Today In the Kitchen: More treasures on the last miles to Maine

I can’t think of anyplace more beautiful than Maine in the summer.

We’ve finally gotten a break from biblical rains, and today made the final leg via ferry to Peak’s Island, one of the Calendar Islands in Portland Harbor. We’re staying at my cousin’s place, facing northeast, and overlooking the strait between Peak’s and Great Diamond Islands. Stella and I made a pilgrimage to the backside (windward orientation) this afternoon, and although the wild roses peaked about a month ago and hips have started to form, there are still enough blossoms to emit a fragrance that is so primal in my blood that I cannot identify its origins. Intoxicating.

These rose hips get as big as an inch in diameter. It’s best to harvest them after the first frost. They can be used fresh in various ways: washed, trimmed, crushed and steeped in hot water to make a lovely, fragrant tea, or mashed and simmered with water, then strained and thickened to make an equally lovely jelly. These concoctions need only a little sweetening so as not to overpower the delicate flavor. Mild honey is the perfect companion. They can also be dried for making tea that tastes like summer during the winter.

Of course, lobster is the delicacy of choice. I have had three infusions (lobster roll, stew, and boiled), as well as two engorgements of clams (one fried and enjoyed at the beach and one steamed and dipped in butter). Real butter. I’ve talked about this before. Even my mother has finally gotten the message that margarine is not food. It is plastic. Best to use a little, pure butter that the body can utilize, than lots of the other stuff. I’ve also had a less-known specialty of the area — haddock. It is a flavorful yet mild fish, best baked in cracker crumbs and butter until just tender.

Can’t forget the berries. Native Maine blueberries are smaller than a lot of the commercial ones we buy in Arizona, but they are much more flavorful. We’ve been out picking strawberries, too. Marvelous, big, juicy Sparkles. I make a morning smoothie with them, yogurt, some rice milk, and a little agave nectar. Mmm. I see in the Slow Food news that people in Portland are trying to bring back the Marshall strawberry, described as “exceedingly handsome, splendidly flavored, pleasantly sprightly, aromatic and juicy.” It dates to 1890. Some organizations, such as Slow Food, are trying to save old varieties of fruit and vegetables that have been dominated by more commercially viable hybrids that usually don’t taste as good as the heirlooms.

Some of you New Englanders might recognize these regional anomalies: Italian sandwiches (not anything like the ones Subway and Quiznos are trying to pass off), whoopie pies, and my personal favorite, chocolate powdered cake donuts. Needless to say, my attempt to lose 10 pounds before my 40th high school reunion has failed. However, the moisture has made my skin look less dry and wrinkled. You win some, you lose some.

Now I’ll fill in the travel gaps from upstate New York to Maine. It rained, torrentially, the whole way. We had to stop about every hour, so it was a long day. But the overriding impression was the juxtaposition of Native American and Colonial words on the signs. Some examples: Seneca Falls Women’s Rights Center, where Elizabeth Cady Stanton organized the first Women’s Rights Convention in 1848; Chicopee, Quinebaug, Ogunquit; and Hudson Valley, Sturbridge, Littleton Common and York.

That’s the end of the travelogue until we head back cross country in August, via a different route, so we should be encountering new phenomena. I will leave you with a quote from one of the books I listened to en route: “You look like I need a drink.” And that’s all she wrote.

Samaya Jones is a Holistic Nutritional Consultant and Natural Foods Personal Chef, who cooks for you and your guests in your home. She writes for health websites, newspapers, and teaches wine education classes. She can be reached at ncsamayaj@gmail.com.