about eating. “All you do is cut the fish in strips, dip the strips in beaten eggs, roll them in crushed cornflakes, and pan fry them. You’ll have to do it in batches and keep the fish warm in the oven on a low heat.”
Not too hard. But what about the delicious chipotle mayonnaise Mary Jane served with the tacos? “Buy a can of chipotle chilis in adobo sauce. Cut up a few of the chilis, removing most of the seeds. Add them to some mayonnaise along with a little of the adobo sauce.”
Easy enough.
“Cole slaw is also good with the tacos,” Mary Jane added. “And so is salsa verde. And sliced limes.”
With these directions I felt more than confidant that Clif and I could make good fish tacos for Shannon’s birthday. As Mike doesn’t care for fish, we would make chicken strips as well, using egg and cornflakes and pan frying them the same way we would for the fish.
I am someone who likes to plan and have things ready ahead of time—last minute rushing leaves me flustered and prone to making mistakes. The fish tacos were not difficult to make, but there was a certain amount of prep work that needed to be done: cutting the fish and chicken, crushing the corn flakes, slicing the limes, and and making the chipotle mayonnaise.
Fortunately, Clif and I work well together in the kitchen, and we had everything ready before Shannon, Mike, and the dogs—Holly and Samara—arrived for the afternoon. The day was nice enough so that we could have appetizers on the patio. It was so fine that we could have the first grilled bread of the season, and Clif grilled the dough to perfection. (As I’ve written many times, Clif’s grilled bread is legendary among family and friends.)
After appetizers, it was time for fish tacos. Mike and Shannon sat in the dining room where they could still talk to us. Clif used the big electric frying pan for the chicken, and I used the cast iron for the fish. Everything went just the way it should, and how gratifying it is when that happens. I also cooked some rice to go with the tacos.
A plate of pan-fried tilapia
Both the fish and the chicken were pretty darned good, as Clif put it, and we all agreed that this was a make-again meal. In fact, you might even say that Mary Jane started a tradition for us.
Last weekend was quite the eventful weekend. On Saturday, I went to Piper’s—aka Darling Baby—first birthday party. I know all babies are cute, but it seems to me that Piper is especially cute, and she had a wonderful time being the center of attention. She even led the guests on a round of birthday claps.
Here she is with her auntie,
and with her birthday cake.
After a couple of fun hours, I bid the birthday girl adieu and headed home. On the way back, I spotted Canada geese on the ice and stopped to take pictures.
Then, on Sunday, spring finally came to the little house in the big woods, and for the first time this year, I was able to hang laundry on the line.
The receding snow has revealed things both good and bad—a forgotten pot and emerging irises.
By mid-afternoon, the temperature in the backyard was 65 degrees, and even though there was still snow, I decided to haul out a chair and a little glass table so that I could have afternoon snack on the patio.
I know. I’m rushing the season. But what a sweet end to a sweet weekend.
I might be exaggerating. It hasn’t snowed every day, but it’s starting to feel that way. Clif and I are beginning to wonder where in the world we are going to put more snow. Our driveway is a tunnel, and backing out, I’m more than likely to hit a snow bank. Fortunately, snow is soft, which means no damage is done.
We did have a break on Friday, when friends came over for minestrone soup, cornbread, and strawberry bars. We had many things to discuss, but we did manage to slide in some book talk, which always perks me up.
We had another break on Saturday, and Clif and I just piled on the activities while the weather was good. In the morning, we went to Railroad Square for Cinema Explorations, a winter film series. (Clif and I are on the planning committee.) We saw On the Way to School, a delightful but thought-provoking film about the long journey some children must make to get to school. Children from Kenya, Argentina, Morocco, and India were featured, and they traveled many, many miles, some by foot, some by horse, and one boy was even pushed several miles in a wheel chair. Sometimes the way was dangerous—elephants in Kenya, treacherous terrain in Morocco—and these children received blessings from their parents to get to school safely. The French director Pascal Plisson has worked for National Geographic, and the film’s gorgeous cinematography reflects this.
My friend Margy Burns Knight—an author, teacher, and former Peace Corps volunteer—led a discussion after the film, and when the official discussion was over, it spilled into the parking lot and then to Grand Central Café, where we had pizza. Even though the subject is serious, the tone of On the Way to School is as light as a Mozart aria. Nevertheless, we spent as much time talking about the film as we did watching it. Despite the film’s light tone, it means business.
After the movie, Clif and I came home to celebrate Mike’s birthday. We are of the firm conviction that every birthday, anniversary, holiday—you name it—should be celebrated. Celebrations add spice to life, and they don’t have to be elaborate or expensive to be fun. Our celebrations are always simple and at home, with meals cooked from scratch and small presents. There’s nothing big or showy about our celebrations, and we thoroughly enjoy them.
Mike’s birthday celebration was no different, and we stretched it out as we always do with appetizers—roasted pistachios and chickpeas as well as popcorn; followed by the main meal, homemade pizza—I did cheat and buy the dough; and dessert—ice cream cake.
It was a good thing we celebrated Mike’s birthday on Saturday because on Sunday, more snow came, and here it is on Monday, snowing yet again.
Yesterday, we visited our friend Diane, and upon returning and driving through the tunnel of snow that is now our driveway, my husband, Clif, observed, “You should call this the little house in the big snow.” Duly observed, and he couldn’t be more right.
I’m not sure if the pictures adequately show just how deep the snow is around our house, but in the shot below, it looks as though the snow is up to the windows. That’s because it is. While we don’t have the most snow ever—one winter the snow was up to the bottom of our outdoor lantern—it seems as though it’s the most snow we’ve gotten in the shortest amount of time—two feet of snow promptly followed by another foot of snow with yet another foot of snow predicted for today.
Snow up to the windows
And how cold it is. When I went outside to take pictures of our snow-bound house, the snow squeaked beneath my shoes, and I wasn’t suprised to learn that the temperature was still at zero degrees, even though it was midmorning.
So, more clearing of snow this afternoon. High winds are predicted to go along with the storm, which means we have to worry about our power going out. Clif is working at home today, and we’ll have our big meal at noon—a strata using Farmer Kev’s broccoli. That way, we’ll have plenty of time to do the dishes and clean the kitchen before the winds come.
Because of the weather, Clif and I have been pretty house-bound, and although we love our home, there comes a point where we both feel a little stir crazy. How good it was, then, to visit our friend Diane. We had tea, a tasty bread made from exotic grains—can’t remember what they were—that gave a lovely carob flavor to the loaf. Best of all was the conversation. We talked about the burgeoning food movement in Maine—the increase in young farmers and co-ops. We talked about the number of people struggling to afford good food—Diane volunteers at her local soup kitchen and food pantry, and she has seen first hand how the Great Recession has affected people. She told us about a Japanese drumming concert she recently attended and how she met a man who was planning on opening a noodle shop on Munjoy Hill.
“Let’s all go when it opens,” I said. Clif and I rarely eat out anymore. With many places charging $10 for lunch, it’s become too expensive for us. But Clif and I are suckers for noodle shops—we found a great one in New York City once when we were visiting Dee—and noodles are usually very affordable.
When we left Diane’s house, a nearly-full moon was rising, framed by a neighbor’s roof and the bare branches of a large, dark tree. The sky was a deep blue, and how beautiful the winter sky was at twilight.
We stopped at Reny’s on the way home, and we got some wicked good deals, as we Mainers like to say.
All in all, a great way to cap off a delightful afternoon.
Yesterday was quite the busy day filled with library meetings, a dental appointment, and stocking up in anticipation of the big storm. It seems that I wasn’t the only one scurrying for supplies. Last night, at Hannaford, the shelves were cleaned out of bread, butter, and cheddar cheese. There is something about a storm that encourages people to lay in supplies. Quite sensible, I think, and no doubt a holdover from our hunter/gatherer past.
How nice it was, then, to go to Mary Jane’s house for lunch, where I had utterly delectable fish tacos made with tilapia and served with limes, cole slaw, avocados, salsa verde, and a chipotle mayonnaise . (I can’t resist adding that tilapia, along with catfish and carp, is truly sustainable and is approved by the oceanographer Sylvia Earle.) What a terrific Monday treat to have before the storm.
Crunchy tilapia, hot from the panFish taco with all the fixings
I ate way more than I should have, and I could have a fish taco—or two or three—right now.
Today, the blizzard came as expected, and when I got up, it was a winter wonderland. Snow, snow, and more snow, but fortunately it is light and fluffy. And, as readers can probably guess, we still have our power, at least for the moment. I am hoping we will keep our power, but as I wrote in yesterday’s post, we are ready if it goes out.
Flashlights ready for action
In a little while, Clif and I will head outside to begin the first of what will probably be at least two cleanings. The dog will be in his glory as he jumps and barks at the snow I shovel. By the end, Liam will definitely look like a dog of the north, which, with his thick coat, is exactly what he is.
But when we come in, thanks to our wood furnace, the house will be warm. Because of my shopping, we have plenty of treats, and in this house there are always many books just waiting to be read.
All will be snug at the little house in the big woods.
For the past several years, Clif and I have bought a summer CSA (community supported agriculture) farm share from Farmer Kev, one of our favorite young farmers. In previous posts, I’ve written about Farmer Kev, so I will be brief: He’s still in his twenties, was bit by the farming bug as a young teenager, but doesn’t come from a farming family. Farmer Kev is a friend of the family and is one of the hardest-working young men that I know.
This year, for the first time, Farmer Kev offered a winter CSA farm share, and Clif and I did not hesitate to buy one. As a result, we’ve been getting vegetables that store well over the winter—beets, carrots, potatoes, garlic, and lots and lots of squash. The time had come, I decided, to make a spicy squash soup.
Any squash will do for this soup, but as I had an abundance of acorn squash, that is what I used. The soup is a two-step process because baking acorn squash first is the easiest way to mash it. Even though the hands-on time is minimal, I usually plan to bake the squash one day and make the soup on the following day. This time was no different. I baked the squash on Monday and made the soup on Tuesday.
To bake the squash—I used three—I greased a baking sheet, cut the squash in half, scooped out the seeds, placed the squash face down on the baking sheet, and baked them for an hour or so at 350 degrees.
Ready to be baked
When the squash was very soft—I poked it with a fork to test it—I removed the baking sheet from the oven, let the squash cool, and then mashed it into a bowl, which was then stored in the refrigerator until the next day. Note: If you are an early bird, then the baking of the squash and the making of the soup could easily be accomplished in one day.
Scooping and mashing squashMashed and ready for soup
Next came the making of the soup base. For this I used potatoes, carrots, and garlic, all courtesy of Farmer Kev. (I also used an onion, which, alas, I had to buy at the store.) I sautéed the vegetables, added water and spices, and simmered them for about an hour. When the potatoes and carrots were very soft, I blended the cooked squash into the simmered vegetables.
And then there was soup.
Clif likes his soup to be bulky with either crackers or pasta or some other ingredient to “fill it out,” as he puts it. So I usually cook some pasta to go with puréed soups, and the pasta is added to the bottom of the bowls rather than to the soup itself. That way, the pasta doesn’t swell into something unrecognizable.
I just thought of another reason why I bake the squash the day before. That way, the oven is free for me to make homemade bread to go with the soup.
Hot soup and homemade bread on a cold January night. Pretty darned good, as my Yankee husband might say.
Squash soup and homemade bread
Spicy Squash Soup
Makes six generous servings
4 medium potatoes, cubed
2 small or 1 large carrot, chopped
2 cloves of garlic, roughly chopped
1 medium onion, chopped
6 tablespoons of oil or butter
6 cups of water
1 teaspoon of dried tarragon
1 teaspoon of celery seed
1 teaspoon of cumin
1/2 teaspoon of white pepper
2 teaspoons of salt or to taste
4 cups of cooked, mashed squash (pumpkin could also be used)
In a large stockpot, heat the oil and add the potatoes, carrots, and onion. Sauté for five minutes and add the garlic, sautéing for 30 seconds. Add the water and the tarragon, celery seed, cumin, white pepper, and salt. Simmer for about an hour, until the vegetables are very soft.
Blend the squash into the cooked vegetables. The best way to do this is with an immersion blender. Set the stockpot in the sink, add the squash to the pot, and blend away in one easy swoop. You don’t have to worry about burning yourself, and you don’t have the mess of blending it in several batches. Whoever invented the immersion blended should be pronounced a hero to home cooks everywhere.
If you don’t have an immersion blender, then use a blender with a glass pitcher, do it in batches, and be careful not to burn yourself.
On Saturday, Longfellow’s Greenhouses in Manchester hosted an Eat Local Winter Farmer’s Market. Our own Farmer Kev was there, and Clif and I stopped by just a half hour before closing time. Even so, there was quite a crowd.
“How did you do?” I asked Farmer Kev.
“Fantastic,” came the reply. “We sold a lot.”
This time of year, Farmer Kev has mostly root crops, and how delicious they are. (This week, I’ll be making a squash soup with his squash, and I’ll post the recipe when I do.)
Farmer Kev talking to customers
Anne Trenholm, another young farmer from Winthrop, was at the farmer’s market with her dairy products, and she was sold out of most everything, include an herbed cheese that is oh so good.
Anne Trenholm of Wholesome Holmstead
There were also vendors with baked goods, chocolate, lobster rolls, and olive oils, and they all seemed to be doing a brisk business. Food is quite the draw, especially on a cold January day when you get to stroll through the warm greenhouse, and the scent of flowers mingles with the smell of food.
Longfellow’s will be hosting another Farmer’s Market on January 31, and there will be even more vendors. Farmer Kev will be there, and weather permitting, so will we.
Yesterday, Shannon and I went to Boston to reunite with Saranya, whom we haven’t seen for seventeen years. (In previous posts, I have written about Saranya—an AFS student—and how she stayed with us for a year when she was a teenager.) We had such a wonderful day in Boston that I hardly know how to describe it.
First, there was the bus ride, which doesn’t sound like much of a thrill, but it was a treat to be with Shannon for the trip—two hours from Portland and then back again—and to chit-chat about this and that. We see each other often, but usually there is a flurry of food, husbands, dogs, and friends involved. We seldom have two peaceful hours—four actually—to just talk.
At South Station, we met Saranya, her sister Eve, and Eve’s friend Anan, and although Saranya was the only one Shannon and I knew, we all came together as naturally as if we had known each other for years and were in the habit of getting together. After hugging and greeting each other, we walked from South Station to Union Oyster House, less than a mile away.
Saranya wanted boiled lobster—from Maine, of course—and that was one of the reasons why we chose the Union Oyster House. Saranya insisted that Eve and Anan have lobster, too, and the dinners were a big hit. The service at Union Oyster House was what you might call leisurely, but that suited us just fine. Basically, all we wanted was to be together and to talk.
And talk we did, as we walked the streets of Boston. The skies were gray, and a fine sprinkle of snow fell on us. We wandered around Faneuil Hall Marketplace, admiring the big Christmas tree and all the lights on the other trees. We had drinks and dessert at a Starbucks—alas, we couldn’t find a local shop that was open—then it was back to Faneuil Hall just in time for an outside light and music show.
To the thundering strains of Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus, the lights on the trees flashed and alternated colors. It was completely over-the-top and utterly enjoyable.
All too soon, it seemed, it was time to return to South Station, where Saranya, Eve, and Anan would take the train back to New York City, and Shannon and I would take the bus back to Maine. Before we parted, Saranya told us how much her time in Maine as an exchange student had affected her. It not only broadened her outlook, but it also made her more independent. I suspect this is true for most exchange students. After all, to live in another culture for any length of time is bound to stretch and change a person, especially one who is on the cusp of becoming an adult. We saw a similar change with our daughter Dee when she spent time in France.
Still it was lovely to hear Saranya mention this and to know we played a major role in her life. Actually, it was a great feeling. All too often we just blunder through our days, not thinking of the ways we affect people.
“Seventeen years is too long,” Saranya said before she left. “Could I come and stay at your house sometime?”
“Of course, of course!” came the immediate reply. “You are always welcome, along with your husband or your sister or anyone else you want to travel with.”
“When is the best time to come?”
I told her to come in August or September, when the weather is fine, and we could spend a lot of time on the patio. Clif could grill chicken and bread, and I could make homemade ice cream. Or maybe we’d have a fire in the fire pit and make s’mores. As dusk settled over the backyard, we could listen to the crickets sing, and then as the sky became really dark, we could look at the stars. Late summer is one of Maine’s most beautiful times.
So come to Maine in August or September, Saranya, and don’t wait seventeen years.
Saranya, Eve, and Anan
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Notes From the Hinterland 