Clare says that Maine has more coastline than California. She recommended Camden as a good spot to stay for the Lobster Fest. And Dolly recommended taking in the view of the harbor from the Camden Deli. The photo above is trom the upper deck of the deli. Clare didn't know about specific places to stay; I found the Maine Stay Inn through a combination of Internet and phone calls. What a find.
As I mentioned in Part One of the story, Maine Stay is owned by Roberta and Claudio, an Italian couple from Rome. In a kind of reverse of Frances Mayes' search for a villa in Tuscany that resulted in finding Bramasole and Cortona, Roberta and Claudio looked for an American B&B. Rome is now a place they visit, not live.
It was a pleasure to chat with Roberta. I told her that I found her story fascinating. She explained that Roman traffic (their commuting time) and tourists (she quoted a number in the millions) made them want to make a change. She said they had traveled all over the United States, ruled out California because of earthquakes and looked at around 30 B&Bs.
They wanted a real home, making their search more complicated since owning a B&B often involves living "above the store." At Maine Stay, there is a renovated barn attached and they have their own space.
They have infused Maine Stay with paintings and prints and there are beautiful antique pieces of furniture from their home in Italy. The picture below is one of the parlors and you get a sense of the way they have integrated their homeland in their now home.
I feel at home anywhere an image of Venice is displayed. My dad bought a picture of St. Mark's Square that hung over our living room sofa for as long as I can remember. I think he got it at K-Mart; but he loved the scene. My aunt and uncle who lived up the street had a similar one. When we were selling my parents house, Martin rescued it from the dumpster and it now hangs in his apartment.
Roberta is stylish and energetic; Claudio is soft-spoken and gracious. The B&B is a lot of work Roberta offered, but added, "I love it." "Visit the gardens", she said. When another guest asked her about the wicker furniture on the sun porch, she explained that she would be repainting it over the winter. We stayed in the third floor suite, with two bedrooms. Roberta had recently converted it from three separate rooms.
There were so many thoughtful touches to the Inn and the grounds. Fresh cut flowers, homemade cookies and lemonade in the pantry, quiet gathering spaces in the gardens, books about the house and the area and hot-cooked breakfasts. The artichoke quiche and home made granola with strawberries as well as the scones were extra special.
It was lovely. For more on the Inn, visit http://www.camdenmainestay.com/.
When we arrived at Friendship, Maine, Dolly was just about to set out for the dock to pick up the lobster. She was gathering styrofoam coolers and chests and we decided to tag along. In a kind of entourage, some of us on foot and Dolly and Brenda in the car, we made our way to a space where Arnold, the lobsterman, greeted us. He must be a kind of local celebrity. Dolly told him that she had purchased a photo of him just that morning during the Friendship Days celebration. He is pictured on the dock, with the sea and his work space as background, and the caption reads, "The Office".
Fifty-five lobster were carried in buckets and then transferred to the coolers. Still alive, their claws were confined by rubber bands that I was told would come in handy later as guests used them to ping each other. I don't understand the chemical reaction that makes live lobsters look black and cooked lobsters red.
As we were leaving, Arnold shared some pictures of a magazine photo shoot (I think he said Vogue) with gorgeous models positioned against the backdrop of Arnold's 'office'.
In my previous post, I mentioned that Dolly hosts this annual Lobster Fest, a friend and family annual reunion of sorts. It is the best kind of holiday, one created by a group of friends and family with its own food and traditions. One of the guests told me that they have been gathering for 16 years and the tradition actually dates back to Dolly's late mother.
This year, there were a few newbies like us, others who have attended sporadically and some real regulars, for whom this is an annual homecoming. It was an eclectic mix of ages, geographies, and personalities and we had a splendid time. Never having taken apart a whole lobster, I would have been lost but for the man at my right who showed me the proper way to extract that sweetest of seafood from the shell and how to crack its claws. After a few minutes of chatting, I realized that the man at my right was someone I knew slightly professionally years ago and we reconnected over lobster lessons.
It was a joy to be part of this special group for a day and to experience a day in the Maine village called most appropriately, Friendship. Thank you, Dolly.
Looking forward to leaving the sweltering heat and humidity of the 'Burgh and traveling to Maine later this week. My friend Dolly hosts an annual lobster fest at her family home that I have been wanting to attend for years. This year it looks like the stars have finally aligned and JB and I will get to go and eat lobster and sit on Dolly's front porch. She grew up literally across the street from where the lobster fishermen keep their boats (or whatever the correct nautical term is) with a view of the Atlantic Ocean. She once showed me a coffee table book by Walter Cronkite that had an aerial view of the house and her quaint Maine village. How idyllic.
The place I grew up in was a suburb of a steel mill town; my childhood memories are of hearing slag trucks drive by as they carried the remnants of steel making to another suburb to form the foundation for a new shopping mall. There was not a lot of physical beauty. We would take occasional trips to county or state parks and vacations to Boston, where my dad lived just after he immigrated to the US. On those trips, I caught a glimpse of what people who grow up in coastal areas experience.
St. Augustine is quoted as saying -- "The world is a book and those who do not travel read only a page." I want to read many pages. The book, "1,000 Places to See Before You Die: A Traveler's Life List" sits on a table in our family room.
This week I get to go somewhere new that is listed there, Acadia National Park. Since Clare is spending the summer in Maine, we will get to spend time with her too. She suggested places to stay, and encouraged us to look beyond the Marriotts, at least for a few nights. And so we have compromised and I have B&B reservations for three nights. She further recommended Camden, Maine as a place to stay. B & B reservations can be a little diffcult to come by for three people during Maine's high season. After some online searching and phone calling, I found myself in conversation with a woman speaking with an accent I could not easily identify. At first I thought it odd, since I expected to hear that distinctive Maine pronunciation that Dolly first introduced me to and that I have since come to recognize on trips to Maine with Clare.
The B&B reservations person who happens to be the owner apologized for her difficulties and mentioned that she is Italian. Italian?? How would an Italian end up running a B&B on the coast of Maine? Through the joys of the Internet, I was able to read the story of an Italian couple's life in Rome, interest in US travel and decision to move to Maine.
It's pretty hard for me to understand how someone would want to leave Rome and relocate to a beautiful, yet seasonally challenging place like Maine (think sub-zero and snowed in for months on end).
I am looking forward to meeting her and hope to post more soon about their travels and ours too.
Remember the Baltimore Catechism? Those of us of a certain age sure do. Written in question and answer format, we were required to commit much of it to memory, so we could readily cough up the answers to questions like, "Who Made Me?". ("God made me", is the quick, semi-automatic response).
There was brevity and clarity associated with these crisp responses; but I can't say that I have been able to resolve the more challenging questions life has presented me by pulling out and applying memorized answers. Lately though, some similar questions and the resulting knee-jerk responses have actually been helpful in this journey to better health and well-being.
I once read a recommendation to avoid eating (or drinking) any food or drink that your grandmother would not recognize. That feels right--wine's OK; Mike's Hard Lemonade, probably not. Piece of fruit, good. A 'gotta have it' treat from Coldstone Creamery? Don't think so. And my grandmothers likely ate pretty good stuff -- bread, pasta, vegetables, fruits. My maternal grandmother was a wiry, trim woman. My paternal grandmother was a bit broader and my overall build seems more to resemble hers. I have previously described my strong family history of diabetes. So maybe the 'grandmother test' isn't the best.
I've been thinking more about applying the 'God-Baltimore Catechism' test to the "Can/Should I Eat This?" question. I've been asking myself, "Who Made This?" If God did make it and it is still looks close to the way He made it, then I'm thinking it's probably fine. So, blueberries, yes; blueberry cobbler with ice cream, no. Fish or meat? Hey, I think Jesus ate those! Pasta? That's a tough one -- it is processed. For awhile I am taking a pass. And chocolate? Don't think so.
That still leaves lots of options. It's fresh corn season; tomatoes and cherries too. And something is working, albeit verrrrry slowly. Down another pound this week. Total of 10 pounds off now (pCR or post Canyon Ranch) and just over 27 in total.
They're making tee-shirts now that we are at baseball's All-Star Break. I saw one in the window of a South Side shop, with a picture of a pirate ship and '.500' printed below. There have been attendance records set at PNC Park this summer, as both Pirate and out-of-town fans have flocked to see real live competitive baseball again. JB and I attended a sell-out earlier this summer and saw the Bucs defeat Detroit. It was kind of weird though. We are used to watching away games of the Steelers and seeing Terrible Towels and hearing cheers for the Steelers, sometimes almost drowning out the home team. It's kind of the reverse phenomenon as we see and hear fans from Detroit, or Philadelphia or Boston, as they travel to PNC Park and enjoy rooting for their home teams. After nearly 20 years of losing, It feels good to go to a game in anticipation of the game itself and not the gorgeous views, fireworks, the bobble heads or the company.
What's made the difference? I am no expert. But it must have something to do with management -- at least that is the one thing that I know has changed. I've been noticing a sign that I drive by on the way to work for a local bar/restaurant that says "Under New Management". Those signs used to be common. I guess it's a way of communicating that changes have been made and we know our food or product or service hasn't been good and that something is now different. Since they can't put up signs that say things like, "we fired the SOB that used to run this place" or "we finally have a chef that actually went to cooking school", businesses post a more benign, but clear message. Somebody new is in charge. And isn't that what it often takes to really turn a team or an organization around?
I like to think that maybe I am under new management too. At least some of the time.
Is it true that outdoor dining makes for more satisfying and nourishing meal experiences? For me, it is. And memorable ones too. I can readily pluck recollections of meals served outdoors from my mind, recalling places, vistas, conversations, and yes, foods. Some memories are fresh in my mind because they are so recent. On the Friday before the 4th of July, my friend hosted an outdoor picnic. She has a gift for assembling an eclectic mix of people and the conversation is unpredictable, interesting and fun. That night was no different, but oh, the food. More specifically the beef (we didn't have to ask where it was). I had seen a recipe in the McGinnis Sisters newsletter for a grilled beef fillet, courtesy of the Barefoot Contessa herself, Ina Garten and offered to bring the beef if our expert grillmaster friend would grill it. This baby weighed as much as a baby, and he did an amazing job of tending the grill. The meat was sooooo tender and there was not one morsel of it left at the end of a long and leisurely meal. It was charred on the outside, but practically melted in the mouth. The recipe is:
Grilled Fillet of Beef with Mustard Sauce (courtesy of Ina Garten)
Ingredients (just six, not counting salt and pepper)
- 4 tablespoons of unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
- 2 tablespoons of salt
- 1 tablespoon of freshly ground pepper
- 4 1/2 to 5 pounds fillet of beef tenderloin, trimmed and tied
- 3/4 cup mayonnaise
- 1/4 cup sour cream
- 1 tablespoon coarse mustard
- 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
- 1/4 teaspoon of salt
- 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
Directions:
Heat charcoal or gas grill. With lid on grill, thermometer should register 425-450 degrees. Combine butter, salt and pepper. Using paper towels, pat tenderloin completely dry. Spread seasoned butter over fillet. Place meat on hot grill and close lid tightly. Be sure your grill temperature does not dip below 375 degrees. For rare to medium rare, cook tenderloin approximately 30 minutes, tuning once during grilling until your instant read thermometer reaches 125 degrees. (He did about 5 - 7 minutes longer). Meanwhile, to make sauce: Whisk together all mustard sauce ingredients. When fillet is done, place on a cutting board and cover with aluminum foil; allow to rest about 20 minutes. Slice beef and serve with mustard sauce.
It's not just the recent al fresco times I recall. I have vivid memories of dinners in an arbor with my Dad in Assisi; sitting outside a trattoria in Trastevere with Vespas and Fiats whipping by just inches from our chairs; and two dinners three years apart on the outdoor terrace at Mirabelle, looking out over the hills of Rome.
The photo above is from 2007, when Priscilla and I had an early birthday celebration for her. The appetizers had just been served (note the portions) and the sun was still shining so the awnings were down. Once the sun began to set, the waiter raised the awnings and we had a magnificent, magical view. If you ever get to Rome, the view is priceless (although the food was beaucoup bucks or in the local vernacular, molti soldi). I also remember their homemade souffles, which had to be ordered upon arrival.
Any recommendations for local outdoor dining?
A letter arrived, postmarked June 14, return address Canyon Ranch, tag line "The Power of Possibility (r)" It was addressed to me in my own handwriting. I had no recall of having written it -- kind of like those postcards you fill out to yourself at the dentist office and they mail to you to remind you of your next appointment. Whatever had I written to myself? I procrastinated about opening it -- mostly because I thought it would contain some letter reminding me that there are things I planned to do that I have not done--you know the lose 15 pounds in 15 days types of promises to oneself. After about a week, I peeked in the envelope and pulled out a one page document, titled, 'Commitment to Myself' and dated March 23, 2011. On it I had written a total of 38 words. Three statements of commitment to a healthier style and three changes that would be apparent three months out.
I was pleasantly surprised. Perhaps I did learn something new there about behavior change. The commitments I made were modest -- to incorporate the recommendations for diet change and exercise and to apply my personal values. The changes I hoped to realize have been. They were modest also, having to do with how my clothes fit, my ability to do more challenging yoga and having lower blood sugar levels.
Every day brings challenges and there have been setbacks. Three things I have learned so far in this journey that I talk to myself about consistently.
- Stay in Today (forget yesterday and don't worry about tomorrow). There is a reason why the Lord's Prayer speaks of 'our daily bread'. I only make positive progress when I keep myself firmly planted in the present moment.
- Small Changes. Things like taking the stairs, walking to local destinations (church, coffee shop), parking a longer distance from entrances and remembering to move instead of sit when I can.
- Simple Pleasures. Farmers markets and more real food (I ask myself -- "Who made this and What's in it?") I'm beginning to prefer a more basic diet of fruits, vegetables and meats. And wine, in very small amounts has really helped.
Other results? Went to Weight Watchers this morning. Down a total of 15 pounds since the beginning of the year, nine since Canyon Ranch (and 27 since my all time high). Not earth shattering, but my goal has always been to get 50 pounds off -- 23 more to go and eight months to go.
