Playing Fair and Being Kind

WHAT’S FOR DINNER?

Sunday July 6, 2014 I go out the door on a pretty afternoon in Boothbay. The sun has been lighting up the region nicely for the past 24 hours turning the rain of several days into grass and weeds. Other cultivars have benefited greatly as well. The gardens at The Castle are roaring along in spite of my laissez faire approach to farming. At the moment I am taking a short road trip up River Road to the egg farm to buy a dozen eggs.

As I pass Pinkham’s Sea Food Market I notice the “Open” flag is still out. I check the dashboard clock. It’s a little after 5 P.M. I haven’t eaten a lot today and I’m on the search for dinner. I thought I might have scrambled eggs but that idea leaves right away with the possibility of salmon or haddock arriving. I continue toward the egg farm with fresh thoughts of dinner swirling.

I see Frank is outside with his hens and roosters. The birds are all up on the back stoop of Frank’s house and I remark about the crowd all clustered there by the door. Frank tells me they are waiting for their ‘treat’. It seems that he has let them know that the regular occurrence is about to be re-enacted. Anyway, Frank delays the poultry gratification so he can retrieve a dozen eggs for me. “They haven’t been washed yet”, says Frank. “That’s all right. I can take care of that”, I counter.

While Frank is in the house I watch the birds being birds and listen to three roosters in a small tree by the back of the house crowing sporadically. In just a few square meters there is a lot of bird activity. Pecking and scratching and crowing and just looking around. Quite a nice scene to be a part of. Frank returns with the eggs and proceeds to fill me in on the winter losses of his birds and to explain all the missing feathers on some of the hens. I listen to Frank talk and think how much he likes his birds. I like Frank. We talk about everything except politics. Frank is a Tea Partier and I’m to the left of Progressive. We get along pretty well just the same.

I get into my car and carefully turn it around among the hens that have decided to find bugs on the tires and bumpers. I can’t see any bugs but they do some pecking on the car as I get in and start the motor. The hens all head off for the back stoop and I gently leave the yard toward the driveway and River Road.

I get to Pinkham’s happy to see the flag is still out. It takes me a while to get Russ into the retail part of the store. He was upstairs with his ailing father and didn’t hear me arrive. Russ is a genial fellow. He used to live next door to me in Trevett a long time ago when he was foot loose. Russ used to travel to Alaska for the fishing season when money was to be made. He was still young and a bit reckless and still finding out what he wanted to do with his life. Here it is 25 years later and he has a successful business selling product found in the sea. Several clammers provide Russ with fresh clams daily or as needed so at times one has to wait a minute or two ‘til he can get free to wait on the retail end.

I saw Russ had wild sockeye salmon in the case so I asked him to wrap a large piece for me. It weighed a pound and a quarter. I could eat of that for three nights if I had to. As Russ was weighing and wrapping I noticed a bucket of chopped clams with the price of $6.95 per pound. I told him to give me a pound of those and as he did so we discussed the best way to make a clam chowder. That meant I’d have to stop at Hannaford for salt pork, an onion, and potatoes. I was getting excited about dinner.

When I got home after all of the shopping was done I got to work and made a terrific clam chowder, enough for several dinners. While I was at Hannaford I discovered frozen buttermilk biscuits. A few of those in the oven and a few hours later I was spread out in my recliner filled with delicious biscuits and chowder. Not a bad day at all.