Life in Portland
Ciao, amici!
We’ve been Portland residents for a week and a half now, and, aside from an unfortunate incident involving Charlie and a large neighbor of ours, we’re settled nicely.
We like Maine very much so far. Here’s a bit of local color: we’ve learned that even if we live in the state for another 50 years, we will always have the label “from away” glued to us. Anyone not born on the state’s mainland or one of its surrounding islands is, without exception, “from away”. As in, “Thom and Jen? They’re that couple from away, aren’t they?” We chatted with a very nice, older real estate agent who let us know she moved here over 30 years ago from Boston, and is still considered a “foreigner.” Molto interessante.
This past Sunday, we decided to explore Peaks Island. We walked down to the waterfront to buy two ferry tickets, heard the final boarding call after our tickets were in hand, and even though we hustled out to the dock, the ferry whistle started screeching as the ferry pulled away. We laughed so hard, because “final boarding call” apparently translates to, “If you’re standing no more than 3.2 feet from the ferry platform, board the boat now; we’re seabound.”
So, on to Plan Two: We meandered over to one of the many Irish pubs nearby, with the intention of catching the next hour’s ferry, but no dice: we met two extremely funny and interesting older gentlemen there, Kilman and Paul, and wound up chatting with them about Portland and travel for hours. Paul, originally from Brooklyn (with accompanying accent), was the Voice of Warning (about everything from Maine winters to invading tourists). Every ten minutes or so when he’d heard enough of Paul’s observations, Kilman would slam down his sandwich in disgust and shout, “Oh Paul, that is the biggest bunch of horseshit. Portland winters ahn’t that hahd.” Oh, we just laughed and laughed at their spirited commentary… We hope to see them again soon.
We’re two blocks from Portland’s public market, and we invade it every couple of days for a bunch of fresh vegetables and great cheeses. Maine has so many farmers and producers; we’ve already discovered how much we’re going to like having fresh food so handy. One of the fruitstands alone had over a dozen apple varieties the other day; most I’ve never heard of, and it’s so much fun to try new ones.
We also learned that throughout the end of October there’s a farmer’s market every Wednesday and Saturday in town. The Wednesday market is right up in Monument Square, just a few blocks away. We went this past Wednesday, and there were a bunch of musicians and little kids dancing, art students from the nearby Maine College of Art on the ground sketching piles of pumpkins, sausage and BBQ stands, and the works. We bought some funky things like blue potatoes and enormous, fresh heirloom tomatoes, before plunking down in the sun near the monument with our lunch of spicy sausages.
Portland is so neat because there are so few chain stores and restaurants (at least in the city proper). There are only a few Starbucks, and so many “Mom & Pop”-type restaurants, coffeehouses, and shops. It’s great, because it’s so quirky. Yesterday was drizzly and we were sitting in “JavaNet,” a nearby Internet coffee house, just people watching and reading the paper, and we could’ve sworn we were in Portland, Oregon. Same sort of offbeat, unique city; very laid-back feeling and colorful folks.
I started my job cooking at Cinque Terre this past week. They’re down two people (one recently left, and Lee, our exec chef, is in Italy), so on my first day, Jason, the restaurant’s sous chef, said, “Jen, how do you feel about sort of being thrown into things tonight?”
“Sure,” I said, thinking someone would go over things with me beforehand. As serving time quickly approached, though, I realized, to my horror, that this was going to be one of the “learn as you go” kitchens we’d heard about at school. Which is fine, except for when it comes to things like how to operate the meat slicer and other large equipment.
“Jen! We need a salumi!” (Salumi is a primi dish where three slices each of four different types of Italian cured meats are served with buffalo mozzarella and olive oil.)
“Could someone show me how to use the slicer so I don’t, uh, cut my fingers off?” I asked.
“Oh, nobody’s showed you that yet?”
No, they hadn’t. I got a lightning-fast tutorial as other primi orders piled up, and paid particular attention to sentences involving terms and warnings like “safety guard” and “be sure not to.”
Wound up working a double-shift on my first day (10 am – 11:00 pm), and at the end of the night, walking home, my feet felt positively bruised, and my back felt like someone had fastened a wrench around it and was twisting. Hectic initiation.
Earlier that day, I’d gotten a lesson on how to make pasta with their enormous (and fantastic) pasta machine. By the end of it, my brain was dizzy, because of all of the pieces and how fragile they can be on such a large machine, but now I love using it. All of the pasta is organic and made in-house, and I have so much fun making it. Especially, the loooong, almost transparently thin sheets that we make mezzalune out of (basically, ravioli in a half-moon shape stuffed with different cheese or meat fillings).
I have a pretty big bruise on the inside of my right arm from pressing down on the meat slicer safety guard, another one on my backside from jumping backward (to get out of the way of the stove in the rush of dinner service, and basically landing on the corner of a small kitchen freezer), and my thumb is all cut up from using the “buzzer” (a large, very loud gadget that basically smooths out gelato and sorbet so it’s more easily scoopable). Thom’s making jokes that the chefs are beating me in the basement’s walk-in (an enormous fridge downstairs where ingredients are stored), while the chefs say, “Looks like Thom’s keeping his woman in line at home.” I have not selected a dainty occupation.
Before service, for the first few weeks I’ll be working on pasta and desserts (everybody in the kitchen has to know how to do pasta, which I think is smart). To give an idea on sweets, here’s one of our recent dessert menus:
Vanilla Ricotta Cheesecake
Cinnamon Vanilla Crème Anglaise, Drizzled with Honey
Panna Cotta
Lemon Vanilla Panna Cotta, Espresso Chocolate Coulis
Chocolate Fondant Cake
Valrhona Dark Chocolate Sauce, Sweet Balsamic Reduction, and Toasted Pinenuts
Warm Crepes
Sweet Ricotta with Maine Blueberry Compote
House-Made Chocolate Plate for Two
Maple Chocolate Truffles, White Chocolate Coconut Haystacks, Sambuca Pignoli Chocolate, Hazelnut Chocolates and Pineapple Currant Chocolates
Cookie Plate
Vanilla Biscotti, Fennel Pollen Butter Cookie, Pistacio Anise Cannoli
House-Made Gelato
Daily Selections
House-Made Sorbet
Daily Selections
Formaggio Plate
Selections: Gorgonzola Picante, Parmigiano Reggiano, Sunset Acres Aged Goat Cheese, Pecorino Toscano, Fiore Sardo, Umbriaco, Toma, Asiago
Aside from bruises, the other drawback is that my hours are basically all over the place; I can work 8-4 one day, and then 2-close the next. Plus, at least so far, schedules change from one day to the next. I’m hoping that’s just because they’re short-staffed. It makes it really hard to plan things; for example, we saw a flyer for a concert where a couple of older gentlemen would be playing traditional Irish songs, but I couldn’t get a ticket because I had no idea whether I’d be working that day, or what the hours would be.
Schedule and bruises notwithstanding, the pros are outweighing the cons (other than me being very, very worried about health insurance). I love the pastry info I’m learning (this works out well since we did the cuisine program at Cordon Bleu and not formal pastry, and I wanted to learn more of that), we get to sample fantastic ingredients left and right (have you ever had Roccolo cheese? Try some soon, if not), and it’s really interesting (if stressful) to finally apply technique I learned at school in an insanely fast-paced setting. It’s also really useful to learn about suppliers and ordering; I got into a lengthy chat with one of the bayside fishmongers the other day when he dropped off an enormous halibut, and it was so interesting and fun to pick his brain and find out costs, etc.
I’m the only gal in the kitchen at night, but the fellows I’m working with are funny and nice (they keep apologizing when they cuss, which is sort of funny), and I love watching the back-and-forth. Very colorful.
The other day, while he was cooking, Jason hollered, “somebody get me Benny! I need Benny!” So I look around the kitchen, thinking, “Benny? I didn’t meet a Benny here, did I?,” then went to the front to try to find Benny among the servers and bartenders.
But “Benny,” I’d soon learn, to the great amusement of the fellows in the kitchen, is the smaller mandolin in the kitchen (that we use to thinly slice onions, cheeses, etc.).
Thom just asked me if I want to go to the Maine Snowmobile Show, to “check out new equipment.” I’m waiting for him to don a red flannel shirt and Elmer Fudd hat…
Hope everybody’s doing well. Feel free to let us know what’s up (hint hint).
Jen