Wine Fest, Stuffed Dates, and Friends

What a time! So much has happened.

I can’t believe you aren’t here—enjoying the sunshine, the orange and scarlet trees, the apple pie Charlotte baked… I was Ms. Cook this morning and almost everyone ordered the omlette with avocado and boursin cheese. And Smith’s Smokehouse bacon is still getting raves.


My dear friends Ms. Dorothy and Karen (Dorothy’s daughter) from Western Massachusetts came to visit last weekend. They both play the piano and organ so I got them to try the melodeon, which I believe to be from 1857. If I have the story right (and I generally get about 50% of any story right), the previous owners bought it at an auction in Deer Isle, during a storm, rescuing it from standing in many inches of water.

The second annual Foliage, Food and Wine Festival—fabulousy fun!—started with me getting to be on TV (WABI-5, a local station). They showed a clip of me saying that climbing Blue Hill Mountain legitimizes dessert—how many of you have heard me say that?! Thursday night I snuck away from the inn and went to the Arborvine’s wine dinner with my friend Paige Lilly. I loved the tuna that night—one of those dishes that demand closed eyes and rapt attention. Their regular menu includes Bagaduce River Oysters—on the half shell—with a frozen sake mignonette, an amazing combination.


Friday night we offered a six-course, nine wine dinner at the inn as part of the festival. I was nervous—Mary and Don, the previous innkeepers here, left big shoes to fill— but fun was had by all. The crispy bacon wrapped dates (recipe below) won best food offering—and they were masterfully paired with a 2005 Californian syrah, Neyers by Steve Tartaglia, our fabulous wine guy from Maine Distributors.

On Sunday I brought pecan muffins (see Oct. 4’s entry for the recipe), chocolate chip cookies, and the crazy Lake Champlain Aztec chocolates to the town park where live jazz and food vendors filled a big white tent. The best part for me—well, there were so many. I got to meet Margaret Whalen, the artist who did the great poster image for the festival (which my photo doesn’t show well at all) and Barbara Martin, owner of Gallery 66 where Margaret’s work is shown. I also got reacquainted with Steve Schaffer, who with his wife Kate, have started Black Dinah Chocolates out on Isle au Haut. I’m already planning for next year’s event. Book now for a great weekend.

Another friend came to visit me this month—Mo Ringey. The tagline to my blog could be “inspired by Mo” as reading hers over the years has definitely given me help getting started. Visiting her website or reading her blog is like a creativity outing, and we should all go on more of those.

I have the nicest guests—just the nicest guests--Angela and Jess Correll made a fabulously generous donation to the Emmaus Homeless Shelter on behalf of the inn. The shelter is one of the nonprofit organizations we support. Blue Hill Heritage Trust is another. They own and maintain property on Blue Hill Mountain, including the summit. I managed to get out and climb it again recently--stunning--and I so regretted not having my camera. The autumn colors against the blue blue sky—scrumptious.

Long-time guests “Mea Culpa Morris” from Old Greenwich, Connecticut, got a laugh from me the other morning at the post office. They had departed with a key to their room (not their regular room, 10, which was already booked by the Whitakers from Laguna Beach, California—what could I do? If a guest calls months ahead of time to book a room, I can’t kick them out…). So the Morrises dashed off with their key but had a change of heart and mailed it in to the “Key Dept.” at the Blue Hill Inn. The key department is located in the same corner of the kitchen as the innkeeper’s office, the reservations desk, the concierge stand, the kitchen manager’s office, personnel department…

The inn is a member of the Select Registry, which assures guests that we undergo a thorough inspection on a regular basis. The Courts, guests from California, just left but not before noting that the inn passed a very important criterion not included on too many inspection lists: there are no stuffed animals. Rest assured, we aren’t a stuffed animal, Raggedy Ann doll sort of inn. The rooms aren’t too fussy and we’re friendly and approachable, never arrogant. (We have been known to leave an extra pillow chocolate for the teddy bear a guest brought--keep that in mind if you like the Lake Champlain candies.)

Here’s the recipe I promised you from the wine dinner. Serve them with a big bold red wine.

Crispy Bacon Wrapped Stuffed Dates

Serves 8
16 large Medjool dates, pitted
16 roasted almonds, slivered
Scant ¼ cup mild goat cheese, crumbled
8 slices of bacon (about 7 ounces), halved crosswise

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Cut a lengthwise slit in each date. Stuff with one slivered almond and about ½ teaspoon of the cheese. Pinch closed. Wrap each date securely in a slice of bacon and arrange, seam side down, on a wire rack set on a baking sheet. Bake, turning once after ten minutes, for about 20 minutes or until the bacon is browned and crisp. Serve warm or at room temperature.

The fawn

The other morning I got wrapped up in paperwork and the post office had closed before I realized it and the store I needed to get to in Ellsworth was only open until noon and here it was 10 after. So I made the best of this gorgeous day and went up Blue Hill Mountain.

As I was coming down the meadow side, I heard a noise ahead on the path and thought I'd be coming across a dog. Instead, a small fawn crashed about and then stopped to nibble on acorns. I froze and watched it; it nibbled and watched me, its tail impossibly white and ears impossibly big. Its huge brown eyes took me in. I stood so still, ignoring the mosquito that was also nibbling. Just this morning, in the few moments I stole before coming into the inn, I had read a part in Eat, Pray, Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert, where she is meditating outside of an ashram and getting bitten by mosquitoes but is so determined to be still and allow the sensations to pass, a Vipassana-type meditation, that she ends up with more than 20 bites. I suffered much less, and still the fawn watched me as I watched it. Some other hikers came behind me--guests at the inn as it turned out--and I gestured them to come ahead quietly, which they did. We all watched for a bit longer and then I yielded to the call of my errands and the inn and headed down the path. (I once spent 10 days at a Vipassana retreat center in silent mediation. Really. Ten days.)
Seeing the fawn made me miss my brother who stills live in Wisconsin where we all grew up. So I called from my cell phone as I was hiking down the hill. Sister-in-law Angie answered the phone but they were all crazy busy so I couldn't ask him my deer questions (how big should a fawn be if it's away from its mom? Did I really see it spitting out acorn tops? Why didn't it have spots?) George, my brother, would know. He's lived in Wisconsin almost his whole life and he loves the woods and nature and hunting. And he and his wife and their son Chase started Whitetail Bluff Camp and Resort in Cassville, Wisconsin, on the bluffs of the Mississippi. As is often the case, who we are as kids is who we become as adults. I was never too crazy about camping and he was never too keen on hotels. At his place, I stay in a cabin. The list of reasons to rent a cabin instead of sleeping in a tent are funny and exactly right. If you've stayed here with me and then go to Whitetail Bluff, tell George and Angie and your first drink will be on me. George might even throw in a crappie jig, or pair of earrings. He makes them right there at the bar so you can design them with him.

I certainly have met the most interesting guests. Sue and Annette, spontaneously in from Chicago as Annette's husband is a pilot and she can hop aboard flights, started their New England tour in Bangor, touring a cemetery and driving by Stephen King's home. Their description of Mount Hope Cemetery got me curious. It's the second oldest garden cemetery in the United States.

On my way into work the other morning, I had to stop and pick up leaves--so gorgeous! The mugs are from Rackliffe Pottery. Denny Rackliffe and his wife Margaret are amazing. Whenever I stop in, I get a tour and they have some new product to show me--or to offer to make for us (our syrup pitchers are fabulous).

I've been looking for a dictionary stand for the small parlor. I am the sort who loves to have reference books around and will often dash out of the room at a party to grab the Oxford English Dictionary, or just Miriam-Webster, to check on the meaning or etymology of a word. Last night, a couple from California and I were chatting at cocktail hour (sundried tomato tartlettes, saga cheese with fresh pear and glazed pecans, corn salsa stuffed tiny tomatoes) and we got onto geometry--Alan used to teach math--and writing, Alys was an English major as was I. No dictionary stand as yet, and the reference books haven't gotten unpacked yet so I grabbed the laptop and took advantage of the wireless. "Participle" was one we were wondering about. Now the inn has truly been inaugurated.

Those pecan mini muffins!

My friend Prof. John visited me and as I was driving us to Deer Isle by way of Brooklin, boat building capital of the world, we saw an Eric Dow dingy for sale on the side of the road. One thing lead to another and soon we were rowing in Center Harbor! I haven't made a final decision yet on whether to get a fiberglass or wooden peapod but next year a little rowboat will be added to the list of amenities at the inn.

Please, please, please plan to get on a boat when you’re here. The coastline is best appreciated from the water, whether in a kayak, a dingy, a sailboat, or a handsome lobster boat. We know some great captains who can show you a thing or two.

A guest from Virginia had me learning about skipjack boats this morning. He's completely rebuilt one! What crazy looking boats.

Cap’n Don Radovich, head of the kitchen right now, discovered the best muffin recipe ever. Ever. As in, you must try these now. Now. Stop reading and start baking.

Pecan Mini Muffins

1/3 cup butter, melted
1 cup light or dark brown sugar
2 eggs
1 cup all purpose flour
½ teaspoon baking powder
1 cup chopped pecans
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
more butter for preparing pan

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a large bowl combine all of the ingredients. Fill greased mini muffin tin ¾ full and bake for 10-15 minutes. Makes about 30 mini muffins.

This is Don's variation of a recipe from the Borgman’s Bed and Breakfast in Arrow Rock, Missouri.

What the dream was all about

I am, as Capt. Bill from Old Quarry Ocean Adventures would say, a happy camper--well, happy innkeeper. Why? Today was a great day. Right now, eight guests--two tables--are playing cards. The gals from Texas are playing canasta, a game from my childhood. They are a great giggling heap of Southern fun, snapping pictures at the breakfast table of the food and the pretty Rowantrees Pottery blueberry napkin rings. And they brought me a present--pumpkins and a great yellow mum for the front step. There I was, getting ready for hors d'ouevres hour in the kitchen when they pulled me out saying they had something for me. If they email me the picture, I'll pass it along.

Some of the guests are in town for a wedding--tonight was the traditional lobster bake, with corn on the cob and blueberry cobbler. The men from Hawaii wanted to get invited but went to the Blue Moose instead and settled for Cornish game hen and the BBQ ribs, and then came back and sweet-talked me out of extra pillow chocolates. Then the two couples from California came back from the Arborvine, pleased as punch with their fine meals and their tour of the kitchen up there. The folks attending the Maine Maritime Academy are struggling with reunion syndrome--you know, when one spouse knows everyone and all the stories and the other knows nobody at all. I'm hoping the skylights in room 9 will make it all better--the sky has cleared and the moon is very sassy tonight.

The caramel cookies Charlotte baked keep disappearing and I keep replenishing the plate but it looks like tomorrow will be a baking day. I'd have more of the lemon blueberry bars to offer but I sent a plate of them up to Boatyard Bob at the Brooklin Boatyard with some guests who toured the boatyard and checked on the progress of the big boat being launched in October. Looks to be on schedule. A German man came in looking for a room for tonight. I fed him blueberry bars while I called around and found him a vacancy down the road. As I insisted he take a bar for his wife, he said he felt like he was being taken care of by his mother. Be warned--I do try to feed everyone who comes through the door.

Earlier today I was at the post office and ran into an old friend, just in time to get help carrying groceries and mail into the inn. She sampled the apples and pears from the trees in the orchard and pronounced some were good eatin', some were perfect for pie, and some for cobblers. The hammock often catches the pears.

I also got an email from Don Johnson (no, the other one) about his Inn Your Dreams class. He's bringing the class here for lunch and a class session in October. I can't wait--I took his class in spring 2006 and look at me now! In November 2008 the class will meet here--sign up now!

And, I'm wearing a gorgeous necklace that my friend Margaret made--she's starting to sell them online--fabulous work. And the weather should be great for the wedding tomorrow (maybe the men from Hawaii will get invited to the party over Don's pecan muffins at breakfast) and for sailing on the Perelandra and for kayaking in Stonington and Castine, and there's fresh cider in the fridge and more glazed pecans.

The pictures are snapshots from the other day. I cruised down Parker Point Road with the top down, looking for color, and later, went up Blue Hill Mountain looking for the sunset and moonrise. Glorious!

The Foliage, Food & Wine Fest

September has been busy and beautiful (I'm over my crankiness at that one full day of rain we had. We needed it and the gardens look great). Gorgeous mums now grace the front entryway. I snuck off to try a new restaurant, Stella’s in Castine, with a friend of mine for dinner and some live jazz. French onion soup was on the menu and just heavenly. Diane Linscott sang, accompanied by Rick Dostie on piano.

Guests have been taking advantage of the lighthouse package this month—and had great weather for the boat ride. I pack the lunches myself and try to create sandwiches I think guests will enjoy (the smoked chicken with boursin cheese and heirloom tomatoes—on the side so the bread wouldn’t get soggy—got rave reviews). In October, the inn has a few more special offerings. The Second Annual Foliage, Food & Wine Festival is Oct. 11-13. A six-course tasting menu with wine pairings will be held at the inn Friday, Oct. 12. Tickets are $30 and seating is limited. Other events around town include a wine dinner Thursday night at the Arborvine and a sparkling wine luncheon Saturday at the Wescott Forge. The festival culminates with a “Taste of the Peninsula” Sunday afternoon in the town park with live jazz and delights from local food purveyors and producers.

We also have our Monday night candlelit lobster dinners Oct. 15 and Oct. 22 and cookbook author Brooke Dojny will be coming by one Sunday morning to meet guests and see how we’re doing baking some of her fabulous bread recipes from Dishing Up Maine. I'm cooking breakfast tomorrow morning and have a recipe from her book earmarked. She came by the inn on foot, while her car was being taken care of at the shop. I love living in town!

Last week, I went on a field trip to the Brooklin Boat Yard to see my friend Bob Stephens. I put the top down on my convertible, grabbed the Cartwrights, guests who are self-proclaimed boatyard junkies, wrapped up some lemon zest cake for the boatbuilders, and left Charlotte in charge of the inn. At the boatyard, they are building a 59-foot cruising ketch for some folks from Texas who are frequent guests at the inn. Bob loves his job--it shows--and the boats they build are elegant, just elegant. Bob's been helping me with my quest for a small rowboat and he had a lead for me on a tender but I looked at the pictures and I'm not sure it's the right one for me (I have to admit, I'm not sure if a tender is the same as a dingy or a rowboat or not. I'm lucky to have a friend who'll make sure I end up with a beauty of a wooden boat guests can use to row around in.)

When guests ask where to walk or jog, I suggest heading down Parker Point Road. I got out myself last week. From the inn, an old town fountain, a gift of Robert Adams in 1902, marks a half-mile. Just over a mile is the Blue Hill Country Club, with its golf course and tennis courts. Just beyond are lovely views in both directions. To the right is a pond replete with cattails and lily pads. To the left is the salt water of Blue Hill Harbor, shown in the picture above and here. The views just get more amazing farther down the road but that was all the time I had that day.

The Blue Hill Fair, fried scallops, and a toasty fire

The Blue Hill Fair--which is what E.B. White based the fair in Charlotte's Web on--is held each year over Labor Day. Guests returned to the inn after going to the midway and reported on the sheep dog trials, the antique tractor pull, the Italian sausages, and the Ferris wheel. I didn’t get to the fair this year—running an inn is all the excitement I need and our kielbasa from Smith’s Smokehouse is heavenly but I did climb Blue Hill Mountain one dawn before work to see the Ferris wheel. I love climbing the mountain because you don’t have to go too far to see the spectacular view of Blue Hill and the bay opening up beneath you.



We had the best weather for the weekend activities and it continues to be just stunning. I have to admit, though, the leaves have that September look about them. I flat out refuse to admit that some have started to change color a little tiny bit. For all the leaf-changing information, check out Maine’s foliage website.

My friend Erica Wheeler came through town Wednesday on her way to perform in Prospect Harbor. We walked to the hardware store to run an errand and then meandered on to the seaside cemetery. We decided to get take out from the Fish Net—I almost always get the fried scallops but their crab rolls are great—and then walked to the town landing to enjoy our dinner on Blue Hill Bay. I’m always suggesting guests do that but it’s the first time I’ve actually made the stroll myself. I love being able to walk around town to restaurants and the shore. Back at the inn guests were enjoying assistant innkeeper Charlotte’s hors d’oeuvres, including a duck liver mousse and a caramelized onion tart.

This morning was the first time this fall we've had a fire in the main parlor’s fireplace—what a treat! I’ll admit, a nice fire makes a chilly morning much more palatable (and this morning so did Don’s peaches and cream muffins!). Tomorrow the weathermen say we'll have temperatures in the high 70s and plenty of sunshine.

I hope your September has gotten off to a great start, too.

The full moon and peaches

Another reason fall is a great time to visit Blue Hill: Karen is taking guests out kayaking until Oct. 12. That means Sept. 26 is another opportunity to be out on the water for sunset and full moonrise and there’s tons of nights to see the night phosphorescence. I went out Monday night, with my cousin Stephanie AuWerter, who was escaping her crazy NYC life (her room at the inn is bigger than her apartment), and we had the perfect Castine afternoon and evening. We walked up to Dyces Head Lighthouse, snacked at Dennett's Wharf (and yes, now there’s a dollar bill on the ceiling with our names on it), and then went kayaking with Karen in Castine Harbor. The sun went down in glorious pinks, the moon rose fat and sassy, and my paddling improved a tiny bit under Karen’s patient guidance. As we glided in the dark, our paddles stirred up bioluminescent organisms. We considered after-kayaking drinks but were too pooped and just came back to the inn.

On the menu for tomorrow’s breakfast? Peaches! A local orchard dropped by a big basketful today. And we’ve been serving stuffed tomatoes with our hors d’ouevres—sometimes with a pesto made with basil from our herb garden, sometimes with crabmeat I’ve been picking up at the farmer’s market, and tonight with Greek yogurt, smoked salmon, and some chives from the garden. The tomatoes come from Brooksville and are so good I’ve learned to like them raw, a big change for me.