But I Digress…

Stuart Little

Brooklin, ME, is a tiny town that was  home to E. B. and Katharine White who met at The New Yorker, ultimately moved to Maine and were married for forty-eight years.  Visiting Brooklin, we went to the Friend Memorial Library to see the E. B. White book collection and noted with pleasure that the volumes look used and appreciated.   The Stuart Little book jacket above is the version I adored, as a child. Every time I went to the 79th Street boat pond, I half-expected to see Stuart at the helm of his craft.

After Brooklin, we went to Stonington and then to Deer Isle, accessible by bridge but somehow suspended in another time, maybe the  50s.We drove down the Sunshine Road (no kidding) got out of the car and stumbled onto what looked like a Red Grooms set—large sculptures everywhere, some sitting on a cabin porch.  Then we came to a cottage/coffee shop where we ate wonderful scones accompanied by samples of some of the jams.  The place is so low-key,  it took a while to figure out that one function of the cottage is a “showroom” for the small batch jams, preserves, chutneys and marmalades made under the Nervous Nellie label.

In life, Nellie is delightful Anne Beerits.  The company name and identity were coined twenty-five years ago by Peter, Anne’s partner, who thought Nervous Nellie’s was a better name for a  fledgling jam business than Deer Isle Jams. How right he was! Here’s the web address  for the company  where you can simply browse, order fabulous jam and chutneys, pottery, teas or organic dog biscuits; read Nellie’s blog, sign up for the Nellie newsletter or see some of Peter’s creative sculpture, much of it made from reclaimed materials:  www.nervousnellies.com/

All the products I’ve sampled are first class but my personal fave remains the Hot Tomato Chutney. Simultaneously spicy and sweet, it’s a great accompaniment to any meat, enlivens a sandwich, and becomes a great hors d’oeuvre– top a cracker with cream cheese or cheddar and add a dollop of the chutney.

Nervous Nellie catalogue

Use any of the chutneys  on a meat sandwich instead of mustard or mayonnaise  or enliven mayo with one and thin further with plain yogurt.  Flavor yogurt with Blueberry Chutney and spread on pork tenderloin for the last few minutes of cooking– your mouth and your guests if you share– will thank you.  Visit Nervous Nellie’s (open year ’round but I prefer Maine in the summer) have a snack, go birdwatching,  and enjoy a unique place that produces top-quality food products  with flair and humor.

For a recipe, check out Nellie’s website that lists a bunch of suggestions on using their products.

Basque sign

The official language of the Basque country of northern Spain and nearby France is Euskara, rife with x’s and z’s. (Look at the sign above: the only obvious words are “San Sebastian,” the city.)

In Euskara, what I knew as ‘tapas’ are called pinxtos, pronounced “peenchos” and eating them is one of the national pastimes. Pinxtos can be simple, cold bites like olives and a slice of cheese or more complex hot snacks such as Tortilla Espanola,  an omelet laced with diced potato and chorizo. When you order a drink, it often comes with a simple pinxto on a plate (and one of the itsy-bitsy waxed Spanish napkins that don’t mop up anything.)

‘Tapa’ means ‘lid’ or cover in Spanish. Legend has it that long ago an enterprising barkeep covered a drink to keep off flies, using a piece of ham or bread.  Over time, the custom  evolved into a snack to accompany a drink.  Going ‘tapas hopping’ before the late Spanish dinner or lunch on weekends is very popular. Eating several substantial –you say tapas and I say pinxtos– at eight or nine at night along with ample sherry or wine often killed my need for a real dinner later.

Hondarribia, a former fishing village on Spain’s eastern coast, has a street entirely devoted to bars offering pinxtos. Nibbling along the street from bar to bar,  having a pinxto there, another here was fun. Afterward, we walked up the hill to the parador,  a treat itself as the hotel was originally a tenth century castle.

A few days later we moved on to a parador in easy driving range of both San Sebastian, pinxto heaven, and Bilbao. The Guggenheim museum in Bilbao was between exhibits but the monumental  work by Richard Serra is always on view and the building itself is incredible. So too were the designer pinxtos at the museum’s restaurant.

Guggenheim Museum, Bilbao

The easiest recipe for tapas/pinxtos I can think of is top quality bread, brushed with Spanish olive oil and topped with a slice of  Jamon Iberico.  Despana, a restaurant-cum-grocery store on New York’s Broome Street in Soho, sells terrific jamon as well as Spanish cheeses and other foods.  Many people eating there  are chatting away in Spanish; everyone I asked gave the place high marks.  Call them tapas or pinxtos—when in Spain (or at a real tapas bar elsewhere) just enjoy them.

Jamon Iberico at Despana

Tapas

Downward Facing Dog

The first time I heard the title phrase, visions of condiments danced in my head as though  I’d been offered garnishes for a curry. Not quite. I was a newbie in a yoga class, dazzled by the lithe, twenty-something instructor with rubber joints. (For non-yoga practitioners, a vinyasa is a series of poses starting and ending with a downward facing dog, pictured above. A “good dog” is not a well-behaved Lab, it involves spread fingers and toes, limber hamstrings and steady in- and exhalations. My dog is  not all that good but very game.)

Since the condiment class, I’ve taken yoga classes on beaches, in gyms and spas, in living rooms,  at home and far away.  India, birthplace of yoga, has classes everywhere. In  many temples like the Meenakshi Temple in Madurai,  in the south Indian state of Tamil Nadu, there are impromptu yoga groups scattered about the huge complex.  If the practitioners were aware that people like me watched for a few moments, they didn’t pay the slightest heed.

Meenakshi Temple, Madurai

In the U.S., the public posture of yoga devotees is often includes healthy eating.  If practitioners snarf up Big Macs, they don’t say so nor do their lean bodies.  Lentils are a protein dream, third only to soybeans and hemp seed (anyone ever eaten hemp seed?)

Here’s a recipe for lentils with leeks that I’ve used as a base for salmon  It’s delicious on its own and you can use it any way you please. Namaste.

Lentils with leeks

For mustard-herb butter:

3 Tbls. unsalted butter, softened

1 Tbls grainy mustard (like Dijon)

1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice

1 Tbls each chopped chives and tarragon (if you have them handy, taste is still good if you don’t)

For lentils and leeks:

1 cup French green lentils

4 cups water

2 leeks (white and pale green parts) chopped and well-washed

1 Tbls. unsalted butter

1 Tbls. fresh lemon juice

Bring lentils, water and 3/4 teaspoon salt to a boil in a heavy saucepan, then reduce heat and simmer, uncovered until lentils are just tender, about 20 minutes. Remove from heat and let stand five minutes. Reserve one cup cooking liquid and drain the rest.

Chop leeks, wash and cook in a tablespoon of butter over medium-low heat, stirring a little until softened, 6-8 minutes. Add lentils with the reserved cooking liquid to the leeks and add the 3 Tbls. mustard-herb butter until lentils are heated through and butter has melted. Add the lemon juice and salt and pepper to taste.  Serve under cooked salmon for the classic French Saumon aux Lentilles–or not.  Like yoga, it’s about you.