My Colombian husband makes the most delicious matzo ball soup. No frozen latkes for us! We make them from scratch, and after frying them up our house always smells like latkes for at least a week. Every year we light three different menorahs that each have sentimental value: the first one I ever bought, the one we got for our wedding, and, lastly, an aluminum foil one crafted by our young son Ben. When Chanukah and Christmas fall together it is truly the “festival of lights” in our home.
—Meryl Hernandez, North Yarmouth

I grew up in a Chinese immigrant family along the beautiful and rugged coast of Maine. My favorite holiday tradition combines the quintessentially American Thanksgiving with Asian flavors and fresh Maine ingredients. Instead of feasting on a typical roast turkey, my family opts for a Maine lobster dinner prepared Cantonese style, with lots of ginger, garlic, and scallions. Our side dishes feature not only the traditional cranberry sauce and buttery mashed potatoes but also spicy mapo tofu, cooked with dried chilis from our garden, and Sichuan yuxiang eggplant. For dessert, I usually bake a decadent blueberry pie featuring frozen blueberries handpicked from our backyard bushes, which were planted not too long after my family planted our own roots in Maine. Every Thanksgiving, I’m reminded of how blessed and grateful I am to call Maine home, a place that adopted my immigrant family with open arms and shared with us not only its freshest bounties from the land and the sea but also the opportunity to learn, grow, and thrive.
—Er Li Peng, South Portland

After Thanksgiving, my Christmas baking begins. Over the years I have added or subtracted what I bake, honing in on the family favorites. Tucked in my recipe book I have lists dating back to 1992. My baking starts with the simplest recipes first, since giving the feeling of progress is important during such a busy season. First up, two spiced loaves, which fill the house with the delicious smell of Christmas. Next is fudge, known now as “fudge cubes” by my grandson. Norwegian Christmas breads are next on the list. Then the cookie baking starts: peppernuts, spritz, Scandinavian almond bars, Swedish gingersnaps, sand cakes, plus banana nut muffins and sweet rolls. I raised four sons, and part of the tradition is that we don’t eat any cookies until they are all finished, the exception being the Swedish gingersnaps. I always made enough dough for the kids to make their own cookies either with cookie cutters or freeform. The dough is very kid friendly. My sons are grown, and now I make enough dough for my grandkids, who live next door. The tradition of waiting to consume is twofold; you have cookies to enjoy throughout the holidays and enough to give to friends. It also builds the anticipation and makes that first cookie platter very special. One Christmas, I made each of my sons bound notebooks with handwritten recipes of our favorite treats with plenty of room left for their own family traditions.
—Brenda Melhus, Norway

My family has always been a family of faith. Every year, as far back as I can remember, in honor of the true Christmas meaning, my family has always had a birthday cake for Jesus. We have our tree, we open our presents, but our favorite part of Christmas morning is celebrating the best Christmas gift of all! We sing “Happy Birthday” to Christ, and we have a slice of cake for breakfast, usually with a glass of light eggnog!
—Christal Levier, Westbrook

Read More:

• 
  From Our Readers | Love Letters to Maine
• 
  From Our Readers | Love Letters to Mainers
• 
  From Our Readers | Love Letters to Live Music
• 
  Love Letters To Maine | Emily Isaacson

The post From Our Readers | Love Letters to Maine appeared first on The Maine Mag.

Maria Millard Povec is a mother, wife, friend, public servant, soccer player, lover of the Maine outdoors, active community member, and neighbor. Professionally, Maria serves as a senior policy analyst with the Maine Governor’s Office of Policy Innovation and the Future. She works on initiatives that will grow and diversify Maine’s economy, attract innovators and young families, and make Maine a better place to live for all residents. Personally, Maria is warm, funny, generous, and thoughtful. When my family and I moved to Belfast from Brooklyn, New York, Maria helped us make local networking connections, dropped off cherry tomatoes and dahlias from her garden, and invited us for beers at Marshall Wharf Brewing Company. And not just once—she continues doing these things. Neighborliness and community building are a way of life for her. She organized a meal train for my family after the recent birth of our second child and cracked the whip during the first week when participants were slow to sign up. Well, the meals soon started arriving on our doorstep. Maria has the energy, focus, and infectious enthusiasm of someone who gets things done and does them with joy. I’m nominating her for Mainer of the Year because it’s people like her who contribute to the high quality of life we Mainers enjoy and who have a vision for a healthy, sustainable, innovative Maine future.
—Nicole Cloutier, Belfast

My love letter is to Marcel Caron of Auburn. Marcel, where do I start to tell you how much I admire and love you? During a life battle with cancer, brain surgery, reconstruction shoulder surgery, and chemotherapy, you were there to help me settle me into a new apartment. You supported me through a leg injury and healing from a cardiac incident, texting every day to check that I am okay or if I need anything. You planted a beautiful flower garden (even though the squirrels ate all the flowers) for me to feel at home and special. You have made me laugh and given me hope and courage thorough it all, all the time fighting your personal war on cancer. You are a true miracle, cancer in remission, back to working a full-time and a part-time job, and finding time to make sure this elderly lady does not feel forgotten and to know she is loved. I am truly blessed by you in my life. You are my hero, and I will love you forever and ever, amen.
—Vicki D. Wright, Auburn

I am nominating Elizabeth McLellan, president and f ounder of Partners for World Health (PWH). Since 2009, when she founded PWH, Elizabeth has built an organization that works to improve the environment, reduce healthcare costs, increase healthcare access, and has created a network of over 120 partners through the U.S. and the developing world to provide low or no cost medical equipment and supplies. She leads PWH by example, taking no salary, and has created an organization where 98 percent of the work is carried out by volunteers ranging in age from teens to retirees. Since 2009 PWH has collected millions of pounds of discarded and surplus medical equipment and supplies that were headed for the landfills of New England. Through passion, diligence, passion, and ingenuity PWH routinely sends 22,000 pounds of reclaimed, restored, and rescued materials to hospitals and clinics in the developing world once, twice, and sometimes three times a month in 40-foot-long shipping containers. Over the years, dozens of hospitals in the developing world have benefited from this simple and profound idea that we should share the abundance and help one another out. In addition to this work, Elizabeth has also created medical missions that take volunteer surgeons, doctors, nurse practitioners, nurses, social workers, and medical students to those countries to train and educate healthcare workers on best practices in healthcare. A native of Camden, Maine, I can think of no better person to honor.
—Paul Golding, Portland

To Ingrid Stanchfield, CEO of the Boys and Girls Club of Kennebec Valley. Ingrid is the founder of the Boys and Girls Club in Gardiner and has worked tirelessly over the past 25 years to provide a safe, secure place for children from infants through teens. This year has been especially difficult with COVID-19 still running its course, schools holding classes only part-time, and the challenges of finding and keeping quality employees during the pandemic. On top of all the challenges to keep the club open as much as possible, Ingrid has also been actively raising money to build a new building to house the Boys and Girls Club in the near future. She and the board of directors have nearly met their goal of $10.5 million. The building process was started in the spring with a tentative completion date of fall 2022. Ingrid and I have been married for 40 years, and I’m very proud of her accomplishments. She came from a small town in southern Aroostook County and moved to the Gardiner area in 1989. She was hired as a summer recreation coordinator for the city of Gardiner and started her mission with an L.L.Bean canvas bag with half a dozen playground balls. She progressed from that to owning a building and serving hundreds of children with childcare, sports programs, and before- and after-school programs. Ingrid is my hero and a hero and champion for children in the greater Gardiner area.
—Kerry Stanchfield, Gardiner

For a chance to be featured in our November/December issue or online, Click Here to submit a love letter of no more than 250 words about your favorite holiday tradition.

Read more Love Letters:

• 
  From Our Readers | Love Letters to Maine
• 
  From Our Readers | Love Letters to Mainers
• 
  From Our Readers | Love Letters to Live Music
• 
  Love Letters To Maine | Emily Isaacson

The post From Our Readers | Love Letters to Mainers appeared first on The Maine Mag.

Attending the University of Maine in the mid-1990s, I got my first taste of small-venue live music and fell in love with all of it: the pounding speakers, the blurred fingers of a guitarist ten feet away, the high-fiving of musicians after a great set. With few exceptions, I’ll take that over 50 rows back at a stadium show of a big-name band any day.

The band most responsible for that love is Maine’s Rustic Overtones. They were rock enough to tap into my classic rock roots. They were ska enough to move my tastes in new directions. They were my age. They were full of energy. They flat-out rocked. I always come back to those horns.

Graduating into adulthood has a way of reprioritizing one’s life. Lively crowds were replaced by dirty diapers and paying the mortgage. For me, life’s surprises included a divorce and finding myself part of a new family with teenage stepdaughters. For about ten years, I felt far away from that powerful baritone sax, the smooth slide trombone, the hard-driving rhythms, and the powerful voice of Dave Gutter.

A flyer for a small fundraiser at a local middle school caught my eye. I nervously asked my wife and the girls if they would be up for seeing a band I used to love. Musical tastes of teens were vastly different in 2007, but they were up for it, and a great time was had! Since then, we’ve made a point to get to more shows, like an impromptu trip to an outdoor show in Waterville, a fundraiser in a barn at Freeport’s Wolfe’s Neck Center, and a phenomenal orchestral set at the fabled Stone Mountain Arts Center in Brownfield.

The Rustic Overtones have been making original rock right here in Maine for more than 25 years. They were part of my introduction to live music in the 1990s. They reached ears with radio hits when I was distracted by adult life. We grew up separately, celebrating the high points in life and mourning the sad ones (including the tragic unexpected passing of trombonist extraordinaire Dave Noyes in 2019).

Now that the scary grip of COVID-19 is loosening, my wife and I look forward to catching a show (outside for now). Maybe I will be forgiven for thinking that Dave Gutter and the band are my own personal soundtrack. That said, I am happy to share with a couple hundred other screaming fans those gravelly belted lyrics, Jon’s funky driving bass (shh…my wife has a crush on him!), and, of course, those horns!

—Dave Gagne, Freeport

Back in June 2019, my wife and I snuck in a special night in Portland away from our usual Boothbay visit. With our three-year-old back at the house with his grandparents, we spent dinner at Fore Street and then had a perfect night under the fog at Thompson’s Point, watching, listening to, and experiencing our favorite band, the National. Hours prior, under a heavy afternoon rain, we had run into three out of five of the bandmates picking up foul weather gear at Portland Dry Goods. It’s been our favorite night in our favorite state.

—Danny S., Virginia Beach, VA

My Love Letter to the State Theatre, You’re like home for me. From the moment I get near you to the moment I leave, I know I’m where I need to be.

In my nearly 30 years of Maine residency, I’ve lost track of how many times I was fortunate enough to have been within your walls, entranced by your history, fixated on your sounds, and captivated by the energy you create, but I can assure you that, if I pause to reflect, I find myself wholly infatuated with each one.

How could I possibly forget that I once got pennies thrown at me by a Jimmie’s Chicken Shack sound tech during the Jimmie’s Chicken Shack/311 show? (Turns out he did it to get my attention, and then we talked about how we liked each other’s glasses.) And that time it wastheSilversunPickups’NikkiMonninger’s birthday and the entire audience sang “Happy Birthday” to her as her band members brought out a cake with candles that they feared would set off a smoke alarm. No one else has given me what you can. I’m beyond grateful.

Before the pandemic, I worked in downtown Portland off Free Street, and almost daily I would stroll past your iconic marquee and look up and smile. So many nights have brought me to you, and I genuinely cannot wait to come back home.

—Amanda Taisey, Portland

For those of us who have built our careers around you, we have felt a massive void in the last year and a half of our lives. We are both happy and hesitant, for fear of another heartbreak, to see you are back. We rush to buy tickets before they sell out and question if we should buy the additional pandemic insurance on the Ticketmaster platform. It’ll all be worth it for that beautiful moment, staring up at the stage when the drums start to beat and the crowd starts to cheer. It’s live music, baby.

I am one of the lucky few who makes a living in the music industry and even luckier still that I get to do what I do while living in the beautiful state of Maine. For my full-time gig I am a booking agent for national touring musicians, and I also perform live, as a side gig, for special events and weddings across the state. What once kept me busy for 80-plus hours a week has been virtually impossible since the pandemic shutdown. I stopped keeping track after rescheduling hundreds of shows for my clients and haven’t set foot on a stage to perform since closing out the wedding season in 2019.

Live music, I’m overjoyed to see you back but am worried you’ll break my heart again. Let’s keep people safe and keep the music alive.

—Rachel Doe, Portland

Read more love letters:

• 
  From Our Readers | Love Letters to Maine
• 
  From Our Readers | Love Letters to Mainers
• 
  From Our Readers | Love Letters to Live Music
• 
  Love Letters To Maine | Emily Isaacson

The post From Our Readers | Love Letters to Live Music appeared first on The Maine Mag.

Dear Live Music,

I’ve missed you! I have been filling your void with Spotify and the radio, but it’s just not the same. It’s like eating at McDonald’s when what I really want is Fore Street—it fills me up, but it doesn’t nourish me.

You see, you make me feel alive. With you, I am not just listening, I’m experiencing. If it’s a single musician, their sweat and furrowed brow remind me of the years of practice, dedication, and sacrifice that they bring to this moment. If it’s an ensemble, I am in awe that the unified focus and collective energy of 30, 50, 150 people are all for my ears.

For our ears, because, unlike watching YouTube, live music is a communal act. A room of 50 or maybe 5,000 people are entranced, simultaneously, so that you could hear a pin drop at Merrill Auditorium, or energized so synchronistically that the floor in the State Theatre shakes. And then there’s the moment when the music ends and you can’t hold back your enthusiasm any longer and burst into wild applause, and it turns out your neighbor feels the same way! The room is electric with hundreds of people on their feet.

You do that, live performance. I never clap to MP3s.

To be fair, you are very demanding. You require me to engage—not just to turn on and listen but to go somewhere, to make a choice, to commit to this moment. I can’t prepare dinner or check my email when I’m with you; you demand my attention—body, mind, and soul. It is exhausting, but so reinvigorating. And in this bubble of a moment that you created, I look around and see my community and realize that this is not my experience; this is our experience. We are dancing to Lake Street Dive at Thompson’s Point. We are applauding the Portland Symphony Orchestra at Eastern Prom. We are feeling the same powerful vibrations, and despite our anonymity, we will share a memory. And this reminds me that this experience is so specific, so totally here and now, and yet transcendent; that other people across the country, world, and even generations have heard these sounds and felt these emotions.

Live performance, I love you because you feed my soul by bringing us together and reminding us of the endless capacity found in the human spirit.

With gratitude,

Isaacson is the founder and artistic director of Classical Uprising, the performing arts organization that puts on the Portland Bach Experience.

Read more love letters:

• 
  From Our Readers | Love Letters to Maine
• 
  From Our Readers | Love Letters to Mainers
• 
  From Our Readers | Love Letters to Live Music
• 
  Love Letters To Maine | Emily Isaacson

The post Love Letters To Maine | Emily Isaacson appeared first on The Maine Mag.

Contribute to Maine magazine! For our November/December issue we are collecting love letters written about your favorite holiday tradition. Fill out the form below to send us your love letter by September 24 for a chance to be featured in print and online!

The post Send Us Your Love Letter appeared first on The Maine Mag.

Dear Maine,

Of your many endearing qualities, what I love most is your long tradition of agricultural fairs. My favorite, the Common Ground Country Fair, is at its core a harvest celebration. The fair, hosted by the Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners Association in Unity each September, showcases all that you have to offer: a diversity of delicious food and natural resources, yes, but also a creative community committed to stewarding your fields, forests, and waterways for future generations. A day at the fair is like a tour of your landscape by the people who know you most intimately. In a single afternoon, I can be transported to your blueberry barrens as I sip on wild-harvested blueberry tea, then be whisked away to your field edges for a native plant walk before purchasing maple syrup from a person who cares for your woods and taps your trees.

During three full days, thousands of individuals and volunteers come together to offer hundreds of exhibitions, workshops, and demonstrations celebrating rural living, from bean-hole baked beans to border collies expertly herding sheep. Not only are these skills and traditions key parts of who they are, but they’re also significant to your vibrant, land-based culture.

Being involved in agriculture is about doing something bigger than ourselves, something that we couldn’t do alone. The Common Ground Country Fair is a reminder of that—and of what’s possible. I’m inspired by the organic farmers and the bounty of produce they harvest and the food vendors, who transform farm-fresh ingredients into their own versions of quintessential fair food. No deep-fried Oreos here; instead, fairgoers anticipate crispy shiitake mushrooms (cultivated on logs from your woods) and tofu fries (from soybeans grown in your fields), and fish tacos (which serve up the catch from your coastlines).

I’m inspired by the people who flock to the fair annually to gather, connect, and take part. They behold the vegetable diversity on display at the Exhibition Hall. They bring their kids to the fair to dress up as bumblebees and butterflies in the Garden Parade, and, before you know it, those kids have grown and are bringing their own children to the fair, to celebrate you, in all your abundance.

Boucher is the Common Ground Country Fair director for the Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners Association.

Read more love letters:

• 
  From Our Readers | Love Letters to Maine
• 
  From Our Readers | Love Letters to Mainers
• 
  From Our Readers | Love Letters to Live Music
• 
  Love Letters To Maine | Emily Isaacson

The post Love Letters To Maine | April Boucher appeared first on The Maine Mag.

As one of the founding families of Windham, my late parents had about 200 acres of land adjoining Sebago Lake Basin that had been farmed for many years. In 1957, when I was seven years old, my father and a friend created a tenting area to accommodate the growing number of campers coming to Maine. There were seven of us kids who helped to clear lots in the woods where roads were built, including one leading down to the shore where we made a parking lot for families to use while swimming and boating.

We started small but added more lots each year as demand grew. When more and more campers came with trailers, we added electrical and water hookups. My older sister and I helped Mom with the signing in of campers and tended the small camp store. When Dad built a big A-frame behind the office, it became a “rec” building, with Ping-Pong tables and sports equipment. It was our responsibility to sweep the A-frame each morning. Afternoons, however, were for swimming! We rode our bikes down to the water and spent hours there. Evenings we often had a fire in the “rec hall” with folks gathered around—and the occasional guitar. The campground was a great place to meet other teenagers; we would organize hayrides and set up impromptu dances by the jukebox. One of the most popular events was when a Native American couple presented a program about their history in the area and related stories of “the old days.”

This was back when North Windham was still rural and not the commercial hub that it has now become. We closed the campground in 1987, after 30 years of operation, when insurance regulations became too onerous. Commercial plazas now stand where our campsites once were.

—Elaine (Manchester) Herlan, Rochester, New York

On a tiny island a few miles off the coast of St. George, we tied up our dinghy to a tree and pitched our tiny two-person tent on the rocky shoreline. With only one campsite on the island, we were lucky enough to have it all to ourselves. As the sun set into the most glorious golden hue, and after nearly ten years of dating, he got down on one knee and asked me the question I had been waiting for. Just the two of us with a bottle of champagne, two glasses to cheers, a tent with the fly off to stargaze all night, a fire to keep us warm, and the rest of forever to be filled with adventure. I couldn’t have dreamt up a better camping experience if I tried.

—Taylor Watts, Freeport

When my husband died, I had no idea how I was going to continue to raise our three daughters, but I knew I had to take them to Maine. Loading up my two-, five-, and eight-year-old in the car and making the nine-hour drive that first year was a leap of faith, but it became a vital part of our healing and growth as a family. By our second summer in Brunswick, I was gaining confidence in the day-to-day realities of single motherhood, but I realized I had never taken my girls camping alone. I felt adamant that I did not want the upbringing I had imagined for them to be compromised by our situation, so after a trip to Renys and a call to Wolfe’s Neck Farm, I had a tent and a reservation.

We had a gorgeous site on the coast and a perfect Maine summer night, but I was nervous as I set up the tent and got a campfire going, as there was no script on “going camping alone with three kids.” I don’t remember what we ate, and I’m sure I didn’t sleep much, but when we woke up to the sounds of the waves and the farm I felt more confident. I had done it. We had done it. That was our first camping trip as a family of four, and it shifted my perspective about the possibilities for my family.

—Stacie Galiger

Dear Warren Island State Park,

We would be lying if we said you were the first. In fact, it took 11 others before we fell into your loving arms. You were the 12th Maine state park our little family had camped at in four years. There is a total of 12, but we saved you for last. Why? It wasn’t because of a lack of attraction; we were just shy of the thought of camping on an island with a three-year-old and a one-year-old.

Yes, it was true that there wasn’t anyone left at the party that we hadn’t dated yet. To be honest we had danced with multiple parks a couple times before this leap of faith. From the second we dropped our bags at site number five, though, it was hard to remember those last 15-plus camping trips with the kids. Even though you only charged us $42.70, your ocean-front home made us feel like millionaires for three days.

No amount of money could have made our family feel more special than you did during this summer pandemic getaway. The trip is somehow always talked about like we just got back on Sunday. Our experience is burned into each memory, and the stories are not aging. No matter how rich you are, the one thing you can’t buy is time. For a weekend, you froze it, you made us not only see all your beauty, but more importantly, we saw each other.

—The Rubys, Portland

The post From Our Readers | Love Letters to Camping appeared first on The Maine Mag.

Dear Maine,

You lured me in with a kayak. The promise of after-work sunset paddles, summer outings on lakes, and island hopping was a vision hatched in my city apartment that you brought to life.

To be honest, life with you sounded too good to be true. I feared I was setting impossible expectations. But if there were surprises, it was that you were more beautiful and welcoming than I could have imagined.

It’s hard to remember a more perfect morning than when I woke up at sunrise to paddle to Jewell Island to get first pick at a campsite, seals and monarch butterflies following my kayak as I looked out at a soft blue sea that blended into the light sky.

I’ve never had a better evening view than when I hiked ten miles through the Nahmakanta Public Reserved Land, pitching my tent by a rocky outcropping overlooking a long lake and the majestic face of Katahdin.

And yet it was this past year that sealed my love for you. When there was so much uncertainty and grief, you provided a breath of fresh air and gave me something to look forward to week after week. There were the many hikes, impromptu backyard bonfires with friends, and bike rides along the coast. There were the weekly ocean dips, even in the winter when swimming resembled more of a frantic plunge.

Throughout it all, you have provided an opportunity for continual growth and gratitude. No matter what the world throws at us, you remind me that joy and purpose can be found in the simple moments we spend outside.

You are a gem, Maine. I hope you keep luring in others as you did with me.

Kordick is the executive director of Maine Outdoors Brands.

The post Love Letters to Maine | Jenny Kordick appeared first on The Maine Mag.

During this dark, gloomy, stay-home and stay-safe season, the Black Harpoon has maintained a law-abiding safe space for all the long shots and tall-tale tellers who inhabit the St. George peninsula. The owner, Emily Gaudio, has kept the place open four evenings a week as a community service rather than as a business. And her all-lady staff of bartenders and waitresses have maintained their customary nondiscriminatory, equal-opportunity stance of not taking any guff off of lobstermen, fisherman, or landlubber malcontents such as myself.

While all the good cheer emanating from the place is noteworthy, a mention of the food is in order. The corned beef and cabbage served up on St. Patrick’s Day was the best this humble observer ever tasted. So, as happier times slowly return, make yourself even happier with a visit to this remarkable institution!

—Stephen Jonassen, Tenants Harbor

Working at El El Frijoles is hard, under any circumstances. It’s hot in the summer, and cold in the winter. We insist on doing things the hard way here. Everything’s made from scratch, so there is lots of arduous prep in the mornings, and making and serving our menu is a real challenge, especially during a busy summer season when we are feeding literally hundreds of people a day from this 9-by-22 kitchen in an old barn. The line is always stretching out, 20 or 30 people deep, into the parking lot. It’s humid, the fans are loud, we listen to questionable music, the phone always rings and rings . . . Both of us, the owners, are always here. The others have to listen to us as we parent, strategize, organize, bicker, fight, and sob.

But in a pandemic? Everything changes. We adapt, we shift, we roll with it. We’ve had to change nearly every aspect of our business to stay safe, to stay open, to feed the people in our community who are hungry for our food. All of a sudden, we can’t even let our customers into the taqueria at all! Overnight, we are taking phone orders exclusively, instead of not at all. Everything has to be packed to-go, and every interaction is taking place either on the phone or through the hole we cut into our front door. The entire concept of our business has been turned inside out, but still the customers keep coming, and the staff keeps cooking.

We started with the masks right away, in March, before it was even a thing. We moved to wiping everything with sanitizer, wearing gloves all the time for every task, built canopies, posted signs, organized lines for orders and pick-ups, wiped down credit cards.

But these guys took it all in stride. They adapted. They learned. They worked all summer in a 90-degree-plus kitchen with a mask on, gloved up. They stayed home, away from their friends, kept to their “pods.” They prepped and cooked and assembled and packed and rang up and served our food to a whole new wave of customers. The converts, the COVID refugees, the Summer People here in April, our neighbors, plus all of our dedicated regulars. It turned out to be our busiest year ever. We somehow managed growth, in a pandemic.

And now, here at the end of the second winter in COVID times, we are still here. Our staff (all of them!) are coming back to join us for yet another summer. Because of them we are still in business, still feeding our neighbors. Because of them, this May we’ll be making food for the people for our 15th summer, from this little barn, in the woods, in this little village on the coast of Maine.

—Michael Rossney, Sargentville

We summer on Orr’s Island. When we returned late in last year’s pandemic season, the Salt Cod Cafe was already open. For locals and visitors alike, it’s our go-to place for al fresco breakfast overlooking Harpswell Sound and the iconic Cribstone Bridge. I once heard a British couple say that the blueberry scones were the best they’d ever had. The owner walks them over, across her lawn, fresh from her oven. Even more special to us is the unfailing kindness and optimism of the staff. Hoping that summer 2021 will be easier on all.

—Mary C. Reese, Orr’s Island

A letter to Meg Joseph, the chef at the Black Harpoon in Port Clyde. While so many restaurants have remained closed or with limited hours during the pandemic, Emily Gaudio, the owner of the restaurant, has done her best to provide food to the people in the area. Meg, you are one of the most talented chefs. You certainly could have gone on to larger restaurants in more populated areas, but you stayed here in Port Clyde. You make everything from scratch. All of your deserts, dressings, breads, sauces, and ice cream are made by you. You continue to create new recipes every week, and we have enjoyed them all. Your creativity in the special dinners we have enjoyed doesn’t happen in many places. I have been able to test foods from so many countries without leaving the peninsula. Thank you for continuing to challenge our palates. We sure are lucky to have your talent so accessible to us.

—Barbara Sorg, Tenants Harbor

The post From Our Readers | Love Letters to Restaurant Workers appeared first on The Maine Mag.

Dear Maine,

With your thousands of miles of coastline, it isn’t hard to come across a fishing community. Commercial fishing is a part of your history. More often than not, fishing is passed down from one generation to another. These people are some of the hardest workers and bravest people I have been lucky enough to know. They head out into the Atlantic in their boats, leaving family and loved ones onshore and risking everything to share with the world one of your most adored treasures: your seafood.

I am the proud daughter of a commercial fisherman. My entire life I never thought twice about what that actually entailed. This was just our way of life. I would ask my dad countless questions, and his knowledge of the ocean would astonish me. He would tell me stories of his days fishing in the Bering Sea, and as a child I grew to view him as a “super fisherman,” as if what he did was comparable to a superhero. I never let that feeling go. I have always been in awe of what he did, and I deeply regret never telling him how proud I am of what he did. My dad is proof of the risk these people take.

These brave individuals are strong. They are an incredible breed capable of adapting to an ever-changing industry—an industry that constantly faces many challenges. They are well educated on the fragile ecosystems and know when and where to cast their nets. They know the delicate balance of life and have an unparalleled respect for the ocean. The sustainability of this industry for future generations is a topic near and dear to their hearts, and they will stand up for themselves. They have taught me how to persevere.

Hayley Brown lives in Kennebunk. Her father, Joe Nickerson, and his crew member, Chris Pinkham, died in January 2020 when his fishing boat sank 45 miles out to sea off Portland.

The post Love Letters to Maine | Hayley Brown appeared first on The Maine Mag.