It's Wintah...in Maine!

As a Native Texan, winters were something I always dreaded.  I wasn't used to the 40-50 degree weather, and I prayed for a snow day at least every time the meteorologist said it was going to drop below 32.  Alas, that didn't happen very often.  Try about once every four years in Houston.  Dallas provided us with more snow/ice days - about once a year right around Valentine's Day.  Texas isn't capable of handling the snow or ice so they just ended up canceling school, and most people got the day off from work.  It's too dangerous to get out there...almost like Californians driving in the rain.

All that seems to be a distant memory these days.  The average temps around here the last few weeks have barely even pushed above freezing.  Getting out there isn't as easy as one might think.  Sure, they plow the roads and salt and sand them, but they can't keep up with a heavy snow storm.  So what is a heavy snow storm then?  Before we left for Christmas there was 4 inches of snow on the ground and that was a "dusting."  To be honest, they all seem like heavy snow storms to me, and we should all stay home from work instead of going out on the roads.  The snow looks so much prettier when you're at home and not at work.

To be fair, this season has been much worse than winters Maine has experienced in the past few years.  I'm not sure of the total inches we've had so far, but I think it's already surpassed the average for the whole season.  Everyone keeps saying, "Just wait til February" meaning that it will only get worse.  Well I'll tell you what.  You can take your February and keep it because I want no part of it!  I'm sick of snow.  I'm sick of having to bundle up when I go outside.  I'm sick of having to struggle to get up our hill of a driveway just to get in the garage.  I'm sick of having sand and snow stuck to shoes, and consequently, in the house.

BUT!!!  It sure does beat the heat.

The path from the back porch to the driveway...see the angle of the car?  I wasn't lying about the hill!

Our street

The neighborhood

The park that had tulips last spring (Blog: April Showers Have Brought May Flowers)

Check out how tall that snow bank is...and how buried the Stop sign is

The Whole Enchilarda

I've already discussed in a blog from last year how Maine isn't going to be garnering any spots on the "spiciest places to eat tour" anytime soon.  And one of the reasons is because the Mexican food up here is virtually non-existant.  Oh sure, Thai and Indian food have the corner on spice market, but there's something to be said about a really good salsa that kind of sets your mouth on fire and dares you to come back for more.

I think Spike and I have tried about three "Mexican" (and I use the term very loosely) restaurants around town, and only one of them deserves going back again and again - El Rayo.  It's in an old gas station with more outdoor seating than is available than inside.  So you can understand why this place would be packed in the summer.  We've been quite a bit since we've moved to Portland, and it hits that spot even if it's not always super spicy.  Trying something new is always in order when we go and we're not usually disappointed.  I've tried the chilequilles, the Mexico City corn on the cob (exceptionally good), tacos, quesadillas, rice and bean bowls...the list goes on.  EXCEPT!!! they have no enchiladas on the menu, which is disappointing, but I guess it's not that kind of restaurant.   

But the whole reason I'm here pouring out my thoughts is because today at work they were serving "Enchilardas" for lunch.  That's right, enchiladas with an R.  Of course, it's just the woman behind the sneeze glass who writes the day's offerings on the chalk board and doesn't know how to spell the word.  I feel that's what we're working with here in New England: Restaurants that don't serve enchiladas and people that can't spell it.


That's why I just have to accept that the best Mexican food is in El Paso and I can only have it about once a year when we see Spike's family.   

Festive Sweater Fest 2010

What do you get when you gather a group of people who have crazy aunts and grandmas with "beautiful" sweaters that they loaned/gave you to go to a Christmas party?

Festive Sweater Fest, that's what.

Yes, there are ugly sweater parties popping up all over the country during this season, and we decided to jump on the bandwagon too.  These kind of parties have given us a new way to celebrate Christmas without having to spend a lot of money.  If you can dig through your or your relatives' closets to find these gems, you could be in for a treat.  Prizes are often offered, and we weren't going to let our guests down.  Trader Joe's, a type of Whole Foods specialty food store for those of you who aren't in the know, just opened here in town about a month ago.  People are nuts over this place so we decided that a $10 gift card to Trader Joe's was in order...worth way more than most of the sweaters.  Can you guess who won?

Joanna is in a winter wonderland and Amber is the Cat Lady

Michelle was into bunnies, Lauren looked lovely in snowflakes, and Brad's too short teddy bear sweater was perfect. 

My sweater was intricately crocheted and Spike pulled off Liz Claiborne quite well if I do say so myself!

Warren pinned a stocking on and Sabrina had bears as part of her ensemble.

Tyler, Mark, and Spike laughing about how ridiculous they look...or maybe something else.
Tyler's sweater had a walrus and polar bear among others and Mark was decked out in moose and trees.

Amber with her straight-laced man Mike in a gingerbread and plaid get-up.  The glasses are totally classic!

Run for Your Life...or Warmth

That's me in the gray vest!

Thanksgiving Day I ran my first race.  Some friends from work convinced me to run with them, and being easily persuaded I agreed.  I've been running more since late summer and was ready to put all the days of training at Back Cove to the test.  This was the Portland Thanksgiving Day 4 Miler.  Granted, I'd never run non-stop for 4 miles before and I knew I wouldn't be able to do it this day, but I still thought it would be fun.

My friends and I met up at one of their apartments to stretch and warm up.  We had bananas (lots of potassium for muscles) and cranberry bread for sustenance to carry us through the race.  I had one banana and half a slice of the bread.  There is a reason I'm telling you this...keep reading.  We walked down to the start line with 2,000 of our closest friends.  And some of these people were a little too hardcore for me.  I saw quite a few running in their shorts and t-shirts, which is fine for a spring day run, but it was 31 degrees outside!  Really though, once the race began my attire was perfect.  The most important thing to me was to keep my core and ears warm.  The legs and arms were going to be moving enough that I didn't need extra layers.

About 3 times I had to stop running to regain energy that was zapped on those hills, and there were plenty of them.  Luckily, the planner of the race had the decency to make the final stretch downhill.  My friend Elizabeth and I began to pick up the pace to finish strong.  We were nearly sprinting when we crossed the finish line and I almost got sick.  I just kept thinking, "Please, please don't let me throw up in front of all these people!!"  Luckily I was able to keep my composure, but I guess the lesson was to only eat half a banana in the future!

I love that cities all across the country have a Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving morning.  It makes eating all that food easier to justify.  And our Thanksgiving had lobster.  Yeah, I'll go ahead and rub it in.  It was sooooooo good.  How else are you supposed to celebrate the holiday in Maine?

All Set?

There are a few things that always tend to stick out in my mind when I think about sayings people have in the Northeast.  "All set" is definitely at the top of the list as it's the catchall for anyone in the service industry whether it's the waitress at dinner or the cashier at the department store.  The Texas equivalent to this would be "I'm good," which we'll get to shortly.

The phrase seemed to seep its way into my brain after Spike and I had been out to dinner several times and the waiters and waitresses would ask if we were ready to order.  But the thing is they didn't say, "Are you all set to order?"  It was just, "All set?" and we used our context clues to determine that we were expected to give them our order.  When the food would come it was, "All set?" again.  This time it would mean, "Do you have everything you need?"  And so it goes when the plates were ready to be taken away and when the check was to be paid.  It was always "All set?"  On the flip side, if the the waiter actually asks if I am still working on my plate, I could say, "I'm all set" meaning "You can take it."  I could also tell them I'm all set if they inquired about anything else I might need.  The whole thing didn't strike me from the very beginning because "all set" is phrase that everyone has used.  It only caught me when everyone everywhere was saying it.  When I brought it up to Spike, he thought for a second and agreed.  It's like we can't escape it.  Even that movie "The Town," which takes place in Boston uses the phrase a few times...now that's authenticity for you.

As I said earlier, the phrase "You good?" or "I'm good" is used primarily in the South for whatever reason.  I have used it a few times here in Maine out of habit, and sometimes it's backfired on me miserably.  I was at Whole Foods not too long ago when I bought one item.  The cashier asked if I wanted a bag for it and I said, "I'm good" meaning "No, thanks."  A few seconds passed when he finally asked, "I'm sorry, did you say 'I'm good' or 'I would'?"  If I'd said I was all set, none of that would have happened.  Now I go places and use "all set" at any point to see if I'm using it correctly.  Most of the time I fit right in.

How about from now on, we stop with the idioms and use a simple "yes" or "no, thank you" to get through our daily lives?  Or at least ask a question that is a little more specific?  It seems like it would make life a little easier for everyone, but then again how would you know if you were in the Northeast or the South?

Whoopie Pie? More Like Oops Pie.

A Whoopie Pie is a sweet treat found here in Maine and throughout the eastern US.  It's essentially a chocolate cake sandwich - two small cakes with gritty sugary icing in the middle.  Isn't that just an Oreo Cakester, you ask?  Yes, but Oreo stole the idea from the Whoopie Pie.  When the Cakesters first came out, I bought a box of them because I thought it would be something a little different.  Two of them come in a package, and if you eat more than one you probably have a sweet tooth that's not easily satiated.  Those things could give you a cavity just by looking at them.  

Today I tried my hand at making this northern staple.  I made red velvet Whoopie Pies with cream cheese frosting in the middle.  None of my cookbooks had a red velvet cake recipe so I was left to fend for myself.  I understand that it's just chocolate cake with red dye in it, but I didn't know if there was something different that I had to do since you drop the batter on a baking sheet like a cookie.  As it turns out, not really.

After a miserable first run, I found the groove and baked to my heart's content.  I even had enough batter to make a few cupcakes.    And then I tried them.  They weren't chocolatey enough for me and something seemed kind of "off."  They were pretty flat, not the puffy cake that you might imagine.  What I need to do next time is get a recipe for Whoopie Pies that comes from a place around Portland.  Because apparently this city boasts the best one in the country - from Two Fat Cats Bakery.  They've set the standard and I'm working my way up to it.

The Blueberry Post

Before I ever dreamt about the day I'd move to Maine, I made a blueberry pie back in Texas. It was the first pie I'd ever made, and one of those things I wanted to prove to myself that I could do. Like most things that I do in the kitchen, it took me a really long time from start to finish to get this thing on the table. I made the dough for the crust, refrigerated it, rolled it out, prepared the filling, let it set...you get the idea. I'm sure this thing took me a good 6 hours from start to finish. It was exhausting, but was incredibly rewarding. Spike still goes on about that first blueberry pie, which is pictured below.

Last week was Spike's 30th birthday. And, you guessed it, he wanted a blueberry pie. Of course, Maine is synonymous with blueberries so it only seemed fitting. Since the fruit is only in season during the summer months, I had to go to the frozen section or pay $3.69 for a HALF pint. Don't get me wrong, I love my husband, but this recipe calls for 6 cups of blueberries! Those better be the best darn tasting blueberries that ever came in contact with my lips. The frozen blueberries were a better deal and from Maine.

The thing about Maine blueberries is that they actually quite small compared with the ones we're all used to (see above). I'd say they're about the size of a pea, sometimes bigger. We can't taste a difference. And the advantage of using a smaller berry is that the pie is jammed full of these things...more berries means a better dessert, right? It's a win/win situation! These days, I take help from the Pillsbury refrigerated pie crusts (mine are still better) and it makes for a pretty decent pie, if I do say so myself. The end result? Spike loved it and that's all that matters!