Here is the Chowder Interlude

I was told we needed two pounds of haddock. I scanned the impressive display of fish on ice and didn’t notice the man standing to my right until I heard him ask for two pounds of haddock. The delight I felt as he voiced my yet unspoken need!

“I’m making chowder,” he explained to the fishmonger.

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I was, too.

The fishmonger was hard of hearing. The man said he was, too.

“What are we really missing, though?” he said. “Few things said are truly worth hearing.”

“You never use pollock?” I asked the chowder man.

“No,” he said. “I always use haddock. I follow my dad’s chowder recipe and I don’t stray from it. No need to.”

His conviction made me curious about what his dad’s recipe entailed.

“Well, do you make red chowder or white?” he started with, like if I answered incorrectly he’d walk away with the key to my future unrevealed, never to be known. Yet I don’t come from a family of chowder eaters, let alone makers. I only started eating fish eight years ago, heeding the advice of an acupuncturist.1 I only follow Helen’s Haddock Fish Chowder recipe because that’s what Derek uses2 and because it’s funny to be on a first-name basis with a recipe. Other than that, I have no chowder loyalty.3

“White,” I guessed, having no idea what red chowder is (and no offense but I don’t want to).

“Okay. Do you use evaporated milk?”

“No.”

“Evaporated milk is going to give you a better flavor. Now, do you use real butter?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. The one thing I do differently from my dad is I use bacon. I cut it up small and mix it in.”

The fishmonger came around the counter to hand chowder man the package of fish, not across the countertop, like they normally do. Chowder man thanked her. He could have left but there was one more thing and he wasn’t sure if he should tell me. He turned toward the aisles, swiveled his head back to face me, and left these parting words: “Nutmeg, okay? I don’t share this with many people. A pinch of nutmeg at the end makes all the difference.”

Here is the Moon

Here is Me Laughing My Way Up a Mountain

There are 450 formations named “Sugarloaf” in the world, with no less than 200 in the US and at least two in Maine. A few weeks ago, I hiked up one of them, in dear old T5 R7 WELS, an “unorganized township” near the northern end of Baxter State Park. We thought it would be a two-mile hike. It was eight. The differential was hilarious and good and made me want nachos.

A sugarloaf was the usual form in which refined sugar was produced and sold until the late 19th century, when granulated and cube sugars were introduced.

I have asked a magazine if they would like me to write about why all the Sugarloafs and what’s in a name, especially as I recently went to see My Name is Gluskabe and think about names a lot. I haven’t heard back yet.

I had put my phone on airplane mode for the day. I turned it back on to hunt for the best nachos in Millinocket or Lincoln. We ended up going to Lincoln. We were seated at the bar between a husband and a wife who didn’t mind being separated from each other. This was also hilarious and good. The wife wanted to help us. She had suggestions related to the menu. I was too tired and hungry to make decisions about beverages (I was firm on the nachos though). She had the bartender bring me a glass of water. That was nice. The “Lumberjack Nachos” did not hit the spot but I loved them anyway.

Here is the Unusual Collaborations Report

As per my email (JK), as per real-life conversations, you may know that Chris and I put on a few events a few weeks ago at/with the American Legion in Belfast: a community supper and a coffee hour.

Ashton Allen, who traveled 218 miles from Hardwick, Vermont to be with us in Belfast for the weekend said a few things that stuck with me. He talked about the importance of meeting people where they’re at and not coming in with the goal of trying to change anyone’s mind. He spoke somewhat disdainfully about the term “community building”—even as that is ostensibly a huge part of what he does in Hardwick and beyond. What he was getting at is the idea that we don’t need to build communities, we need to connect them (mostly through food and entertainment).

A huge thank you to the gracious and generous folks who offered their time, garlic, spaghetti, oregano, tomato puree, half-sheet pans with plastic lids, cookies, carrots, onions, paper cups, plates, plastic cutlery, napkins, coffee filters, to-go containers, photo documentation, oat milk, whole milk, half and half, sugar, linguine, tomato paste, daffodils, caesar salad, alfredo sauce, kale salad, herbed farm beans, stainless sauce pot, dessert pretzels, coffee, scones, air filters, bagels, doughnuts, and money.

We’re still figuring out where to go from here—maybe you are, too. A lot of powerful ideas (and listening) came from having emergency management people/”preppers” and restaurant owners/workers and daycare providers and VFW commanders and culture workers and artists and American Legion Hall commanders and artists and writers and veterans and theater people and community organizers and kids all in the same space.

Anyway, if you came to either of the events and you’d like to share any lingering thoughts, you can fill out a super chill evaluation form, send us an email at torchlightmaine@gmail.com, or just tell Chris or me next time you see us and we’ll try to document for posterity and future grant proposals.

When the Civic Standard and Hardwick Legion Hall folks got back to Vermont, it was lambing season. Tara offered Ashton the honor of naming the first lambs to be born, for the second year in a row. Welcome to the world, Yankee and Clipper! (The Yankee Clipper is the name of the Belfast motel where our Vermont guests stayed.)

Torchlight Media Open House

What is Torchlight Media?

Torchlight Media is a community-based multimedia arts and production studio in Belfast, Maine. Torchlight provides access to production tools and skills, builds long-term sustainability for local public media outlets, creates education and mentorship opportunities, and improves community connection through storytelling and events.

Why is Michele telling me about this?

I am one of the four humans currently at the core of Torchlight, which was founded by and has been tended to by Chris Battaglia (who laughs at me when I use last names).

Why should I come to this? (There will be snacks.)

Come meet the people behind Torchlight and share your hopes for how this new community media organization can meet the needs of our communities. Tour Torchlight’s space, check out recent and upcoming projects, enjoy refreshments and pop-up photography/storytelling activities, and meet students from Torchlight's pilot mentoring program and community members. Free and open to the public.

New Work in the World

What Will Become of an Orrington Connoisseur’s Sprawling Formalwear Collection?

Since 2017, the fate of Linda Mitchell-Storer's tens of thousands of items — ranging from Civil-War-era frocks to set jackets owned by Gilda Radner and Cher — has remained in question.

I mentioned this story in a previous Substack but it hadn’t been published online yet. Here’s the link.

And because it was Cara Oleksyk who first told me about Linda and her vintage collection, here’s Cara’s vintage shop in downtown Bangor, Red Rabbit Bazaar. They just moved to a first-floor location at 54 Columbia Street. If you read the story linked above, you’ll learn that Linda has been consigning some of her clothes through Red Rabbit. Cara has impeccable taste and is committing to “reducing the waste stream, one outfit at a time.” Red Rabbit also hosts community events (stitch-n-bitch, jewelry repair workshops, clothing swaps, etc.). Check them out!

General Maintenance

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Currents

The Arc of Oblivion

I saw The Arc of Oblivion on a recent Sunday afternoon at the Alamo Theatre in Bucksport. Their credit card machine was down. I assumed it was the storm’s fault but it wasn’t. (“We’re connected to the fire station. We don’t lose power,” they said.) They let me in for free as long as I promised to go to the ATM next door after the movie, which I did. Film archives, tree rings as archives, a guest appearance by Kirsten Johnson (who made Dick Johnson is Dead), Werner Herzog, I’m tired, here’s the official language for the film, which you should go see (screening list here).

Set against the backdrop of the filmmaker’s quixotic quest to build an ark in a field in Maine, the film heads far afield — to salt mines in the Alps, fjords in the Arctic, and ancient libraries in the Sahara — to illuminate the strange world of archives, record-keeping, and memory.

Origin

Ava Duvernay’s Origin is currently playing at the Colonial Theatre in Belfast (at the time of this writing it looks like Thursday is the last night to see it). Not only is this film supposed to be incredible, but there’s also a fascinating backstory as to why it hasn’t gotten more critical acclaim, which Duvernay speaks to here. I haven’t seen the film yet, am grateful the Colonial is playing it, and hope you go (and if you go see it or have already seen it, let’s talk about it).

What Class Are You?

Erica Heilman4 recently released a series of podcasts where she asks people in rural northern Vermont what class they are. It’s phenomenal. (And Ashton, mentioned above is featured in one of the episodes talking about community suppers and class.)

Take Care

Can someone please tell me what happens when you press the button below? (I don’t think it will eject you but it’s a new Substack feature so no promises.)