Tag Archives: mount desert island

Gal, Interrupted.

I’ve been away awhile. Well, I’ve actually been right here all along, but just this morning I’ve been trying to figure out how to explain to you the analogy between life and running a restaurant. How they are so frighteningly similar, that I wonder why I ever bothered with a restaurant at all, when I already had a life.

Every day is defined by who walks through the door, both in and out. The people who run the place and the people who are just passing through looking for a little comfort, and a little sustenance. Someone quits and there’s a scramble to make up for the lost set of hands, and sometimes something you need doesn’t show up, but something else arrives in it’s place, and you make do with what you have because that’s the best you can do on short notice. Sometimes it’s a perfect night, and sometimes the morning comes way too early. You put your whole heart into it. And then something important breaks and you have to let it all go until you can figure out what it’s going to take to fix it. You stand up, you show up, and you go to your station and begin again every day, because there are expectations to be met and things that need doing.

You just do.
And that is where I have been.
I couldn’t have guessed that I would have had the life or the experiences that I’ve had in my short 36 years, and I couldn’t have seen the life I would be living these last few months for all the tea in China. But it happens, life. And restaurant or not, there’s always someone coming, or going. And there’s always something to do. And plenty to write about.

To begin at the beginning would be a story far too long for a blog post, but to begin at the end, well that’s something I can wrap my head around, because it’s as fresh as today’s bread, and all the stuff between then and now has caused me to take a lot of notes. So here’s what happened next…

I moved and it started to rain. It rained so much that Summer barely had a chance to get here before the Fall. And in the torrents, the love of my life left for greener grass. Even coated in fresh paint, my new kitchen was too dark and depressing to feel good in. I ate by myself, and I cursed the rain. And then I decided that there was too much to be missed, rain be damned, and I ventured out into my new food world and instead of cooking, I met the people who cook. I visited restaurants and started asking questions. I was asked to be a judge for the IMG_3741State BBQ competition, and in so doing, met a wonderful group of very accomplished chefs and restaurant owners who opened more doors. (Not to mention I learned that oysters and BBQ sauce don’t mix) I became the co-host of a radio show about food with a gal I had imagined would be a soul mate if only I could meet her. I ate fried olives and fluke ceviche with yuzu ver jus, pickled fresno chili, and sea beans and wondered where they had been all my life. Kitchens were bustling in my presence and tables were filling up. And Gal Foodie was getting her gazpacho back.

And then a phone rang with the horror – a child had been killed in a terrible car accident, and my world screeched sideways all the way back to my beloved Mount Desert Island. The only thing I knew how to do to make it all better was to cook. And cook, and cook. Until everyone at least had a decent meal in their stomachs even if their hearts were bleeding out of their chests. It was that same child that I had fed in my old kitchen for so many years whom I had already said goodbye to a few months earlier. Goodbye to my island, the life I’d built, my sweetest love – No – this eclipsed any farewell I’d ever known. I kissed the tops of their heads and fed their souls but the child was gone, the kitchen was gone. No amount of food could fill that hole. With all the heartache-encrusted strength I could muster, I headed once again from the old to the new, determined to find the recipe for moving on.

I made cheese for the challenge of it. I spent time on the Eastern Shore of Maryland and made crab cakes with the real thing and drank cheap beer at a place called Lucky’s Last Chance. A cookbook idea led to fairgrounds across the Northeast, where I consumed foods with names like the Craz-E-Burger. Despite the implied calorie count (who was counting?) IMG_4200there was a story there and so I grabbed for extra napkins and I kept eating. As a judge at the local chili festival, I met even more people who cooked, and people who published magazines about it. I learned how to make bean hole baked beans for 1,000 people, and roast an ox on a spit. I was recognized in public. And I finally started cooking in my new kitchen.

There is no recipe for this. There is no one way it can go. Sometimes you get lucky. You keep trying new things, testing new ingredients and hoping it turns out OK. And you don’t always get to decide who stays and who goes.  You can only trust yourself to keep showing up and doing what needs to be done –  the rest is left to Chance.

Life is so short,

~ Gal Foodie

Brownies for Change

Things are changing in the Gal Foodie kitchen. And actually, the kitchen is literally what is changing. The whole idea of change is bred into us Mainer’s as something to be avoided. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” as they say. Well, things here are “broke” and I’m about to fix it. And wow, has it gotten a little stressful around here.

Us islanders thrive on rumors, and this one is true. We’re moving. It is bittersweet to leave Mount Desert Island, and a lot of tears have already been shed for the lifestyle, place and people I’m about to give up. It has been a challenge living here – a hard life, surrounded by a beauty that can’t be denied. It’s a place that captures your heart… if you can survive the winter, of course.

There’s so much to look forward to where we’re going. Farmer’s Markets, and restaurants, and specialty food shops, fishmongers and grocery stores (!!). Family and friends and the familiarity of a hometown. And at the very least,  a burger and a beer within a reasonable distance! (That’s not even an option here 9 months out of the year!). Ben and I are excited about the change, and overwhelmed by the task of making it happen. So, to help relieve the anxiety, I looked no further this week than to the comfort of a food that hasn’t changed in my life in 36 years. Nana’s Brownies.

brownies

My mother is famous for knowing exactly when a giant pan of these needs to be made. We kids always called it “brownie brainwaves.” We would come home from some crazy adventure, and mom would have the brownies already done and cooling on the counter. How did she know?  I’m pretty sure my Nana had the same talent, and I’m pretty sure this recipe was created to ease the heart and soul in times of change. What better way to take your mind off the moment than falling head over heels into a pan of warm brownies?

Nana’s Brownies
1 1/4 cups Shortening, Melted
12 tbsp Cocoa
1 1/2 cups Flour
1 tsp Baking Powder
3/4 tsp Salt
4 Eggs
2 cups Sugar
2 tsp Vanilla
1 cup chopped walnuts or semi-sweet chocolate chips

1. Melt shortening and add the cocoa mix (I do this right in a glass mixing bowl in the microwave for 30 seconds)

2. In a separate bowl, beat eggs and add sugar and vanilla. Beat until smooth.

3. Add egg mixture to cocoa mixture

4. Add dry ingredients and stir until smooth, adding walnuts or chocolate chips (or both!)

5.  Grease a 9×13 pan and bake at 350 for about 35 minutes. Do not over bake.

6. Sit down, relax, enjoy the moment as you bite into the warm,  gooey yummy that is… Nana’s Brownies.

As my Nana said to my mother, and my mother to me, “This too, shall pass.” And so it will, even if I have to bake brownies every day until I’m in my new kitchen, starting my new life on the mainland.

Pass the milk and the packing tape, please.
~ Gal Foodie

Banana Bread from Far and Away

Can you find us?

Can you find us?

My friend Darcy and I have known each other since we were 9 years old. We met every summer for a week of camp on Lake Cobbosseecontee, in West Gardiner, ME. All the way through our senior year in high school we looked forward to that week of late night giggles, days of swimming and singing, and building friendships that grew stronger as we grew older.

Eventually we moved away, formed new lives and new friendships. When I made the move from Seattle back to Mount Desert Island in 2005, where Darcy grew up, I wasn’t sure if she was still here, or if any of my friends were still here. It had been nearly 15 years since I last saw most of my camp friends. As I sat reading the local paper one morning, I came across an article about an artist on the island named Darcy Stillman. She made mirrors out of the island’s rocks and shells. Could it be her? An artist? There was an email address at the end of the article, and sure enough, a reply came back… “Yes! It’s me!! Let’s go swimming!”

Ali & Darcy aboard the O'Day Tempest Curlew

Ali & Darcy aboard the O'Day Tempest Curlew

How does this have anything to do with food, Gal Foodie? Well, it has a lot to do with food. As our friendship rekindled, so did the opportunity to share our talents as adults with each other. Darcy had become a teacher at the local high school, and an avid baker and artist. She was forever delivering loaves of bread, homemade granola and the like to my doorstep. When I had surgery, she showed up in her pajamas early my first morning home alone and stayed with me, nursing me back to health with her homemade chicken soup, breads, and smoothies. When she bought a motor boat that summer to island hop for her art-rock-hunting endeavors, I got a very excited call to meet her on the upper town dock with sandwiches for an island picnic. And when I finally bought my own sailboat, it was Darcy who brought lunch for the inaugural sail. We spent many an afternoon cruising the harbors and inlets of Mount Desert Island – a treat for anyone who loves this place as much as we do.

Darcy filled out an application for the Peace Corps and was accepted. She was headed to South Africa for 2 years. I received a frantic call her last day on the island. She was in panic mode. I had lived in Ecuador and traveled all over the world, and remembered well this feeling of sheer anxiety. I packed up breakfast and proceeded to pack up Darcy. As we sorted clothes, I recounted the story of the The Poisonwood Bible
, one of my favorite books – reminding her that no matter what you bring, it’s going to be the wrong thing so get over it quick, and be prepared to adapt. I couldn’t think of a better candidate for this kind of experience. I cried all the way home that day. I was really going to miss my friend. And I was scared for her too. However, Darcy can jump into anything with the gusto and enthusiasm of a pack of church ladies preparing for a Sunday supper. She was going to move mountains over there no matter what she did.

Aletuke, South AfricaThanks to the internet, she and I chat daily via Facebook IM. I am always prying her for info on what she is eating, cooking, seeing and doing. The customs and traditions there are so rich, and like our own, often revolve around the camaraderie of cooking together. She has fully immersed herself in it, and in true Darcy form, is bringing her own traditions to her village as a way to bridge the cultural divide and make new friends. When I asked her to send me a recipe from her village of Aletuke, she sent me way more than that. This recipe is Darcy in all her glory – baking, teaching and sharing.

Over the years, living through many a Maine winter, I have grown to love the joy of baking, especially bread. I could say that one of my signatures as a friend is showing up when least expected with a wonderful loaf of bread. Why bake one when you can bake two and give one away?

Now I’m a Peace Corps volunteer in South Africa. I live in a rural village and continue to fascinate the people around me with my baking. There are no fancy flours or seeds to drop into my bread so I find myself baking a lot of banana bread. Why? Because the ingredients are few, cheap, easy to find and there is never a shortage of old bananas. So I continue to bake an extra loaf and give it away. There is no better feeling then showing up at someones home and handing them a fresh baked loaf of banana bread. Their smile and energy are all the thanks I need.

Now I’m teaching the people I work with how to bake and they are teach the orphans we work with how to bake. But we are teaching them to make two, not one loaf at a time and we decide as a group who to give the extra loaf to. It’s a beautiful process to be a part of.

Far and Away Banana Bread
Makes 2 Loaves

Cream together:
1/3 cup shortening (or margarine, I can’t get shortening here in SA)
2/3 cup sugar (I usually use a 1/2 cup)
Beat In:
2 eggs
Add:
1 3/4 cup flour
2 1/2 tsp baking powder
Mix most of the way then add:
1 1/4 cup mashed banana.

Banana tip:  When you have ripe bananas beyond eating throw them in the freezer. When you have enough, make banana bread.  Bananas from the freezer are juicier.  Drain off most of the extra water and add a little extra flour to thicken batter.  This will make a little extra batter to add to your mini give away loaf.

Grease an 8X4 in. bread pan and a mini loaf pan.  Divide batter appropriately and bake at 350 for 50-60 min. Check the mini loaf after 20-30 min. for it will bake faster.

From childhood to adulthood, life experience teaches us a simple lesson: Make two and share. One is silver and the other is gold.

~Gal Foodie

Darcy Stillman’s Blog of her Peace Corps Adventures can be read at http://darcystillman.blogspot.com/