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Franny’s will be hosting coffee tastings every Friday this month at 10am, so just show up and surrender yourself to an excellent education in the complex art of coffee cupping. Counter Culture uses your comments, in addition to the opinions of those attending simultaneous cuppings throughout the east coast, to complete the feedback loop with coffee growers in developing Africa and their roaster here in the U.S. It also doesn’t hurt to let Franny herself know exactly what you think about coffee she may very well purchase.

Arena Bagels and Bialys has officially changed its name to… well, something else. I live directly above the shop, the sign for which immediately sent shivers through the neighborhood, spawning the great Brooklyn tea party… , no it didn’t.

Anyway, for something that hasn’t quite gotten approved, the selection of the word “Arena” was certainly a fatalistic choice. I applaud those who chose to organize and use this opportunity to make a statement about the Atlantic yards project, another friendly reminder that the arena and its mega-footprint is NOT A DONE DEAL.

From a Brooklyn Paper article about the bagel breakdown:

“Barring a victory in court, the opponents’ main strategy right now is to block anything that gives even the appearance that Atlantic Yards is inevitable.”

NOT A DONE DEAL!

Thanks, Louie for gouging the community on Summer’s greatest pleasure.

Scientific reductionism is an undeniably powerful tool, but it can mislead us too, especially when applied to something as complex as, on the one side, a food, and on the other, a human eater. It encourages us to take a mechanistic view of that transaction: put in this nutrient; get out that physiological result. Yet people differ in important ways. Some populations can metabolize sugars better than others; depending on your evolutionary heritage, you may or may not be able to digest the lactose in milk. The specific ecology of your intestines helps determine how efficiently you digest what you eat, so that the same input of 100 calories may yield more or less energy depending on the proportion of Firmicutes and Bacteroidetes living in your gut. There is nothing very machinelike about the human eater, and so to think of food as simply fuel is wrong.

With Naples behind us we hopped on Rt.1 and made our way to Red’s Eats in Wiscasset. Ever since we saw the Best Sandwiches in America segement on the Food Channel we have been absolutely obsessed with sampling what was reported to be the best lobster roll in the country. Well, they were right. We are talking at least one whole lobster’s worth of meat dumped into a toasted bun with a small cup of melted butter on the side. The meat is cold, but the warm melted butter poured on top brought it all together. And at 13 bucks, which may be hard to believe, was a steal compared to other lobster deals we got in the state during what was currently high season. We also sampled a half-pint of fried clams, which were also the best we have ever tasted (sounds like we don’t get out much). The perfectly fried batter was so light it never distracted you from the sweet clam inside. If you are on your way through Wiscasset (which you are certain to do if you are travelling up the Maine Coast on Rt.1) make a stop at the little red shack on the left hand side of the road and don’t be distracted by the line, which can run up to half a block. Also, in Wiscasset, down by the yacht club and with a great view of a, you got it, Nuclear Power Plant, there is White’s Island. A local recently purchased the Island and turned it into a wonderful little park completely surrounded by water. Here, you can just let the long drive roll off of you while you contempaltively sit in one of the numerous patio chairs he leaves out for anyone interested.

After throwing down the lobster roll, we headed north. It was getting late in the day and we knew that we were pressing our luck by not having a reservation so late in the season. This didn’t faze us too much since we don’t like to overplan and don’t want to be where everyone else is anyway. This inner drive brought us past Pemaquid State Park to Friendship, a small, picturesque, lobsterman town that seemed to quite enjoy not being a major destination. Unfortunately, the only Bed and Breakfast in town was fully booked (there was a wooden boat festival, of course, this weekend) and we could find no shelter there. The fine proprietor did however direct us down the road to Waldoboro. Thankfully, Blue Sky Farm, located on 100 acres of Maine woodlands and run by a pleasant British woman named Jan, took us in and we were free to relax for the remainder of the day.

Seeing how the clock dictated that it was suppertime, we ventured into downtown Waldoboro, a place truly off the map. There, we found one restaurant, the Pine Cone, amidst four or five shops that defined the center of town. At this point in the game, my body was still well-saturated by the rich meal recently consumed in Wiscasset, but not enough so to prohibit us from ordering hangar steak and a lobster arugala salad, both of which, although well-prepared, neither of us could finish. Subsequently, we uncorked ourselves from the table and walked back to the car. Being the gluttons that we truly are, we immediately decided that Black Rasberry ice cream was in order and off we went looking for a parlor that was open. As we strolled down the row of shops, we saw that all the lights were out in the local five and dime, but there was activity inside. In fact, the people inside were waving at us. Well, seeing the opportunity to meet the community, we approached, and to our surprise we were invited to come in and share in a birthday celebration. Here, we sat and yes, ate, with a beautiful family of four who owned this five and dime. Sumner, Roxanna, Josh, and the 16 year-old birthday boy (whose name escapes me) informed us of the local events and listened to us speak of our beloved Brooklyn. After picking up some supplies there to take back home with us, we retreated back to the farmhouse, where we collapsed into a huge country bed.