I never thought it would happen but I’m really fed up with cooking at home.  Even though I’m thoroughly vaxxed, I’m still hesitant to dine-in at restaurants regularly.  Yet I really don’t like take-out food unless it’s a carton of Chinese food or a box filled with pizza.  I recently went so low and bought some frozen supermarket entrees to avoid cooking and cleaning up after.  Dreadful!!!

Rao’s lasagna and spaghetti and meatballs, lasagna on the left

One exception was a delightful take out dinner from Chaval.  I’m friends with chefs/owners Damien and Illma Sansonetti, so I don’t hesitate in giving them a plug in these pages. And a recent take out meal was so satisfying.  It included a pâté plate, coq au vin and Illma’s Spanish Sundae.  What a wonderful dinner even though the costs went against my carefully curated dining-out budget, as though my bank account was an auction house of used jewels and baubles.

Chaval:  pâté plate and coq au vin

Brunswick Outing

I had the odd little pleasure of going into a coffee shop while doing errands.  I was in Brunswick where I bought a ham from Bisson’s in nearby Topsham, a jar of raw heavy cream made by Palmer Hill Farm in Unity at Morning Glory Natural Foods on Maine Street (glad to know that the 70s aroma of patchouli is still alive and well in this natural foods store); I was hoping to see Brunswick’s green lined with farm vendors.  But it’s’ still too early for outdoor markets to resume.

The Little Dog Coffee Shop  is one of the few places where you could walk in, sit down, have a cup of coffee and a snack without having to order online and pick up through a window as though from a speakeasy.

I chose avocado toast to accompany my coffee.  This piece of culinary misadventure has gotten so much attention in the last year it’s like the 2020-21 food wunderkind  like lava cake and tiramisu as extolled in today’s Portland Press Herald in an article on 1990s food making a comeback.  IDK, the dishes mentioned were those that I hope not to find in my kitchen.

It was a pleasant stop, but I’m not convinced about the glories of avocado toast.  The café had the requisite pandemic spacing of tables inside.  But the place, though, looked attractive enough if you like the vibe of a near-empty bus station.  Where was the teeming crowd of patrons, sipping, slurping and chatting? One day they’ll return. I got lost on my way out since the door that you walk through to enter is not  the same when you leave. It’s a back door that takes you into an alley behind the building to a  parking lot, which I never knew existed  Still, it was fun to do something old and familiar. (Does one way pedestrian traffic really prevent catching Covid-19?)

Little Dog Coffee Shop; avocado toast and dog collage

On my way back to Portland I stopped at Maples to buy a bag full of bagels.  As I remember they’re not bad bagels and I was hoping to find their salt and rosemary bagels, but they’re always the first to go. I’m not crazy about those  bagels made in Greater Portland except for Rose Foods but hate their cockamamie flavor combos (fennel and harissa?).  But lo and behold I’ve started enjoying Mr. Bagel’s bagels.  They’re the closest thing we have to a New York bagel.  The size is more typical rather than being large enough to cross the Atlantic. The aforementioned actually was started years ago in Portland to recreate the experience of having a NY style bagel.  I don’t care what any of the articles say, we don’t have some of the best bagels in the country–they’re facsimiles, not replacements. Nor can we get real Nova (lox) from the facsimiles sold here.  I buy Acme Nova, which is available at Market Basket; Acme smokehouse is in Brooklyn and not in the rarefied enclaves of places like Williamsburg, which I remember as no-man’s land back in the day. It’s as expensive to buy a condo there as it is in San Francisco’s Haight Ashbury.

The Cuisinart Debacle

Now I’ll tell you of my Cuisinart food processor saga.  I’ve always had two machines.  I don’t know why; in fact I used to have four of them.  One was for New York, where I lived full time; one was for my condo in Maine where I’d go, always describing it as the pied a terre in the wrong city.  Another found it’s way down to Florida where I rented a house each winter in Palm Beach.  Then adding to my collection would be the one that I hoisted into the car to cook away the summer on a Maine island.

Now I’m down to two.  One of them is a machine that I bought a few years ago because it came equipped with an adjustable slicing blade, which enabled the task of cutting anything you needed paper thin (onions, potatoes, carrots and cucumbers ) instead of using a mandolin, which scare me.

My trusty 9-cup Cuisinart is purely basic.  I use it mostly to chop onions and process flour and butter for pastry dough.  I’ve had it for at least 10 years, maybe more. But it’s various parts were going.  The top no longer functioned well, the blade was as sharp as a letter opener and the bowl was beginning to crack but still usable.  It was time to get replacement parts, which I explored on the Cuisinart web page and various conversations with customer service.   I ordered the cover (in two parts); the company calls one part the pusher.  And the bowl.  I had to identify the machine from the serial number.  This is as difficult as finding the Dead Sea scrolls in the glaciers.  It’s there on the bottom of the bowl. Except that the numbers were so scratched it was hard to know if what I was reading was correct.  I used a magnifying glass and a bright light to get it right.

It worked and $72 later I had the replacement parts on order.  First to arrive was the top parts but not the bowl.  The new top parts worked on my old bowl.  I waited several weeks more for the work bowl.  My machine has a serial number of 2007N.

Brand new 11-cup Cuisinart food processor

The procession of work bowls were journeys of one mishap after the other.  The first one to arrive was the 7-cup size.  I called up customer service to explain that they sent me the wrong bowl.  What probably confused them was the model number of 2007, meaning a bowl size #7?  I asked for a packing slip return label and sent it back.  I waited a few more weeks for the new bowl to arrive and when it did the shipping box held the same 7-cup bowl.  This was ridiculous. Then I saw an ad in my email for the gleaming 11-cup Cuisinart on sale for $169 at Bed, Bath and Beyond.  It was made with the shiny chrome base, which is heavy and sturdy and with my two discount coupons I could land an additional $40 discount.

I rushed down to BB&B in South Portland and picked it up.  I  unpacked it anxiously like putting on a new sweater and put the parts together.  And wouldn’t you know it was a defective machine.  The top and bottom would not work.  You couldn’t put them together.  I went back to South Portland, returned it and the store ordered a replacement.  It arrived 4 days later in the mail.

Finally I have a fully functioning food processor from Cuisinart.  I’m hesitant about returning the other spare parts for a refund because I couldn’t stand  enduring the 55 minutes of being on hold with customer service as I had the last two times.

Now it’s Easter morning.  I’m not of the faith that celebrates the holiday but I do like cooking its traditional fare. In this case ham.  I have two hams in the refrigerator.  One was packed at Bisson’s on Friday and the other is one that I bought on March 11.  I was worried that I had kept the older one too long.  Bisson’s assured me that it should be fine.  Being the neurotic that I am I bought the second ham,  as back up just in case.

When I opened the older ham, it wasn’t right: slimy (the first sign of meat going bad)  but no off smell.  I wasn’t going to risk it and used the fresher ham.  Though I woke up in a panic this morning because I realized that I didn’t have canned sliced pineapple to decorate the roast.  I forgot all about it.  Can I get it today when all supermarkets are closed?  Rosemont is open (doubtful they’ll have canned pineapple) and there’s always the chance that Cumberland Farms might sell canned pineapple (dream on). But Smaha’s market is open today and they had a shelf full of canned pineapple slices.  Thank goodness for small neighborhood markets. Portland Food Coop, also open today,  only carries the chunks.

I can’t wait to start eating out regularly again.  This so-called quarantine cooking is getting pretty tiresome.  I’m not in quarantine–never have–so why?  My best answer (since one shouldn’t end a post with a question mark) is IDK.