The Cocktail Hour

There is one thing sacrosanct on Chebeague: the cocktail hour. Five o'clock sharp, hors d'oeuvres are absolute de rigueur. Women of a certain age will have gin or vodka, although Granny prefers bourbon. The men and older teenage boys throw back beers, and younger wives sip white wine. The only thing open to debate is how long an hour actually is, although I have never seen it confined to a mere 60 minutes.

The fanciest appetizers ever got in the old days was when Nabisco introduced the Triscuit® cracker back in 1903. Now things are all willy nilly with imported cheeses and ethnic salsas horning their way onto cocktail trays. Never one to pass up a chance to steal the spotlight, I whipped up a little creation that I'd been mulling over for a couple of summers, a stuffed puff pastry purse. Once they came out of the oven, they needed a name: Chebeague Satchels had a nice ring to it.

Chebeague Satchels - a recipe by Blog O. Food

1½ lb sweet Italian sausage 4 oz pine nuts 2 leeks, finely chopped 1 cup Pepperidge Farm Stuffing Mix ½ cup chopped parsley 12 Tbsp (1½ stick) unsalted butter. melted ¼ heavy cream 1 package phyllo dough

Remove sausage from its casings and crumble into a lightly oiled sauté pan. Cook just until the pink color disappears. Meanwhile, toast pine nuts in a small skillet, then remove from heat. Remove sausage to the bowl of a food processor,  and sweat leeks in pan drippings. Transfer cooked leeks to bowl with sausage. Add pine nuts and parsley and pulse food processor to break down nuts and meat. You want a slightly coarse mixture. Move to a large mixing bowl, add stuffing mix, 4 tablespoons of butter and the heavy cream, and stir to combine.

Brush one sheet of phyllo dough with melted butter and make stacks of three, buttering each sheet. With a pastry or pizza cutter, divide each stacked dough layer into six even squares and mound a tablespoon full of pork mixture into the center of each. Draw the corners of each square together and press, sealing to make a purse. Stack on a greased backing sheet. Bake satchels for 15-18 minutes in a 350° pre-heated oven. Remove from oven and serve warm.

Well, the purses were a hit on both the east and west sides of the island. They were herbally and crunchy and nutty and sweet. I probably could have doubled the recipe; they didn't last very long. With my enchilada casserole, it looks as if they'll be a part of our evolving island traditions.

Thanks for taking the time - Blog O. Food

Popovers

One thing about being a member of the Chebeague family, we will never ever go hungry. Fabulous cooks abound, along with every cook’s muse: enthusiastic eaters. Muffy is no slouch in the kitchen. An executive by day, she considers coming up with menus worthy of Bon Appétit Magazine as unwinding. She’s pretty much the queen bee in our cottage kitchen and reigns with a light, expert touch. Once everyone had arrived on the island this week, exquisite meals were churning out of the kitchen. Breakfast yesterday morning was no exception: buttermilk pancakes and fresh hot popovers.

Popovers – adapted from the New York Times Magazine 6 large eggs 2 cups milk 6 Tbsp melted butter 2 cups all-purpose flour 1 tsp salt Unsalted butter for greasing popover molds

Beat eggs lightly, add milk and melted butter and stir to combine. Sift flour & salt and gradually stir into eggs. Beat just until mixture is smooth. Do not overbeat. If the mixture is not smooth, strain it. Ladle batter into generously greased popover molds, filling almost to the top. Bake for 40 minutes in a 375° pre-heated oven. Do not open oven door during baking. Remove popovers from molds and serve with your favorite fruit preserve.

Muff makes everything look so effortless; so easy. Her popovers were amazing. Light, fluffy, and piping hot. Just a smear of raspberry preserves sent them over the top. The heavens shifted, angels wept. I am not kidding, they were that good.

When Muffy’s mother Natalie found out I could cook, she moved mountains to get Muffy and me together in the same kitchen. We’ve been swapping recipes and upping the ante ever since. Muffy is the main inspiration behind this blog. She has pushed me to take my cooking so much more seriously. She’s fanned the flames of my passion and made sharing my efforts the real reward in writing about food. She’s made me a part of her family and encouraged my every effort. I owe her a real debt. She also owes me forty-eight, ninety-five for the popover pans I felt compelled to go out and order.

Thanks for taking the time - Blog O. Food

Routines

I spend a good part of every summer on Great Chebeague Island off the coast of Portland, Maine. I made such a favorable first impression on my girl Natalie and her brood that first Thanksgiving so many years ago, that - to them - I was a logical addition to their summer party. I'm now part of an extended family that can balloon up to as many as 15 on any given day. We clamber around a rambling three-storey shingled cottage elbowing for room on couches for DVDs, and squeezing in at the breakfast table for popovers and egg "sammies".

For visitors, island life is a simple life. Reading, jigsaw puzzles, golf, naps, long walks and lots of cooking with an extended cocktail hour every afternoon. There's pier jumping, and a greased pole climbing contest at the July 4th fair. But I begin every trip to the island with a stop at Northeast Liquors for a bottle of akvavit (more on that later), and a pint of Guinness or two at Rí Rá before catching the ferry over to Chebeague. Rí Rá is conveniently located at the foot of the Casco Bay Lines dock. I've been eating and drinking there for years. Three years ago, I caught the 9:30 ferry from Chebeague every morning to watch the World Cup. I didn't miss a game. Upon arriving in Maine, my first stop is always The Rí Rá. They take pride in their traditional Irish atmosphere, slightly chilled draught beers and superior pub fare. Along with the now usual suspects of wings, crab cakes, Caesar salads, and burgers, their Irish dishes rank among the best. The Emigrant's Corned Beef & Cabbage ($12.95, served with mashed potatoes and Irish parsley sauce) is tender, obviously, but also perfectly seasoned with crushed pepper corns and a vinegary brining liquid. They do a Guinness simmered beef stew ($11.95) that rivals any red-wined also ran out of France. Finally, the traditional Irish Breakfast - eggs, bangers, rashers, pudding, grilled tomato fry up: $10.95 - is served, gratifyingly, all day long.

You can get a perfectly grilled to order burger for $8.95. It comes with a side of fries, nicely crisped and golden brown. The staff has never been anything but amazingly friendly and open. Portland thrives on a tourist trade, and the locals know it. Although I abhor thinking of myself as an outsider, the fact remains the summer crowd will never be considered locals, but I relish the hospitality showered on us every summer.

Rí Rá: 72 Commerce Street (right on the waterfront) Portland, Maine 207.761.4446

Local or tourist, arriving in Portland will feel like a homecoming. It's an unhurried, rugged, individualistic atmosphere. Consider it an invitation.

Thanks for taking the time - Blog O. Food