Travel

I was 'off to see the queen,' the stewardess lingo we use when working a London trip. I packed my tall boots, a few jackets and scarves. I was invited to join a friend from London for dinner with a small group at the famous old oyster bar "J Sheekey." I was, for once, concerned about what I would wear as my friend, Tim is a famous London tailor with a shop on Savile Row as well as shops all over the world. He dresses David Beckam and Tom Cruise and I certainly did not want to embarrass myself with some sort of 'get up' from my usual suitcase wardrobe.

As I was getting out of the shower that evening, I heard the fire alarms going off. Too many times I have called downstairs or left my room, only to discover that it was a false alarm. But I was having visions of Mumbai and quickly threw on the pajamas I had laying on the sink, grabbed my purse, put on my coat and ventured into the hallway. There was a little old Japanese man passing by my door and he sort of put it all in perspective in his heavy Japanese accent, "When in doubt, it is best to get out." I followed his lead and joined a group descending down the stairwell. When we got to the first floor, a security guard directed us down a long hallway that lead to the garage.

Stuffed with dates, bloated with tea, and in the midst of a pitched battle about Israel’s right to exist, I blurted: "Look, I can’t have the discussion about the Canaanites, again!" (To wit: who was stomping around the Holy Land first, 3,500 years ago!) "Tell me the name of the great fish restaurant around here, Al, something you mentioned it earlier?"

It was New Year’s Eve – the Western one. Saudi Arabia uses the Hijra calendar, which is 11 days shorter than the Gregorian, in case you want to book ahead for next year. I had come to research a Hilary Mantel novel I’m adapting for a film. I was in Jeddah, on the Red Sea. There are two Saudi Arabias. The liberal progressive folks in Jeddah, and cities along the coast, known as the The Hijaz, who summer in Europe and Beruit, read the New York Times on line, whose kids go to schools abroad, decry the religious conservatives, and those in Riyadh, the capital, in the middle of the country and the Eastern Provinces. Blue states, red states.

Charlie Clevenger

May in Maine and the lobsters are crooning. Leaves sprout on the trees around midmonth but you can’t plant your garden until Memorial Day because lingering nighttime frosts are always a threat to wipe it out. The real sign winter’s finally over: In New Harbor, Shaw’s Lobster Wharf opened on Mother’s Day to serve the world’s best lobster roll and a few miles up Route 32 in Round Pond, the Muscongus Bay Lobster Company fired up its boiler; you can sit at a picnic table and devour your crustaceans as you gaze out at the view of water, boats, islands and trees so stunning that it is where superannuated picture calendars go die.

Muscongus Bay Lobster was a tiny affair when we started going 20 years ago, a half dozen tables and a small cook shack. Dan Renny’s family ran it but about 10 years ago (he’s in his 30s now, as hard working a guy as you’ll ever meet and handsome as the devil) he took it over and has managed growth without sacrificing the rustic charm. The wharf has been enlarged, more tables added to handle the crowds, a bigger cooking shed. The big news this year is that he’s put light bulbs in the port-a-potties.

It's not a common occurrence for me to be hit with something that rocks the fabric of my gastronomical universe so unbelievably hard that I'm forced to reassess all that I believed to know about food and my own taste buds.  Quietly hiding in the heart of Ohio, I had come upon what I can only call a culinary A-bomb, and it came in the form of a deceivingly plain post dinner pie. Encased by a simple crust, peaches purchased from Amish neighbors lay nestled in gooey fruitiness, cold vanilla seeping in from the sides. It looked harmless enough.

The first bite stops time. Holy smokes! Where has this been all my life? Had I really been eating pie before? As I continued to devour bite after bite I realized the entire goodness of this pie lay in the fact that the peaches, perhaps the best I'd ever had, were fresh, locally grown and home baked.  I was beginning to question the origins of everything I've eaten before. Where had it been coming from and why hadn't I ever tasted ingredients that were this good?