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.
Yesterday, I helped my friend Sybil pack and sort as she enters the final phase of moving from a condo to an apartment. Because my husband, Clif, and I are a one-car family, I had to take him to work so that I could use the car. On the way, I noticed a couple of new things—a portion of the road was torn up, and the Burger King was completely demolished. (Naturally, a new one is being built to replace it.)
“Do you know,” I said to Clif, “that I haven’t been out of Winthrop in two and a half weeks?”
He just shook his head and smiled. “If I didn’t have to go to work every day, the same would probably be true for me.”
Clif and I certainly are prime examples of homebodies. When I mentioned my two-and-a-half week stint to a friend, her response was, “My, Lord! What did you do?”
This started me thinking. What did I do in Winthrop—population 6,000—for two and a half weeks? Every day that it was nice, I went on a ten-mile bike ride, on a route that takes me by a shimmering lake where loons call to each other. Clif and I went to the town’s book sale, art show, and lobster roll luncheon, all of which I wrote about in a previous post. I went to an author talk—given by Sarah Braunstein—and to book group at Bailey Public Library. I volunteered at our local food pantry. I made bread for family and friends. I met my friend Barbara Penrod for lunch at a restaurant in town where the food is not great, but it is good enough. I wrote pieces for this blog, and I made good progress on the children’s fantasy novel I’m writing—Maya and the Book of Everything.
While I didn’t physically go very far, I kept in touch with family and friends via the Internet. I read about Ali’s garden at the blog Henbogle, and I got suggestions for good books to read from Nan at her blog, Letters from a Hill Farm. I traveled through various books to an unnamed city in England where the battle between good and evil is fought not only in a boarding school but also in families (Charlie Bone and the Shadow by Jenny Nimmo); to Pittsburgh where I followed an old woman through the seasons as she deals with aging, family matters, and the inevitable disappointments that life brings (Emily, Alone by Stewart O’Nan); and I explored the nature of “tick-tock” time and “time alive” in The Magicians by J. B. Priestley.
Then, of course, there was Irene to prepare for and the resulting power outage.
I even developed a couple of new recipes, one of which I’ll share in this post. This recipe—salmon patties with basil and garlic—came about because I had leftover garlic and basil mashed potatoes. I decided to make salmon patties out of them, and Clif and I liked them so much that we both agreed it would be worthwhile to make the garlic and basil mashed potatoes especially for the patties and not just because we had leftovers.
All in all, it was a busy two and a half weeks even though I didn’t leave Winthrop.
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.
For some reason, even though I am Franco-American, I love all things English—the literature, the countryside, the dogs, the tea, the sense of humor, the stiff upper lips, and, yes, even the food. Plain food cooked well can be very good indeed, and from a trip to England I took long ago, I have fond memories of scones, steak pies, and crispy fish and chips.
In a recent post, I wrote about the Miss Read books, written by Dora Saint and set in small English villages. Food is a regular feature in these novels—steak pies, gingerbread, and even curries. But one dish that makes a regular appearance is fish with parsley sauce, and after reading about it so many times, I decided to have a go at making it.
I did some research on the Internet and found all sorts of variations on this sauce, which is basically a white sauce with—you guessed it—parsley. Some of the sauces had wine, some had shallots, some had garlic, and some had to be strained. I decided to make a simple white sauce flavored with garlic, and the sauce, in turn, would go over baked haddock.
My husband, Clif, and I loved this dish. Chalk up another one for England. (I know. They’ve had their problems lately, but let’s face it, we live in troubled times.) The smooth garlicky white sauce flecked with parsley was a perfect accompaniment with baked haddock, brushed with oil and lemon juice and sprinkled with salt and pepper.
“Good enough for company,” Clif said, as he went back for seconds.
This started me thinking about having a very English dinner party. For starters, we would have sherry and salted nuts (two more things frequently featured in the Miss Read books). Then, the main meal—red potatoes, green beans, and fish with parsley sauce. Technically, potatoes are not English. They come from this country, of course. But the English have folded them into their cuisine so thoroughly that it seems as though potatoes have always been there. For dessert, I would serve gingerbread.
I like this idea so much that come October or the beginning of November, I just might host such a dinner party. In the meantime, Clif and I will be eating fish with parsley sauce at least a couple of times a month.
Fish with Parsley Sauce
Makes enough for four servings
The Sauce
1 clove garlic, chopped
1 tablespoon of butter
1 tablespoon of flour
1 cup of milk
Salt and pepper to taste
2 tablespoons of parsley, chopped
The Fish
1 1/2 pounds of haddock or some other filleted fish
2 slices of lemon
olive oil
Salt and pepper
Heat oven to 400°. Grease a large pan or cookie sheet and lay fish in pan. Brush with olive oil, squeeze lemon slices over fish—by all means use more lemon if you like a real lemony taste. Season with salt and pepper. Bake for 15 or 20 minutes, depending on thickness of fish. The fish should be flaky but moist. Do not overcook or fish will be dry.
While the fish is cooking, make the white sauce. Melt the 1 tablespoon of butter in a saucepan. Add the garlic and let it sizzle for just a bit—a half minute or so. You don’t want to burn the garlic. Add the flour and stir well until you have a paste. Whisk in the milk. Once it is well mixed, stir sauce with a wooden spoon until the mixture has thickened. Start with the heat on medium. You will have to turn the heat to low once the mixture thickens so that it won’t boil. A good way to tell when the sauce is done: It will leave a line on the back of the wooden spoon. When the sauce is done, stir in the parsley and salt and pepper to taste.
The best way to serve the fish and parsley sauce is to plate the fish and to drizzle sauce on the fish. Add some red potatoes, some green beans or carrots, and you have yourself an attractive plate.
Note: When I made the sauce for Clif and me, there were leftovers. I plan to thin the sauce a bit with some milk, add canned salmon, and serve it over potatoes.
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.
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.
