Channeling Gene Hackman

We were at a *great* party the other night. Lots of friends and a buffet table loaded with homemade food...fall favorites. Roast turkey with all the trimmings, pork, salads, veggies. You know, the stuff you start craving this time of year. In the midst of it, Brendan - a neighbor and good friend - commented how wonderful it was to settle into home and hearth this time of year. Get together with friends for good times. I agreed.

In fact, it had been a long weekend of "good times."

Thursday night we met friends for dinner in nearby Frenchtown. We had not seen them in a long while, so we had much catching up to do. A later night than usual for us.

Friday night brought more friends to our house for drinks and dinner out at our local inn. More good times.

Saturday it was my turn in the kitchen. Two couples for dinner. Lots of wine, laughter and food and another late nigh.

So as we loaded outselves into the car Sunday night to head out to yet another party - as mentioned above - I guess I should not have been surprised to hear Chris mutter to himself, "This is a bridge too far."

New Directions

Are you a picker or a thrower? Not sure? Let me elaborate...

Maine seems to be breeding the pioneer woman in me. Back to the land. Grow your own food. Raise sheep and spin wool (not!). Learn to make jam without poisoning family and friends. Simple things...good things...humble things. Like afghans - small "a" - something to cozy up under in front of the fire with a good mystery. It all started two weeks ago...


Amy was up for a visit and whilst taking her leisure, pulled out the cutest pair of socks she was in the process of knitting. "AHA!" my mind screeched. "A new endeavor to tackle and conquer," visions of warm socks and sweaters for Chris and me. Beautiful afghans on every bed, chair, bench and sofa. And if I took it to the level of Chris's cousin Viola in Iowa - curtains, bathroom toilet cozies, shower curtains(I kid you not), bedspreads, placemats, throw rugs, hand towels, kitchen sink cloths, chair arm and head covers, pillow covers, small appliance covers, handbags, table scarves, bureau scarves, chest scarves, neck scarves...all over her house. All at the same time. Really. In her favorite color yellow. But I digress. Eagerly I peppered Amy with questions, hungry for the knowledge of all things knitting. That led to a wander to locate yarn shops one rainy afternoon. That led to "EyeCheMama! They want HOW MUCH for that skein of 100% hand raised and spun Alpaca wool! Doing a slow and laborous calculation in my brain (you thought I was going to say "speedy," dint ya) that works out to $50 for a pair of socks. Are you kidding me?

So, of course, I bought enough to make a small lap throw. Size 10 needles will be perfect. Hey, it was all Walmart had in stock. We get back home and I tear into my new-found passion. Hours and hours of furious knitting pass, days of more furious knitting pass, a week gone - poof, just like that - and I have produced three inches of a 60 inch blanket. Hmmmmmm. New plan.

Maybe larger needles would help. And a simpler pattern. And more basic stitches - leave double seed stitch for another day. And MAYBE I could loosen my knitting tension just a wee bit. Afterall, the guage was 7 stitches to the inch, but I was producing 42 per inch. Oh, and just to be clear...stitches is written in knit speak as "sts." So, for example, a typical instruction would read CO 52 sts, on next R, *k 2, p2, yo,* repeat from * to end of R. Easypeasy, right?

So I get bigger needles, find an easier pattern with simpler instructions and commence again. The second half of the afghan came out beautifully. Especially once I mastered the proper way to insert the needle to create a knit stitch and the proper way to insert the needle to create a purl stitch. See, I THOUGHT I knew what I was doing, but through the miracle of the internet and video, I realized I had been DOING IT ALL WRONG. Aaarrrggghhhhh. Well, I was half way through the damn thing and damned if I was going to rip out the damn thing now. So here is a picture of the damn thing!



The piece next to the geranium looks lumpy because the yarn was lumpy (not evenly woven - thick and thin as spun). Amy and I thought it would give interesting texture to the afghan, but it just looks...lumpy. The very bottom section was done in the same yarn but a diffent skein. It doesn't look...lumpy.

To be fair, the last time I tried to knit I was a teenager. Being dyslexic, albeit a high functioning one, it was - shall we say - a painful experience. Add to the fact my teacher was left handed and tried to teach me by having me look in a mirror. (Do you have any idea what a mirror image does to a dyslexic person???? OMG) As an interesting side note, Chris does not let me navigate anymore. That's because there is only an 80% chance I'm right when I say turn left here, which can get really, really exciting when we are in the motor home. But now I am older, wiser, more patient and I have discovered something new (to me, at least) in the world of knitting, something amazing, something better than sliced bread, a Godsend if you will: pattern charts. A pattern chart is a visual "map" of the project; not lines and lines and lines of written instruction. Pictures I can understand!!! It was a Eureka moment for me. Yippeee!

Maybe knitting is my new life calling. My mother told me many times of her Irish grandmother, who was a farm wife living along the coast of Nova Scotia. She produced 15 sons and 3 daughters. Family legend has it she knitted a pair of socks a night. Can you image? Apparently she wore a large cork on her belt and maybe that somehow figured into pushing the needle as she knit along. I have this mental image of someone dressed like Whistler's Mother knitting away in a rocking chair by oil lamp through the long, dark winters of Canada.

Back to my original question. There are two ways to knit - hold the yarn in the right hand and "throw" it over the right needle to produce the next stitch or hold the yarn in the left hand and let the right needle "pick" the yarn for the next stitch. I'm a picker.

A Toast...

Dillon had to leave us today. It was time.

He was the beneficent ruler of the farm and its environs. He bowed to none and all paid homage to him...even the fox.

He greeted all who came to the farm...guests, workmen, delivery people. They were all HIS guests. He devilled more than one worker by stretching out on the hood or roof of their vehicle and he could not be persuaded to get down, sometimes even as the person drove down the drive. My heart stopped more than once to see him atop a pickup truck roof headed for the road.

He took one mate in his life and remained loyal to her memory to the end. They were each other's shadow while together. Often, in winter, they would sit shoulder to shoulder looking out the barn feedroom's south facing window, basking in the sun and each other.

My garden thrived under his watchful eye. No squirrel dared come close and I wouldn't be surprised if he kept the deer away too. Voles and field mice were regularly left at the front door as love offerings. The barn was free of pigeons and rats. Raccoons rarely sighted.

More than once I saw him walk a fence top to get onto a horse's back. The crabbiest of the horses on the farm never objected and let Dillon sit as long as he wished on their warm rump.

He had an ancient soul. Wisdom shown out from his eyes and he carried himself with quiet authority. It was child's play for him to convert the most ardent non-cat lover to a loyal fan. I saw it many, many times.

In the last few years of his dotage, he was granted his heart's desire...to be a house cat. He conducted himself with all gentlemanly manners, I think his polite way of thanking us for the privilege of a soft cushion and warm spot to sleep away the days. His claws stayed sheathed and he bowed to the resident cats and dog with all deference. There was only one incident when Remy decided it would be fun to play with Dillon by pretended to bite him. The only movement I saw on Dillon's part was a very slight movement of his ears and a narrowing of his eyes. Remy froze mid-leap. Game over.

In the end, because we travelled so much, Amelia, Tony and especially Eliana took him in and made sure he knew he was loved. They are special to me for that kindness.

So tonight, when you raise your glass, please say a small toast...

To Dillon

I know, I know...

Happy Fourth of July!

It's been so long, I don't know where to start! So I'll go with pretty... This is the Eden Climber that has FINALLY reached up to the top of the arbor on the west end of the house. I think it has taken at least five years to get this far! My goal is for it to absolutely smother the arbor...won't that be spectacular?





Leaving pretty behind, let me move on to ugly...

Here you are looking at a ripped window awning on the motor home. Behold its bent arm and banged up cover. Chris created this lovely mess when he was putting the motor home into its barn. Smacked right into the barn door - OUCH! Considering the side mirrors only clear the doors by an inch on each side - really - I'm grateful he hasn't removed an entire side. Speaking of mirrors...while driving across the Frenchtown bridge a couple of weeks ago, he clipped the Jeep's side mirror on an oncoming car. Poor Chris. Anybody know the karmic significance of mirror smashing?

Looks like I've got a theme going here, so on to...gaudy! Every year opening day of polo is also a tailgate competition. So this year I wanted to pay homage to polo's roots in India. After some scrounging around in my brain, I decided I would create a Polo Lounge. Scampering around the house, I pulled together anything looking remotely "lounge-ish, polo-ish or India-ish." Walmart came through with $1.75 a yard hot pink fabric and the orange sheers - that was a stroke of luck, if ever there was one.

We won, so we received a wonderful gift basket of food and drink goodies. It was fun.

Yippeee...Maine Pictures

As excited as we are to be in sunny Florida (that's a small inside joke down here…a very bitter inside joke. We have not been outside to sit, eat or entertain ALL season because of the cold weather. But that's a story for another time.) we were even more excited to receive pictures of the kitchen reno in the house in Maine.

Here's a look at what we started with…first the picture from the realtor's website. The second picture is how it looked after we moved in. To open up the gorgeous view, I took down the curtains and Chris took down a row of cabinets over the peninsula.



Here is a longer view from the living room toward the far wall of the kitchen. The windows are to the left of the big black round tray hanging on the wall. The door standing open to the right of the tray goes down to the garage. Lovely carpet on the floor, even in the kitchen - ick. This wall and doorway will be completely gone in the finished space.

The demolition begins!!! Yeee Haw! Now the kitchen is completely open to the living room. The smaller window to the left was over the kitchen sink, but it will be removed in the renovated kitchen. The other two windows will be replaced with new casements.

Layer upon layer it comes back together... Just look at that beautiful new wood floor. Tom did a fabulous job blending new and old flooring together. This picture offers a great look at the new 6' slider which replaced the old steel door out onto the front deck.

In the picture below, the wonderful vintage Frigidaire stove is in place.

The countertops are South American cherry, but still wrapped in plastic. The cabinets are off white except for the unpainted ones visible in the foreground. They will be painted a dark spruce green. The light fixtures are still just hanging by their wires from the ceiling, but they will eventually be put up flush with the ceiling.

Other details include wainscoting with a plate rail. The peninsula below waits for the sink and dishwasher.

This will be my view when I am standing at the sink - looking toward the living room. Just after is the living room picture from the realtor.

We can hardly wait to see it in person.

Celebrating the Irish in Me!

On Wednesday we had fun with a golf cart parade here at the resort. I decided on the theme Irish Spring...mostly because the stores were out of all things Irish by the time I got out there to shop and because the "flowers" were 40% off at Michaels. Saving money always pleasing to the Irish soul. And, no, I don't think the cart actually looks like the hanging gardens of Babylon.

I am one-quarter Irish from my mother's side of the family. The Rodgers hail from Peggy's Cove, near Halifax, Nova Scotia. My grandmother Rodgers was one of 18 - 3 girls and 15 boys. Family lore has it my great-grandmother could knit a pair of socks in one evening.

The other story I remember my mother telling was the night my great grandfather decided it was too cold for the draft horse to sleep in the barn, so he brought it into the kitchen...onto the new linoleum floor. I think they both ended up back in the barn that night. Seems great grand da had a love for a nip of the whiskey from time to time. Well, at least I know I come by it legally.

I look a lot like my mother, who looked a lot like her mother, so maybe someday I'll meet myself coming or going during a visit to Ireland. That would be fun. Visiting Peggy's Cove (of the famed Swiss Air jet crash) is also on my bucket list. With 17 great aunts and uncles there have got to be a few cousins running around up there!

Our board president, Tom, Grand Marshall Larry "O'Whitlow" and Chris waiting for the parade to start.

There are more pictures up on my Facebook page.

Lazy Sunday Morning

My favorite time of the week is Sunday morning. Quiet, full of promise and lacking deadlines or chores. Except maybe a egg-centric breakfast...which is always a treat. This morning we indulged in potato pancakes as I had some left over mashed potatoes to deal with since my refrigerator is not working too well. That's another story, however I'm not going to let that annoyance disturb this beautiful morning!

The cats are in their post-feeding nap mode. Dillon and grandson Spike (foreground) have an uneasy truce over the sofa as a prime nap spot, the center between the cushions being all things perfect for comfy kitty dreaming. It is the only thing they will agree on and Spike is a perfect little snot at all other times toward his grandfather. I guess I am grateful Dillon is so tolerant because in his day he could take down full grown rabbits and big barn rats with one pounce and shake of his victim. We were still in California when Dillon came to us from another horse farm. Our best guess is he is about 20 years of age. A recent change in his diet has brought on a greater level of energy and he seems to be far more comfortable moving around with his broken hip.

While I enjoy a second cup of coffee and contemplate my day, Remy keeps a watchful eye out for squirrels, a word which we have to spell in front of him, by the way. He has quite the vocabulary and the tree-rat word sends him into a frenzy of whining, "Let me out...let me out...let me OUT!" Not that he has a prayer to catching one and I think he really just wants to play if his wagging tail is any indication. Another favorite word is "Lunch!" which I yell to Chris who is typically in his office at that time of the day catching up on emails (or maybe playing solitaire?). Remy dashes to his bowl and begins wolfing down his food...it's so cute. Say "Jeep" in front of him and he almost wags his back end off..."Let's GO!" He has full command of his toy collection and when you ask, will correctly bring you his ball, the ring, the snake or his squeeky toy.

On my To Do List for today is dream up an appetizer to take to our friend's house tonight. Roast beef dinner - yum!

Dipping My Toe in the Oven...

I know we have been gone a long time...but you all understand, right? Thanks for your patience.

I know I probably write about cooking more than anybody cares, but I have special reason to rejoice today...I FINALLY have a stove again. My oven conked out last June and it has taken until now to get it fixed. Now I admit it is partly because we are gone so much so the scheduling of service appointments gets difficult. But a large part of it is the imcompetent manufacturer and back ordered parts, non-existent parts, wrong parts and parts that don't have anything to do with fixing other parts. Sooooo, a $1,000 later, my oven works and we move on...

to scones! About 30 seconds after the repairman left, I fired up the oven and it has hardly had time to cool off! This morning I made Cherry Almond Scones for a leisurely Sunday morning breakfast. Heaven! So to thank you to you for your patience, here is a simple satisfying recipe with endless variations. This goes together in a flash and will make you look like a rock star.


Basic Scones

Pre-heat the oven to 425 F.

Place a shifter over a large mixing bowl and sift all the dry ingredients into the bowl:

2 cups AP flour (300 g.)
2 t. baking power
1 t. salt
1/4 c. sugar

Cut in 6 T. unsalted, cold butter until the butter is in pea sized pieces.

Add any other dry ingredient desired now: dried cherries or raisins or walnuts or fresh blueberries, orange zest - you get the idea.

In another bowl, whisk together the wet ingredients:

3/4 milk
1 egg
and any wet flavoring desired like a teaspoon of vanilla or almond extract.

Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients and pour in the wet. Mix gently until reasonably combined. Scrape it out of the bowl onto a well-floured counter. It will be messy and wet, so use enough flour and knead no more than ten times. The less handling the better.

Pat the mound of dough into a square or a round about 1/2 to 3/4 inch high (it will be about a 7" round) and cut into squares or triangles. Or use a cookie cutter to make large or small rounds. I like triangles.

Bake on a ungreased cookie sheet for 12 to 15 minutes.

Make these savory scones by omitting the sugar and using minced onion, spices, herbs or chives.


I found this scone recipe in a cookbook from one of the windjammers that glide by Ash Island out my Maine living room window with their week-long compliment of guests. I figure my house guests would have to like them too...



I was so frustrated without my oven as I use it almost every day. For example, yesterday I roasted root vegetables for a soup recipe I am trying to re-create from Chase's Daily in Belfast, Maine where we had lunch a couple of weeks ago. Here is an article in the Boston Globe about them. Big chunks of oven roasted beets, potatoes, turnips, carrots and shallots in a garlicy vegetable broth, drizzled with olive oil and croutons. I am drooling just thinking about it. This afternoon I am slow cooking beans to use during the week. Tonight will be shepard's pie with oven roasted brussel sprouts that I guarantee will have even the most ardent brussel sprout hater asking for seconds. Maybe an apple crisp or rustic tart for dessert if I have time. And tomorrow no-knead bread will make an appearance on our table once again. Oh my, have I missed baking bread. And pizza!!! Toasting nuts for salads and making spicey hot roasted tomatoes or caramelized chunks of butternut squash to marry with cool globs of goat cheese over brown rice or lentils. Sorry...I'll stop now.

Euro Trash Talk

Well, I missed it. We were watching CNBC a month or so back when a report came on about the euro falling against the dollar.

I said "If it gets to 1.10, I'm buying some to hold for our next trip to France."

"Good idea. You could use some of that cash you're hiding in all those envelopes under the mattress." Chris replied.

"No way! I'm saving that for a *real* emergency."

Chris looked at me with the Where does she GET this stuff from? expression. "And what emergency would that be?"

"Like if some wacko terrorist drops a nuke on Port Newark and we have to run like scared rabbits for the hills. You won't laugh at me then, when I have cold hard cash so we can barter with the mountain folk. No sirree Bob"

"I see, so that money is for food, fuel and ammunition."

"Food? No, that's what the ammunition is for." Note to self…add varmit rifle to the Emergency Plan Packing List.

I sleep better at night when I have a plan, you know.

Spring Business or Maybe Busy-ness

While Chris was off grunting his way through the installation of a new air filter on the motor home, I decided to take a wander in my garden. First stop was the rhubarb stand tucked away behind the David Austin roses in Brent's entry garden. After wrestling out a goodly amount (and one Borer Beetle) I pondered on what to do with it all. Growing up, my mom used to make rhubarb sauce, which we dumped over vanilla ice cream. Serious yum, to say nothing of the sugar buzz. Didn't know about all the evils of sugar back then, I guess. I'll post later on my culinary decision. Next I came upon the scrouge of spring, bane of gardeners everywhere, shame of nurseries who continue to sell it...Chameleon houttuynia. Bad, very bad, berrrrrrry berrrrry bad.

The most infintesimal of root left in the ground will sprout a thousand offspring. In other words, there ain't no gettin' rid of this sucker once you plant it. Agent Orange won't kill it either. (Don't ask, I won't tell who my contact is at the DoD.) Oh, and the smell? Think of cilantro on steroids. That alone seals the deal for me...hate cilantro.

So why is it in my garden you may well ask. Well, go ahead, ask! BECAUSE I'M AN IDIOT IS WHY! There, you happy? Back in my baby gardening days, when I knew C&#P about anything, I was beguiled by a poetic description of this "carefree groundcover with spring flowers like strawberry plant blooms, pretty color and easy care." Huh! This is the kudzu vine of the north.

Still grumbling, I headed back inside and was stopped dead in my tracks by this....

Each of those flowers is almost six inches across. It is clematis Dawn and she is blooming about a month ahead of schedule. A freakish hot weather spell a couple of weeks ago got the ball rolling early this year. I keep trying to convince her to go UP on the arbor over Brent's door, but she prefers smothering my prize Japanese cut leaf maple.

What I am most pleased about is how the Lolly garden bed is shaping up. (I name some of my garden beds for special people in my life.) I completely revamped the bed last year...started from scratch with a design of my own. I think it is going to work out! Yeah!

Allium 'Lucy Ball' is blooming; nepeta 'Six Hills Giant' offers softness underneath. Tucked in among that are peonies and Blushing Knock Out roses. Way at the back are oriental lilies. Later there will be catmint nepetoides, smaller alliums and queen anne's lace. The obelisk will support a couple of clematis and a climbing rose a bit later in the season.

A Sweet Girl

On the left is my "goddaughter" Abby. Just as her "mom" Donna is Remy's "godmother. Abby fell ill two weeks ago and did not recover despite the best efforts of her veternarians at Cornell U. She will missed deeply by us and her family.

Shut-up-itis

There is a popular cable show where the hosts have a special expression when something amazing, usually good, happens…they look at each other and one of them says, "Shut UP!"

My dad used to say in his succinct way, "If you have nothing to say…shut up."

My mother phrased it as "If you have nothing to add to the conversation…shut up." Or if we were in polite society, she would say it to me in French. I know it was French because when I repeated it to my high school French teacher, I got detention for a month.

Mom also had "The Look" that said shut up in great, big CAPITAL LETTERS, italicized, bold, underlined.

My brother would roll his eyes and say SHUT UP Pea Brain. (His favorite pet name for me.)

My early years were steeped in mastering the art of shut up. So you can believe me when I say I am very, very good at it.

Usually.

Most of the time. Really.


OK, there was that one little, tiny incident at a business conference where I provided some audience participation to a strictly rhetorical question. Even though the audience was appreciative, Chris's boss was not amused by my contribution. But the speaker, I think he was chairman of some big Swiss bank, kissed me on both cheeks when we met later that evening.


OK, so I have lapses. But I am not entirely without other social aids. Oh, no. I have the Voice Inside My Head. It's the Immodium to my diarrhea of the mouth disease, if you will.

Allow me to illustrate. I will be about to say something monumentally stupid when...

ViMH: "Shut up Barbara"

"Why? I have something *** to say [ *** amusing, clever, poignant - you fill in the blank]."

ViMH: "It's not ***. Just shut up."

By now I am practically twitching in the effort to open my mouth. "But it's really, really ***," I argue.

ViMH: "No, it's not. Trust me."

"Puleeeeeze!" I whine.

ViMH: "NO! Shut UP Barbara!"

And on it goes until the ViMH wins. Usually wins...

Unlike the other evening when I said to a complete stranger at a perfectly lovely pool party,

"Oh my God, what happened to you?" looking at what I thought was a large bruise and she replied,

"It's a birthmark."


I prefer white wine with my foot, thank you very much.

A few weeks ago, the contractor working our Maine house emailed pictures of the snow storm. He said the house looked like a frosted cake.




No kidding!

Merry Christmas!

Chris and I were enjoying our Christmas morning coffee in front of the fire when he commented,

"It would really be nice to be doing this in front of the tree."

"Well, go ahead!" I say.

"But I don’t want to go outside. It's too cold." he whined.

I guess I have to blame this exchange on my fit of the Bah Humbugs! I just didn't feel like putting up the tree this year.

Part of the problem comes from the sheer unwieldiness of the 12 foot artificial tree with deluxe light package we purchased several years ago.

"Just join the two sections together and plug in to any standard wall outlet.
So easy a child could do it!" the box claimed.

Well, I'm here to tell you it's like wrestling with a sea monster. A creature with long prickly fingers that can hook the glasses off your face, poke sensitive spots - VERY sensitive spots - and consume a third of the floor area in the living room.

At one point, attempting to adjust the base so the tree wasn't leaning so precariously over to one side, Chris belly crawled under the lower branches and completely disappeared. Eventually the tree was standing straight, but next time I'm going to tie a rope on him to make sure I get him back.

Add to that, Chris needs a body harness and winch to place the angel on the top of the tree. It's an effort on a par with Mary Martin flying across the stage as Peter Pan, only without the green tights. A ladder does not work because even though we place it as close as possible to the base of the tree, you're 20 feet from the top branch once at the top of the ladder. And no matter how c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y he places the angel, she flops to one side like a drunken wench who's been at the spiked eggnog for too long.

Coupling the lights between sections is a Gordian knot with the added bonus of threatening to electrocute one of us. Two seconds after we unpacked the box the first time, the little color coded sticky things for matching which socket goes to which plug all fell off. So we grunt and huff as we reach into the bowels of the branches, I holding a socket, he holding a plug, trying to meet up, as it were, so to speak. "...little more left - no, no, YOUR left! Ow! Sweet mother of God, I think I've lost an eye! ABORT, ABORT, ABORT!"

All this before we even unpack the first ornament.

So, no tree this year. Deal with it. But I did scatter poinsettias all around and that brightened things up considerably.


Some of the family and friends joined us Christmas evening for dinner. We started by the fire in the living room with pate and camembert cheese topped with Cranberry Drizzle. I made prime rib this year - two roasts in fact since the end cut is so popular. That worked out well. Amy's cheesy potatoes was the perfect partner for the roast. Homemade ice cream, Pear Tarte Tatin and Nantucket Cranberry Cake finished up menu.

It was a great Christmas!



Cranberry Drizzle



Combine 1/2 cup balsamic vinegar and 3 cups cranberry juice in a saucepan. Bring to boiling; reduce heat. simmer, uncovered, for 45 minutes until tmixture is reduced to 1 1/3 cupes.



In a bowl toss together 1/2 cup cranberries and 2 tablespoons sugar; add to juice mixture.

simmer 5 minutes more or until cranberries begin to pop. Remove from heat. Cool.



Refrigerate up to 2 weeks.

Winter Flavors

When we went to the races way back last October, I was asked to bring a dish along. Since I had some pears on my counter,

that got me thinking about a recipe for roasted pears I had recently seen that seemed interesting. Well, of course, I could not remember where I had seen idea, so I cast about on my favorite food internet sites for inspiration. Several hours later and now so ravenously hungry I was wondering if I could fool myself into thinking the cat food was really expensive pate - I mean, a little parsley sprinkled on the top and some ritz crackers...mmmmmm...who could resist? Thinking better of THAT plan, I headed to the kitchen, clutching several pages of recipes for roasted pears.



Eventually I ended up with the salad pictured above - roasted pears, pancetta and toasted walnuts with blue cheese over arugula dressed with lemon vinaigrette. Well received and versatile as either a salad or addition to a beef flank sandwich. I also want to work on a roasted pear chutney, which I think would be fabulous with pork, but that is for another day.

Roasted Pear Salad with Pancetta and Blue Cheese

serves 6

3 bosc pears, halved and cored, sliced into wedges (4 or 5 per half)
2 T. extra virgin olive oil
1 t. kosher salt
fresh ground black pepper (to taste)
12 slices of pancetta
2 to 3 ounces blue cheese (I used bleu d'auvergne)
1/2 cup walnuts
arugula

Pre-heat oven to 375

Spread the pancetta slices on a sheet pan and bake in oven until crispy. Watch as slices can go from done to burned in a second. Better to take out a little early.

Toss the pear slices with the evoo, salt and pepper. Spread on a sheet pan. Roast in oven for 15 to 20 minutes, just until edges are starting to caramelize.

Place the walnuts in a dry saute pan (do not use non-stick) just large enough to hold in one layer. Toast over medium high heat, tossing frequently, for 3 to 5 minutes.

Dress the arugula with Lemon Vinaigrette (recipe below). Arrange pancetta on top, then pears, blue cheese and walnuts.

Everything can be prepared ahead of time and assembled just before serving.


Lemon Vinaigrette

1 garlic clove

big pinch kosher salt

freshly ground black pepper

1 T. dijon mustard (plain or grainy)

zest from 1/2 of a lemon

2 T. fresh lemon juice (never bottled!)

4 T. evoo

Shred the garlic on the tines of a dinner fork in the bottom of a mixing bowl. Add the salt, pepper, mustard, zest and lemon juice and stir to combine. Whisk in the evoo until dressing is emulsified.

You can also place all the ingredients in a lidded container and shake hard to combine.

Taste dressing and adjust seasoning, adding more evoo if you prefer.

A Day at the Races

I have lived in New Jersey for much of my life, but I had never attended the steeplechase races at Far Hills until this year. This annual event is well known in the NYC area and was a favorite of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. Remember the pictures of Carolyn on her pony Macaroni? If you click here, you will find an article in the NJ Star Ledger (don't miss the comments…jeez, get a grip people). I even got a picture of the horse head ice sculpture mentioned in the article…talk about rubbing elbows with the “greats.”

If you ask me, this ice sculpture is a bit more interesting…it’s a “Shots Luge” You stick you mouth at the bottom of one of the trenches and they put a shot of vodka or tequila down the trench. Are we a great country, or what?!!

At the same spot, a display of pumpkin art caught our attention. Here are couple of my favs…

(No pumpkins were harmed by the making of these models…or should I say “hack jobs?”)

Decorations were rampant - er, I mean, there were many, many lovely, tasteful displays of gracious magnitudeness. We, on the other hand, preferred a more simple approach... Here I give you Mary Pat with our tail gate decoration...Tail...Gate....get it?

To say a bit of drinking goes on would be an understatement. One tailgater had five - count ‘em - five kegs of beer. Of course, we did our share…not saying we didn’t, but five kegs???? Here’s a victory pic of Mary Pat after she accidentally fired the cork from the champagne bottle - missing Chris and Michael by a hair - for a direct hit on a race goer strolling past our site. Thank goodness the woman’s down vest averted a bloody, bone crushing injury. "Oops, sorry…my bad - are you all right, dee-ah?"

I have only recently met Mary Pat, but so far she was two for two on the day. I am sure she and I are going to become verrrrry close friends. She is definitely my kind of gal!

Fox seem to be a favorite decoration…

All in all, it was a beautiful October day spent with good friends, lots of food and fine wine. Can’t ask for more!

L to R Christine and Doug, Chris, Michael, Mary Pat, Steve, Katy and Lisa (Ignor the fornicating fox on the left in the picture - they got into the sherry.)

August Happenings...

Just kidding...I know it's October!

Actually August was a blur of working on the cottage, as was September and a bit of this month. Just to give you an idea of all we have accomplished, I offer a few before and after pics below.

We also took care of the wet basement problem by installing a French drain along the back of the house. It was quite the project, but we think we have finally fixed the problem.

The discovery of three springs along the back wall of the house explained a lot of it. Even more water ran into the trench before the excavator dug the outlet trench. The outlet pipe now runs with a constant stream of water 24/7; most of which was in the basement before.

Chris finally dragged me home on the 9th. The fall colors were just getting to their peak, but much needs attention here at home.

Old living room...

Ta daaaa! Not too shabby for mostly garage sale finds, bargain bin buys and a bit of home DIY projects (more on those later).

The old driveway and garage entrance...

New screen door on garage, new drive and in the background, fence and garden shed through the arbor.

We added a deck to the front to replace the old sidewalk and patio.

Maine Musings

We’ve been here three weeks and it has been a blur of work. Luckily, the weather has been a little off, so we are not feeling too abused, i.e., having to work inside the house when the gulls are all calling us to come out and play. But today is a picture perfect - 72 and a soft breeze off the ocean. It’s heaven!!

A few numbers for your amusement:

22 trips to Home Depot, mostly for paint
18 trips to Lowes
12 trips to the grocery store, liquor store, drug store (lots of Advil!)
10 trips to Owls Head Market for take out lunch
8 to the post office for arriving packages and boxes
6 to Walmart
4 trips to the transfer station for recycling and garbage - no home pick up here.
3 Amy’s of Cushing, Maine pies down the hatch
2 trips to the town dump We have a town dump! That is soooooo 1950‘s!
1 set of houseguests
0 lobster dinners - how can this be???? Too exhausted to go out!

Everything is in a state of Almost Done. The living room, one bedroom and the bathroom are almost there; the two other bedrooms are not started yet. I will get one done by Tuesday night for the next house guest - I hope! We chip away at it every day and we would not be this far if not for Craig and Melitta and Helen and Howard. Good friends who jumped in to paint, spackle, polish, clean, line shelves, advise, comfort, feed us (and help us drink) and generally make our lives so much easier. The house would be no where near this ready without their generous and willing help. We are blessed!

And if that was not enough, Craig added a beautiful stone chimney cap for us…getting rid of an ugly metal vent. We have amazing friends.




I have just spent an hour watching a young osprey hunt for his fish supper. Hanging over the narrow channel between our end of the land and Ash Island, he made several dive bombs into the water to come up empty. Around he would circle, ruffling his feathers in flight to fling off the water, to hover above the waves, watching, watching…

A small sign for Organic Vegetables caught my eye yesterday on my way home from some errand or another. I turned down the gravel lane and around the first curve found a beautiful white Maine farm house with a small stand by the road. The owner/gardener came out and we started chatting. I am very curious about gardening here in Maine…when can I plant, what survives the winter well and what doesn’t, where does she find compost, mulch, etc. Lovely, willowy Catherine shared all her secrets and I came home with beautiful salad greens, haricot vert beans, basil, gorgeous beets and the last jar of her 3 Red Berries Jam. She is so pleased with it, she is saving the rest of her supply for Christmas gifts. Yes, it really is that good…and I wish I was a friend!

The full moon was breathtaking the other night. A perfect naval orange glowing in the night sky.

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