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!

Leaf Peeper!!

Spike took these pictures of our street

Before the onset of Fall began, I told my co-workers how excited I was to watch the changing of the leaves. The pictures I'd seen and the reports I'd heard from everyone who'd been to the northeast during this season were nothing but glowing. Colors so vibrant and air so crisp that it just had to be amazing. Texas doesn't get that much changing of leaves because of the circumstances of where it's located geographically and the fact that the weather doesn't lend itself to it too well. Botany lesson for today: In order for the leaves to change color, there has to be the perfect ratio of daylight to night and the temperature has to fall between in very specific spots for the right amount of time. Maine's got it - Texas doesn't. It's just a fact.

Back when Spike and I picked apples in Alfred, the leaves were just beginning to change colors. These days they're at their peak, and the slightest rain or wind can leave them all crushed in the middle of the street looking like trash. If you've never made it to New England in the Fall, consider this your invitation. From the end of September all the way until the 3rd week in October, there's bound to be some good leaf peeping.

Leaf peeping? You read it right. Back when I told my co-workers how I couldn't wait to see the changing of the leaves, they said with disdain, "Oh, you're one of those...Leaf Peepers." I had to explain to them that I'd never seen Fall the way New England does it. I'm not sure how someone could come up here and not be fascinated by the brilliant reds, oranges, yellows, and corals that abound on the trees. I'd hate to get to the point when Fall holds nothing special anymore. These Mainers don't know how good they have it! And Texans, you don't know what you're missing!

The Bridges of Cumberland County

Yesterday I went to a wedding shower for a co-worker at the home of someone else at work. This was that stereotypical kind of Sunday drive where you just want to take your time looking at all the fall foliage and not rush to get to the destination. The directions were simple to get out there...just keep driving until you see the sign for "Covered Bridge Road." Take a left and drive down the winding road in the shade of the all the changing trees (the second part of that wasn't in the directions). You'll get to the covered bridge, cross it, and a mile from that is the house. Let me back up - the covered bridge. I don't think that Texas has any covered bridges. I'm only saying that because I've never been over a covered bridge. Please prove me wrong so I can go across it someday when I'm back in the Lone Star State.

This bridge was old or at least it looked that way. There was a 3 ton weight limit and it was only one lane so it could prove tricky if you came across someone coming toward you. I had to get out and take a few pictures. This was just too perfect. The water under the bridge was so completely still and some of the leaves on the trees had started to change in the background. I almost don't believe that I was there. But the pictures prove it, and it was amazing.

More Apple Picking in Alfred

Johnny Appleseed Ain't Got Nothin' on Me

Back in Texas, my family used to go to Fredericksburg for two reasons: to see my grandparents and to pick peaches. We'd always go to Marburger Orchard and pick Red Globe or Dixiland, depending on which was ripe. The best part was having my grandma's peach cobbler with a scoop of vanilla ice cream most likely from H-E-B. I can still see the casserole dish being pulled out of the oven with the crust just starting to turn golden and the syrup from the broken-down peaches bubbling up around it. I could never understand the people who bought their peaches at the grocery store because if they'd ever had a Fredericksburg peach, they'd never go back to those tasteless, hard peaches.

Today Spike and I went to pick apples in Alfred, a town southwest of Portland. It was the Shaker Hill Apple Festival with craft booths, a silent auction in a barn, and of course apple treats at the bakery. I've never been apple picking before, but I figured it was pretty much like my days picking peaches. Apples in the orchard were $1/pound so we bought as many as we thought we could reasonably eat and some extras so I could bake something. The temperature was a chilly 60ish with overcast skies, but the scenery made up for all that. The orchard is up on a hill looking down on an abundance of beautiful trees made even more amazing because the leaves in the area have started changing colors. We left with 5 pounds of apples, but on the way back to the car I had to have one. It was seriously one of the crunchiest, sweetest, juiciest apples I've ever had. I almost feel like today made my circle complete. I was able to go to an orchard and pick seasonal fruit in a setting that rivals the Texas Hill Country. Nothing can replace it, but it almost felt like home.