Maine

Duck Fat, Portland Maine
Belgian Fries with
Aoili, Malt Vinager Aoili, and Duck Gravy
Thai Chicken Panini





Dinner I, by Charlie's Mom, photos by Sarah
Crab Salad, before the crab
Maine Strawberries




Dinner II, by Charlie's Mom, Photos by Sarah

Maine Lobster and Spicy Maine Blueberry Pie

Snack- Roasted Hot Dogs in the cabin on the island, and smores too!









Breakfast on the Wood Fire Stove in the cabin on the island, photos by Sarah





Bob's Clam Hut, Kittery Maine
Fried Clams and Lobster Stew on the way home.

NYC Food Tour

On a partly sunny Saturday, Dave and I left ventured through Manhattan trying to find a few of the top 20 street vendors of the city. Since it was Saturday, we couldn't find a lot, so around 2pm, after a few low-glucose induced tears, we settled for an ordinary hot dog with spicy brown mustard, sourkraut, and sweet chili onions. I forgot that we were taking pictures so I ate all of mine, and we only photographed Daves; he passed on the saurkraut.

Next we went to find Hallo Berlin, but instead settled for the famous 53rd and 6th for a mixed chicken and gyro platter. We were sorry we never got to the Dosa Man, or Dogmatic Dogs, where they toast baguettes on this special spikes and then stuff them with a hot dog with creative homemade sauces.

We were so hungry for what was left of Dim Sum at HSF in Chinatown, we forget to take a picture...again. As you may have guessed this was not a well planned trip.




Not to be discouraged we headed for Dim Sum Go-Go, just to peak in the window. I wasn't sure I wanted to eat at a ultra-modern place with check off menus. But it does serve dim sum at all hours, and we were still hungry, so it shark's fin dumpling take-out. Very bland--my first clue was the three pan-Asian dipping sauces.

Dinner of sushi with Dave's Sister and Roommate.

The worlds largest bowl of soup that I ordered as a sushi alternative and no one else helped me eat!

The best part was these awesome guava candies, which we immediately bought three bags of when we got back to Boston at the Super 88!!

Bacon Wrapped Hot Dogs

Here is a piece I wrote for Food Writing Class. I don't particularily love it, it just makes me a little misty when I get to the kicker. Dads are cool!

Many people could romanticize for hours on the joys and cultural nuances of their mothers cooking, myself included. But too few of us take the time to record for posterity our fathers culinary influences. For years my family food nostalgia has silenced the contributions of my Pop, but how could I forgot those terrifying moments when my neither my mother nor my big brother were around to cook, and my step-father would sweat at the thought of feeding us skeptical, big eyed youngins?

Terror aside, these meals were often the most educational and free-spirited. My step-dad would put aside his look of trepidation, and replace it with one that said, If I fed myself well for 15 years of bachelorhood, why cant I feed the 3 of us now? Our weekday dinner suddenly became an adventure in lets eat what your mom would never approve of. That is how the tradition of the bacon wrapped hotdog started.

Pop would insist on using the all-beef plump size hotdogs. He would always serve his hot dogs with his favorite brand of mesquite BBQ potato chips, and Bushs baked beans that had been lovingly doctored with sautéed onions, Worchester sauce, and a little mustard to cut the sweetness of the brown sugar. Then he would do something even weirder, he would spoon his beans over his hotdog. As we stood in awe of the man of whom we had heard jokes about the horrible eggs he made my mom when we were little, subsequently forfeiting his rights to nourish any human member of the family, he showed an extreme attention to detail that still perplexes me today.

Originally I was ashamed that my otherwise vegetable loving family would hold this food in high regard, until I heard co-workers excitedly talking about the bacon hugged franks they had purchased from a street vendor in L.A. Upon further investigation, I found out from a L.A. native that this is a well known street food in that area of Southern California called "Mexican Hotdogs", and there they are so bold as to top them with mayonnaise. Now I understood my Pops passion; he had been raised in Los Angeles for 8 years of his adolescence, and he was trying to recreate a little piece of California in our cow-decorated Wisconsin kitchen.

Mom eventually found out about our culinary explorations into trashy convenience food, and frowned about the salsa mac, frozen chimichangas, and pizza delivery. However, since she was no stranger to the charms of bacon, she would sometimes request that he make his specialty. While Mom may have taught me how to cook for a family, my non-womens liber step-dad didn't even know that he taught me something even more valuable, the joy of cooking and living as a bachelorette.