I’ve discovered something completely awesome in Maine, but I’m assuming it’s not sold only in Maine:
You put the bottle in the microwave for a minute and then dispense at will. It makes it easy to achieve the important 50/50 ice cream to hot fudge ratio. Then you put the bottle back in the fridge and microwave it again later. I mean the next day. It suffers no ill effects from being repeatedly heated and cooled.
All I know is, when I get back from Maine, I have to make Iris a lobster roll. She made this clear.
When some friends of mine said they were renting a house in Maine and invited me to come along, I wasn’t sure whether I could justify the expense or being away from the rest of the family for a few days. Then I thought about lobster. I had never had a lobster roll. I don’t know if any place in Seattle serves a lobster roll. For one thing, it requires the kind of top-split hot dog buns you only see on the East Coast.
I was so intent on lobster rolls that I convinced Liza and Dan, who were giving me a ride up from Boston, that we should find a roadside shack and get lobster rolls for lunch. By the time we got to Portland, it was 3:30. We were about ready to dive into the water and eat barnacles. There was a real danger that this roadside shack existed only in my imagination. Luckily, Maine really is a state of roadside seafood shacks. We stopped at one called Benny’s, which claimed to have the best lobster roll in the state. They also claimed the best fried clams, the best clam burger, and so on.
It may be that other shacks make this claim. Just a hunch. While some lobster rolls are surely better than others, I assume they’re all good. Buttered, toasted hot dog bun, lettuce, and lightly dressed lobster salad. How could this go wrong? Benny’s had a tent set up next to a wooded area. Basically we ate our lobster rolls in a forest. Down the block, people were selling live lobsters from a van.
The problem with lobster rolls: your first turns you into an addict. I am supposed to be playing foosball and sitting in the hot tub. Instead I am writing about lobster rolls, plotting my next few lobster rolls, thinking about a lobster roll line-item in the budget.
This may be old news, but I was at the Columbia City Farmers Market today, and Columbia City Bakery’s famed Walnut Levain loaf is now available in individual size in the form of the Walnut Ficelle. It’s more demi-baguette than ficelle, really. Not that I am complaining.
Laurie and Iris are in Portland, so I’m having the walnut loaf, a couple of scrambled eggs, and some Rainier cherries for dinner.
I’m pleased to report that I am now part of the [Serious Eats](http://www.seriouseats.com/) family, whose patriarch is New York food writer Ed Levine. Other members of the clan include pizza expert Adam Kuban of [Slice](http://slice.seriouseats.com/); Adam Roberts, the [Amateur Gourmet](http://www.amateurgourmet.com/); and other people not named Adam.
I’ll be writing for S.E. every other Monday on the topic of kids and food (no way!). My first post is:
> OK, I had a bag of the stuff on top of the fridge, but we’re past the stage where my three-year-old, Iris, would request Booty and a cup of warm milk every afternoon for a snack. And adults don’t eat that sort of thing. Maybe seven or 12 pieces here and there while preparing Iris’s snack. That’s it.
Today in the Seattle Times:
> If I were an Olympic judge, I’d give the August farm-stand tomatillos a 10. But here’s the trick: I’ve picked up tomatillos at the supermarket in April, and I’d have to give them at least a 7.
The article doesn’t mention this, but there are other reasons I’d be a great Olympic judge. Like, during the figure skating, I’d be yelling out things like, “That flippy thing was great! I give it a ten!” And the Russian judge would be elbowing me and saying the scoring only went up to six, and I’d be all, “Cram it, Helga! Where I come from, if you flip your junk around like that, you get a ten.”
Today’s recipe, I notice, looks really long and complicated. I assure you it’s easy and worth making over and over.