Recently, my husband, Clif, celebrated his 60th birthday, and as we are both very keen on biking, we thought that over the course of the week, we would ride 60 miles in honor of his 60 years. Unfortunately, our schedules and the weather did not allow us to reach our goal. No matter! We went 48 miles and had a great low-carbon time.
Last night, Clif came home from work a bit early so that we could go on a bike ride. Even though we left our home by 6:00 P.M., it was dark on the last leg of our ten-mile trip along Memorial Drive, which goes by Maranacook Lake. We weren’t really that concerned. There are street lights as you get closer to town, and we have reflectors, lights, and flashers on our bikes. This means we can see and be seen, and there is something a little thrilling about riding in the night.
On the way back, we stopped at the public beach to look across the dark water at the lights and the night sky.
Then, it was on to Mia Lina’s, a better than average pizza place, for a Friday-night treat of Lina bread and a salad.
After supper we rode home, across busy Route 202, where there was night construction, and the kind road workers stopped traffic for us; down pretty Highland Avenue, with its street lights and big leafy trees; and finally onto Narrows Pond Road, where there are no street lights at all. Last night, it was so dark—no moon, no stars—that it looked as though we were about to enter a great, black tunnel on Narrows Pond Road. Down we went on our trusty bikes, our little lights beaming a safe course between the road and the ditch until we turned into our own driveway.
Well, Clif’s birthday is over and with it our little “staycation,” where Clif took off several days so we could go on bike rides and spend time on the patio, one of our favorite places. We also drove (in the car) to Brunswick to visit our friend Sybil. The conversation, as always, was great, and we went to see the Edward Hopper exhibit at the Bowdoin College Museum of Art. Afterward, we had gelato at Gelato Fiasco. What a day!
Clif and I had such a good time on our staycation—the weather cooperated beautifully—that we plan on doing it again next year. We spent very little money, and with all the biking we did, our carbon footprint was pretty small. Best of all, even though we stayed home, we really did vary our routine by putting most of our chores and projects on hold so that we could bike, relax, and visit with a friend. As a result, even though Clif and I are sorry that our staycation is over, we feel refreshed and ready to return to our usual schedule with its many activities. As my Franco-American mother might have said about our staycation: It changes the mind.
During our staycation, we also had a supreme foodie experience: We made ice cream. For his birthday, Clif received an ice cream maker. (Thanks so much, Bob and Kate!) A little booklet, complete with recipes, came with the maker, and a quick look at the chocolate ice cream recipe confirmed that I had most of the ingredients in my kitchen—milk, sugar, vanilla, cocoa powder. I would also need heavy cream, which I didn’t have, but a trip to the grocery took care of that.
While there is quite a bit of preplanning involved in making ice cream—the machine’s barrel must be frozen, and the milk-cream mixture must be chilled for several hours—the hands-on time is minimal. Truly, the results are so exquisite that planning ahead is a small price to pay for what Clif called “The best ice cream I’ve ever had.” And once the mixture is chilled, it only takes about 20 minutes for the ice cream maker to whip it into a frozen delight.
It is my guess that from now on, we will seldom buy premade ice cream. I’m going to experiment with substituting milk for the cream, which will cut down on the calories and the fat. I will be using organic milk and other wholesome ingredients, and my cost will be a fraction of what it would be to buy a similar product at the store.
Below are pictures of the birth of ice cream. Oh, the joy.
Yesterday was Clif’s birthday, and as I noted in my previous post, our plan was to ride the loop around Maranacook Lake, a trip of about 17 miles. The day turned out to be sunny and astonishingly warm for late September—perfect for a bike ride—and in the afternoon, off we went.
On the way, we stopped in Winthrop to do a couple of errands—to buy stamps from the post office and to drop off books at the library. I love to combine things, and the “green bean” in me thinks that it’s good for people to see Clif and me not only ride our bikes for pleasure and exercise but also to use the bikes for in-town errands. (I actually have my eye on a bike trailer so that we can do more ambitious errands like, say, going to Hannaford for groceries.)
When the errands were done, we started our loop, which began at the public beach in Winthrop. On our way down Memorial Drive, we heard the tremolo call of a loon, such a soulful sound and so much a part of the lakes region we live in. Maranacook flashed and glimmered to our right, and then disappeared from view for quite a few miles.
Down hill and up hill we rode, and one hill in particular—on Beaver Dam Road—did quite a bit for my cardiovascular health. I was certainly breathing hard by the time I reached the top, where in Maine fashion, the road suddenly changed names, even though it seemed like the same road. Now we were on South Road, a lovely lane of a road that goes through woods and by fields with grazing cows.
The next leg of our journey was on Route 17, where the cars are fast and plentiful. There are two saving features to this part of the ride. The first is that there is a bike lane—glory be!—so there is a bit of space between bikers and cars. The second is that sparkling Marancook again comes into view, and it is always welcome to see the water.
As we rode into Readfield proper, I admired the old houses, mostly white, but some yellow and red, with the large front porches. They looked so serene and solid, as though the changes through the years have buffed them but have not worn them down.
Granola bar, granola bar, I thought as we approached the center of town and the corner market that conveniently has a little outside table. Clif and I shared an iced tea, contentedly munched our granola bars, and quite literally watched the traffic go by, as we were sitting right by the road.
Granola bar time (And, no, this is not product placement)
Now we were ready for the last leg of our journey, down Route 41, where we would get another flashing view of Maranacook Lake. It is also the hilliest part of ride, and although none were as steep as the one on Beaver Dam Road, it was a steady grind as we pedaled up, up, up.
Blue Maranacook Lake
But then it was down, down, down, and we were back by the public beach in Winthrop, where we could rest and admire this large lake before heading home.
“A good way to spend a birthday,” Clif said.
Yes, it was. And between the two rides on Monday and Tuesday, we have gone 30 miles—half-way to our goal of riding 60 miles this week in honor of Clif’s 60th birthday.
Last Saturday, we celebrated Clif’s 60th birthday with food, family, and friends—the three essentials. Clif had decided he wanted a chili party—chili being one of his favorite dishes—and as I’ve mentioned in an earlier post, the past two weeks have been a flurry of cooking and cleaning. Clif took off the Friday before the party, and it was a bit of a hobbit’s birthday for him as he helped with various chores, including making the chili. Clif didn’t mind one bit, and I was reminded of the line in the lovely prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi: For it is in giving that we receive.
The day of the party was gray and wet, but inside all was cozy and warm. Appetizers and salad were set on the round table in the dining room, and in the kitchen were three kinds of chili, which guests could serve themselves. For appetizers we had homemade crackers with an olive and rosemary cream cheese dip; hummus with carrots and cucumbers; chips and salsa; slices of smoked cheddar; and courtesy of Kate Johnson, fresh homemade baguettes with a walnut, sun-dried tomato pesto, also homemade and incredibly good. John Clark brought homemade bread from a farmers’ market, and I made cornbread. My salad was extremely simple—leaf lettuce, snipped very small (Thanks, Dawna, for this idea!), with roasted beets, crumbled feta, toasted almonds, and a homemade vinaigrette. By the end of the party, the salad was pretty much gone, and this is the first time this has happened with a salad at one of my parties. I guess it’s a make-again salad.
In fact, I am happy to report that we had lots of good eaters on Saturday, and while there were leftovers, there really weren’t that many. Nothing makes this hostess happier than seeing guests eat with gusto, and they certainly did at this party.
We all gathered in the living room for cake and presents, and Clif gave a fine little speech about how as we move through our lives, we begin and end with friends and family. He also spoke of the importance of having interests and that some people, as they age, are at a loss as to how to fill their days. Clif expressed gratitude for having family, friends, and interests, and around the room, there was much nodding of heads.
Speaking of interests…biking is one of ours, and over the summer we have biked nearly every day, weather permitting. We decided that this week, in honor of Clif’s birthday, we would ride at least 60 miles. (Clif is taking several days off, a sort of mini-vacation.)
Yesterday, we went on a 13-mile ride, and today, on Clif’s actual birthday, we plan on riding around Maranacook Lake, from Winthrop to Readfield, which is about 17 miles. That will make 30 miles, with 30 more miles to go.
Next week, my husband, Clif, will be turning 60, and tomorrow we are having a chili party to mark the big occasion. Our daughter Dee is coming from New York, and the South Portland contingent—our daughter Shannon and her husband, Mike—will of course be there. We have also invited some good friends to help us celebrate.
The past two weeks have been a flurry of cleaning. If I were as good a housekeeper as my mother was, then there would have been no need for the flurry of cleaning because everything would have been clean all along. My mother was a legendary cleaner. Once, Mom won the services of a professional cleaner, and when that woman came to do her job, she took one look at my mom’s house and asked, “What am I supposed to clean?” Let’s just say that she would never ask that question in my house.
But I’m happy to say that the house looks pretty good. Still not as good as Mom’s, but not bad. Now, it’s on to the cooking. Yesterday I made a quadruple batch of crackers—the recipe is adapted from the one in Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything Vegetarian—and the crackers came out just the way I like—a dark, golden brown. Into a big tin they went to keep them fresh. I also roasted beets for the salad I’ll be making, which will also include lettuce, roasted almonds, and feta cheese. And I made a simple vinaigrette, using sage, oregano, mint, and rosemary from my garden.
So those things are done. Today is the day for my biggest challenge—the birthday cake. Cakes are not my strong suit, and it probably stems from the fact that I am somewhat indifferent to cake. It’s not that I dislike it, but when it comes to dessert, there are many choices I would make first, with pie being right at the top. (This might also explain why making pie crust is a snap for me.) Somehow, my cakes have a tendency to fall. However, there is one cake I have consistent success with, and, luckily it is one of Clif’s favorites—buttermilk spice cake. As soon as this post is written, I’ll be making that cake, and you can bet I’ll be praying to the cake gods to smile on me so that the cake doesn’t fall. (Quite sensibly, we have a Plan B: a cake from Whole Foods if my cake falls.)
After cake, there is a bit more cleaning, and then getting the ingredients ready for the chili. Then there is the cream cheese olive and rosemary spread to go with the crackers. A busy day!
I hope to get pictures of the food and the party tomorrow. When we have a party, I am usually distracted by my duties as hostess, and I might have my daughter Dee take pictures.
Last September, Shane-Malcolm Billings, a new librarian at Winthrop’s Bailey Public Library, started a book group featuring contemporary fiction. Even though I had just been diagnosed with breast cancer, I decided to join the group as I figured it would give me something more positive to focus on than breast cancer. I wasn’t sure how many people would join, but it didn’t matter to me whether the group was small or large. Either way, I would be paying close attention to the selected book and then discussing it with others, and this would be a welcome interlude from radiation and fatigue.
As it turned out, I was right about book group. It did give me something positive to focus on, and in addition it served as a sort of ballast, a way to steady myself during a turbulent time. I am an avid reader, and books provide many things for me—pleasure, illumination, information, inspiration, and comfort. (However, not surprisingly, no one book provides all these things.)
It also turned out that book group drew in quite a few readers—all women—and it’s a rare meeting when we don’t have at least 10 people. Often, there are more, and while I don’t have any hard numbers, it seems to me that there must be over 20 people who come at least some of the time, with a solid core who come most of the time.
There has been another bonus for me as well. Over the years, I had stopped reading fiction and had turned to nonfiction. This was not because I didn’t value fiction but rather because I had become more interested in topics covered in nonfiction. The book group’s emphasis on fiction has spurred me to vary my reading diet, so to speak, and as a result I have read, outside of book group, some very fine fiction, including Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand; Emily, Alone; Atonement; Other Voices, Other Rooms;and the Charlie Bone series.
Last night, we had a little party to celebrate our one-year anniversary of book group. A lot of members came—I would say there were at least 20 of us—and we had a potluck with some very tasty food. As part of our celebration, we all chose our favorite book from book group—mine was Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese—and we discussed the difficult but compelling (at least for me) Great House by Nicole Krause.
The potluck was so much fun that I hope we do it again next September for our second-year anniversary. In the meantime, we’ll have more interesting books to read and discuss.
Thank you, Shane, for starting this group, and thank you to all the women who come and make this group so lively, stimulating, and fun. I often disagree with the various opinions, but I always find it fascinating that there can be such a divergence of opinions on the same book.
I’m looking forward to another year of book group.
Last Saturday, a fine September day complete with a glorious September blue sky, my husband, Clif and I headed to Marlborough, Massachusetts, to attend the wedding of Andrea Maddi, a young woman whom we have known since she was six years old. Andrea has been friends with our daughter Shannon all through the years, and we quite literally have watched her grow up. I always find these rites of passage very moving, even though it, of course, means that I am growing old. But the young are taking their place in the world, which is as it should be, and somehow this is a great comfort to me. We all move on.
Clif and I left early to head “south,” and like many Mainers, I am always a little nervous crossing the Piscataqua River Bridge, the big bridge out of Maine that goes from Kittery to Portsmouth, New Hampshire. Conversely, it is always a great relief to cross that bridge back into Maine, to be coming home. I know. I am a hobbit by nature. Home is best.
The trip itself was uneventful. We didn’t get lost, we arrived with plenty of time to eat our lunch—yogurt, pretzels, and an apple—and change our clothes at the hotel where our daughter Shannon (the matron of honor in the wedding) and her husband, Mike, were staying.
Andrea and her husband, Ben Arnott, were married in a little white New England church with its very own steeple. The church was on a green, of course, and just up the road from a grist mill with a water wheel that proved to be the perfect spot for wedding photos.
Andrea, elegant as always, was a lovely bride. She and Ben were clearly thrilled to be getting married, and truly they both had a beautiful glow on their faces. No amount of money or trappings can compensate for this glow, which would make even the humblest place shine.
Andrea and Ben getting married
The reception was at a country club not far from the church, and readers, the food was very good, probably the best I have ever had at a wedding. Some of the delights included little crab cakes; chicken wrapped in phyllo dough; creamy squash soup; a basil, mozzarella, and tomato salad drizzled with a balsamic vinaigrette; and for Clif and me, tender, juicy fillet mignon, cooked just right. (There were two other main meal choices as well.)
The saladThe main meal
During the meal, we sat next to a young man named Gordon Stocks IV. (His young son is Gordon Stocks V.) Gordon is the husband of Glenna, Andrea’s bridesmaid, and Gordon not only proved to be “a good eater,” cleaning his own plate as well as some from his wife’s plate, but he was also lively and engaging. In the course of our conversation we learned that Gordon owns his own tree service business. He’s the guy you call when a tree comes down in an inopportune place like, say, across your driveway or on the roof of your house. Or, if you’re smart, you call him to remove a tree before it falls someplace you’d rather not have it fall. If the tree is big and in a tight spot, Gordon climbs the tree to remove it piece by piece, which is why he can be both a good eater and very trim.
What interested me about Gordon and Glenna is how they have constructed their lives. Gordon has chosen a fairly nontraditional career. Let’s face it, not every young man wants to be spend his days shinnying up trees and splitting wood. But Gordon loves it, the challenges as well as the physical work. Glenna freelances as a graphic designer and also tends bar a couple of nights a week. This allows her to spend much of her time with her little son.
Early in their relationship, Glenna and Gordon bought a two-family house in town. Over time, this allowed them to buy five acres in the country and have a house built, where they did much of the work themselves. They have a garden and want to expand it as time goes on. Glenna, a girl after my own heart, would like to have chickens and other farm animals, too.
Through common sense, hard work, and careful planning, Glenna and Gordon are thriving in a time where it is not always easy to thrive. Not everyone could choose the path they have taken, but it certainly shows how with creativity, it is still possible for young couples to live a good life.
This, in turn, brings me back to Andrea and Ben. May they, too, thrive in these challenging times and live a good, creative life.
As I was eating my lunch this noon, a delivery truck pulled into our driveway, and a young man handed me a small, very well insulated box. Inside, beneath two little ice packs, I would find exquisite chocolates from Z Chocolat. They were a present from daughter Dee. Oh, happy day! I immediately ate 2 chocolates—there were 15 in the box, and discerning readers will note there are 13 in the picture below. The chocolates have numbers on them, and a little booklet is included so that you can read all about the chocolate you are eating. After taking the picture, I tucked those chocolates back in the box to remove them from temptation. It is probably an exaggeration to state that I could have eaten all 15 chocolates in one sitting. However, I certainly could have had a few more. Maybe even four more. But I will spread the pleasure out, and I’ll even share the chocolates with my husband, Clif.
From the blog Henbogle: Ali takes on Mark Bittman and his dismissive treatment of pie. A staunch defender of pies, Ali includes photos of her own beautiful creations.
From the New York Times: In France, politicians from the left and the right come together over—surprise!—food. My favorite quotation in the piece comes from a deputy in the National Assembly (think Congress) : “It is our national responsibility to cook and to eat well.” If only our politicians would subscribe to this philosophy!
From the Portland Press Herald: Angela May Bell, a vegan and a long-distance runner, explains how she combines the two. The article includes a picture of her, and let’s just say that Bell looks very, very healthy.
More from the New York Times: Oh, those French! Timothy Egan explores why they eat so well and yet manage to stay slim and healthy.
Addendum: I came across this blurb from the Bowdoin Daily Sun after I posted today’s piece: What one man with one reusable cup can save in trash over the years. The numbers really add up. I am not as diligent in this regard as I should be, and Chris Taylor’s example reminds me to try harder. Fifteen thousand cups is a lot of cups to not go in the landfill.
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Notes From the Hinterland 