Hunger Pangs

A woman should never be seen eating or drinking, unless it be lobster salad and champagne, the only true feminine and becoming viands. ~ Lord Byron 

I can do without the champagne...but not the lobster.  This feast, my first dinner in Cape Cod, had 'Stephanie' written all over it.  The food was delicious.  The company?  Illustrious, to say the least. The repast was shared with Suzy and Burnie, Julian and Sam, Paul and Mary Jo, Roxanne and David, Ellie and Rosie (who loved me best of all, I'm quite sure), and Boomer, too.   What greater thing is there for human souls than to feel that they are joined for life - to be with each other in silent unspeakable memories. ~George Eliot    Maybe this, in part, does the most to facilitate an explanation of the stronghold my Chatham getaway has on my mind and heart.  The sharing of a meal is truly an intimate experience.  My first evening there was spent in conversation...around the dinner table, seated on the couch with company, leaning against the deck in the evening air...and continuing long into the night.  Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one. ~Jane Howard


A View at Provincetown

 Flamboyance is the theme at Provincetown, the original landing site of the Pilgrims.  I'll skip the description of the town and leave the research to you.  I did enjoy a bit of pole dancing at the Governor Bradford though, and can assure you this is the most conservative act that took place in town that day...unless you count my lunch of lobster wontons and~you guessed it~clam chowder.  And by the way, I was not the only "girl" wearing heels that afternoon.

Sunday was spent on Nantucket.  Words cannot adequately express my feelings about this place.  It is very old.  It is lovely.  It is hauntingly mysterious.  Suffice it to say, I left behind a piece of my heart on that small island in the Atlantic.  It gives me reason enough to return.

While this post is primarily about the rumblings of my stomach (and I could tell you about my delicious lunch of crab cake with remoulade sauce while on the island), in this space I can't help but post photos of some beloved architecture.  The captains' houses, the widows' walks, the cobblestone streets.  What's not to love?

Notice the Widow's Walk...How often did the inhabitants watch for returning ships?

Perfection.  This one is my favorite!

A lovely Nantucket home, proudly flying the American flag.

The doorway beckons...

An inviting facade, both the boy and the house.

The Jared Coffin House, now a Bed and Breakfast...
and reportedly haunted.  Boo!

Surveyed and laid out in 1678,
Centre Street is the oldest street in Nantucket.

 

 


Cobblestones on the Causeway

More architectural love. Clean lines. Classically Nantucket.



Another incredible Captain's house



The Brotherhood of Thieves..."Good Food, Good Drink, Good Company"
(Even the ghosts think so.)

*     *     *  

There is nothing better on a cold wintry day than a properly made pot pie. ~Craig Claiborne  The most amazing chicken pot pie, served in a bread bowl, was just the ticket for Burnie, Suzy, and Kelly.  Logan, my other dinner date, enjoyed fish (since his requisite 'crabs' were not on the menu).  My own farewell meal at The Nun is best summed up like this:  Soup and fish explain half the emotions of human life. ~Sydney Smith   I have always been adamant that other than in chowder or bisque, I detest clams.  I've recently added another exception to my list, however. 

quahog  (ˈkɔːˌhɒɡ)

1753, from an Algonquian language, perhaps Narragansett poquauhock or Pequot p'quaghhaug, "hard clam"

This definition is a bonus...  My favorite holiday is Thanksgiving. One of the primary reasons is my love of the history that accompanies the celebration.  This includes teaching young children about the Wompanoag tribe...an Algonquian people. There is nothing like authentic, New England-style, Baked Stuffed Quahog to send me on journey back in time.  For some reason though, I feel a bit more like a Wompanoag squaw than a Pilgrim.  Anyway, I do now finally understand the significance of clams at the First Thanksgiving.  God is certainly good!  

Batter-Fried Lobster Tail with Butter



As the days grow short, some faces grow long. But not mine. Every autumn, when the wind turns cold and darkness comes early, I am suddenly happy. It's time to start making soup again.

~Leslie Newman 

The Red Nun, Oh how I love thee.

Upon my return from Cape Cod, I immediately began to voice my craving for clam chowder.  The uninformed response?  "There is clam chowder in the pantry."  I am trying hard these days not to be argumentative, but frankly, "THERE IS NO CLAM CHOWDER IN THE PANTRY."  Not real chowder, that is.  Not New England clam chowder.  There is a distinct difference.  Ah, and the North Atlantic coast continues its lure on my palette... 

Cape Cod + Me = Love

Are we not like two volumes of one book?

~Marceline Desbordes-Valmore