4th of July Weekend Part II: Portland

I have a new favorite bookstore: Rabelais! Not just cookbooks, but food books. And how have I never heard of the eponymous Rabelais (novel-inventer, Swift-influencer, tosser-off of deathbed witticism)? The owners are husband-and-wife Brooklyners who seem to have set up shop partly so they could defy those who admire photos of elaborate dishes but exclaim "No one cooks like that at home!"

Portland has become a destination foodie city in the past few years and even reminds me a little of Brooklyn with its passion for sustainable but fancy ingredients and a casual vibe. Duckfat fits this description.

The main attraction is french fries fried in... duck fat. We forwent the Poutine, which is like a parfait with layers of fries, cheese curd and duck gravy, and tried a few of the sauces: truffle ketchup (Heinz + truffle oil!), Thai chili mayo and my favorite, horseradish mayo.

However, I was equally ecstatic to see a yummy version of my favorite kind of salad: greens + cheese (ricotta) + fruit (strawberries) + texture (fennel). Fresh, bright and the perfect antidote to bad-for-you, ducky wonderfulness.

I couldn't resist the sweet potato curry soup, which I thought might be too wintry but was the perfect spicy counterpoint.

Now that I'm back I'll have to start cooking from some of the books J bought. Maybe I'll finally try a souffle....

4th of July Weekend Part I: Waterford

The 4th of July in my hometown:

7:30 am. Town breakfast at the Wilkins House followed by rummage sale in the basement and book sale at the library. J found a funny little card game called Filch that no one knows how to play.


11 am. Parade through the Village Green (followed by bonus parade when everyone has to turn around and come back because there is only one road).

2 pm. Wait for the rain to stop so we can grill burgers. Eat with potato salad, beer, and homemade ice cream. Play lots of cards. Nap.


Sunday: Remember how to drive. Stop for as many lobster rolls as possible. Debate worthiness of lobster premixed with mayonnaise vs. anadulterated lobster meat.


I no longer get to ride in the fire truck, family members are farther flung, and it is difficult for me to reconcile the relaxed mood of family downtime with the get-up-and-go that is J's and my usual vacation mode. But the air and the trees and the cards (even the rain, which I vocally oppose but secretly love) are still restorative.