June 26, 2016, Downeast Maine
Different Ways of Identifying and Doing Things
Downeast
There are a few practices that seem to be unique to the region, starting with the term “Downeast” which refers to the upper portion of Maine and part of the Canadian maritime provinces. (It corresponds roughly to the French holdings of the 18th century, one-time home of the Cajun people, their name being a corruption of the French name for the region, Acadiana.) Sailing was the only real means of connecting this region to the rest of the Atlantic coast, and the prevailing winds from Boston on up are from the southwest; to sail to the Acadian area was to sail downwind. So the region, relative to the hub of Boston, was the downwind portion of the east coast, or the “down east.” Apparently some locals still say “going up to Boston.”
Bean Suppers and Mattress Sales
A frequent church event, the community gathers to share a pot of baked beans (molasses and bacon are involved), sides and, importantly, pies. We have had the opportunity to attend several in our travels but declined for fear that we would not get enough to eat and be objects of curiosity.
“Mattress sales” show up with regularity. These are fundraisers, where people buy new mattresses with the profit going to the church or the school. I go a long time between mattresses, myself. I don’t see how this can be a profitable endeavor unless, for some reason, the people of Maine have reason to replace their mattresses with great frequency. This would interest me. A thought occurs to me regarding the bean suppers but I will let it pass.
Ice Cream
There are lots of little ice cream stands in Maine. You are never far from one. I like ice cream but they really like it.
Pickled Wrinkles
Stopped in a bar to try a local “delicacy” (“delicacy” having come to mean something for which a small group of people have acquired a taste that others have not had the courage or opportunity to try) called pickled wrinkle. The wrinkle in question is a type of whelk, a small sea snail. Most whelks live in tidal margins but this fellow is found attached to lobster traps in deep water. Watermen here save the wrinkles and pickle them in vinegar to have a protein-rich snack in winter. I bought four for $3.95. There are the size of a small mussel, and taste mostly like pickling brine with a conch-like chew on the good side of rubbery. A better source of protein than a Cliff bar for my money.
Crab
The local crab is Jonah crab, another lobster pot bycatch. It is close to blue crab but stringier, not unpleasantly, and slightly fishier, also not a turn-off. But I’ll take my crab blue, thanks. Better yet, pass me another lobster.
Fiddlehead Ferns
We’ve eaten these several times now. Like asparagus in taste, they are in season now, attractive bright green things, the size of a silver dollar, coiled like the top of a fiddle. Probably good for you in some way.
Day and Night
This is meteorological, not cultural. Bushwood is at 38 degrees latitude, roughly, and we are at 44.5 now. First light (mostly a nautical term meaning when you can first see the horizon but it has a formal military meaning, i.e. the sun is 12 degrees below the horizon) is a little after 4am. Well before 5 it is bright enough to sort beans for the church dinner. And it stays light until well after 9. The stars don’t really start to come out until 10pm. When you get to 60 degrees latitude you are in the land of perpetual daylight (in summer. The shoe is on the other foot in winter, here—long, long nights.) So the vegetation and wildlife here sprint to life—profusions of wildflowers and warblers. We are asleep before the stars come out and up before you.