Articles
The stories that Bertha’s spoon can tell
When Bertha was a mere teenager, she started working with Dr. North’s family in Montclair, N.J., mostly to help take care of the Norths’ five children. She stayed for the rest of her working life, taking on the work of cooking and serving. Married to Chester Turpin, she came to the North’s house daily excepting
Thinking of deer meat on Thanksgiving eve
The only meat that we know for certain was served at the so-called First Thanksgiving in 1622 was deer meat. It was accompanied by “fowl,” which in the New England autumn can encompass quite a number of feathered creatures. Most of us assume that included turkey because like to have turkey on our Thanksgiving. Some
Big, scary food I have loved
You won’t catch me jumping out of an airplane, rappelling down a cliff, or sleeping overnight in a hammock strung over a chasm. I do, however, regularly indulge myself in what some people seem to consider the culinary equivalent of bungee jumping: cooking for a big crowd. Most perfectly competent home cooks have qualms about
Eating ‘out’ on an island is an illusion
There’s no such thing as an intimate dinner out for two on an unbridged Maine island. Here in Penobscot Bay, on Islesboro, there might be someone we don’t know sitting nearby at the Community Center Café, or enjoying a Wednesday night dinner there, or up at the new barbecue place, Seasmoke, but generally anonymity is
Mustard and milkweed, the rewards of neglect
Normally, I would pull the stuff up and heave it on the nearest compost pile. After all, I am jealous of rich soil, water and garden space on behalf of the vegetables, herbs and flowers I plant there, but the milkweed and mustard in question planted itself in the front yard and in the disturbed
Celebrating the Summer Food cookbook… and memories
Summer Food, a grand community cookbook of recipes just published by Islesboro’s Tarratine Club, reminds me how closely food and memory are linked. Add vacation, long-beloved island summer homes, and at least three meals a day, and you are in for a grand wallow in memory and memory-making. Summer at last, there’s time to cook
In praise of rhubarb
Two feet of dirt was piled on top of the old rhubarb plant last fall. I mourned, thinking I would never see it again. I had a septic system installed and added a flush toilet to my bathroom. I consoled myself with the thought that I had divided the rhubarb and put the division in
You’ve got to fight for your right to dry
The last time Google Earth flew over my house and took a picture, I had laundry hanging out to dry. The clothesline is strung between the ell of the house and the barn, and the sheets and other white wash I hung out that day create a bright and noticeable line. I can even see
Evaporated and condensed is underappreciated
Growing up in the early 1950s, visiting at my gram’s house, I was accustomed to seeing a can of evaporated milk on the table that the grownups put into their coffee. Those days, my gram, Mom and Dad, and lots of my other relatives always used instant coffee. My gram let me have a taste
The go-to du jour: Soup’s on
Someone once said that if you need to make more of a dish, just add to it whatever you have most of. That would hardly ever be beef steaks or lobster. Water? No problem. To feed a crowd on a little, make soup. That’s why we have soup kitchens, but not roast chicken kitchens. Still,