Going natural for the Portland Press Herald

As a professional scribe, I now have a new gig. I'm working for the Portland Press Herald's features department and one of my assignments is to write a weekly column called Natural Foodie. I began my inaugural column with a reference to my early days on the commune turned organic farm, so I thought I'd share a vintage photo with you.

This was shot in 1975 on Sunshine Farm and I'm standing in front of the newly constructed pig pen. It was the shelter given to a whole series of pigs, including the one I caught in a pig scramble at the Litchfield Country Fair, raised as a friend and later was asked to eat a slice of for dinner. As I said in the column, this is why my mother thinks I became a vegetarian.

While that and a series of other up-close-and-personal food encounters on the farm may have been traumatic at the time, they ultimately proved beneficial in nudging me toward the many delights of plant-based cuisine.

Such as these tasty samosas from Tandoor in the Old Port, which I mention in the column's sidebar that lists my lunches from last week.

My choice to eat plants rather than flesh has also introduced me to a whole bunch of fellow vegetarians, including members of the fast-growing Maine Vegan Meetup. Here we are enjoying lunch at the always packed and super vegan-friendly Silly's in the East End.

So if you're a fan of natural eats, be sure to pick up a copy of the Press Herald every Wednesday. And should you have news to share from Maine's healthful food scene, give me a ring at 791-6297 or drop me an email.

Wild red clover harvest

Yesterday I was talking with Sarah Richards - Portland's go-to herbalist who runs Homegrown Herb & Tea - and learned that we're in the midst of a worldwide shortage of dried red clover. Sarah says it will be months before she can get another shipment.

Good thing Maine is blessed with an abundance of this useful plant growing wild in fields and ditches.

I snapped these photos while I was up at Sunshine Farm for the Fourth of July weekend. After most of the guests left, I helped my mother gather a basket of red clover blossoms from where they grow wild on the front lawn. The pretty blooms can be used to top salads, but we were interested in drying them for storage.

Long grown as an agricultural crop, this nonnative legume has naturalized itself in North America. Farmers prize the crop for its ability to add nitrogen to the soil without using chemical fertilizers. It's harvested for both hay and silage.

My mother placed the freshly picked blooms on a cloth-lined basket to dry. She harvests and dries them throughout the summer and gathers enough to last her until the following spring.

Mixed as a tea, most often with other herbs, the dried blooms are used to treat a variety of problems, including respiratory issues, prostate problems, menopausal symptoms, PMS, high cholesterol, cancer and inflammation. Used topically, red clover soothes skin conditions including psoriasis and eczema. The blooms contain high levels of isoflavones (plant estrogens), and as a result are best avoided by women who are pregnant or breastfeeding. Dried red clover also contains significant amounts of calcium, chromium, magnesium, niacin, phosphorus, potassium, thiamine and vitamin C and is often used as a dietary supplement and a tasty way to ward off osteoporosis.

Not bad for a plant often mowed down as a weed.

The perfect pear sauce

This weekend we escaped to Sunshine Farm for some much needed R&R. We arrived on Sunday night and right away I noticed the overflowing basket of organic pears in the Big Mary kitchen.


The weather-worn fruits clearly came from the orchard, where chemical sprays are taboo.



The next day, I slept in a bit and by the time Adam and I had eaten breakfast and made our way over to Big Mary, the bountiful basket was almost empty.



My dad was rapidly peeling and slicing the pears and plopping them into a pot of water. He boiled the pears down, strained out some of the excess water and then served it. Warm and chunky, the sauce was utterly delicious. Sweet, but not too sweet, with a faint kiss of cooler nights and shorter days.

Retirement sunshine

I'm raising a cyber toast to my dad, who officially retired on Friday after more than 30 years leading engineering and building firms in Maine.


Check out the bottle he's holding, it contains "Retire-mints." (Isn't that a clever gift? Wish I could take credit for it!) He's looking forward to having more time to devote to his hobbies, his favorite charities and his golf swing. A big congratulations Dad!


Adam and I traveled up to Sunshine Farm for the weekend to help celebrate. On Saturday, a few relatives who live nearby came over for a cookout. The meal included my dad's favorite foods: Red hot dogs, B&M Baked Beans and corn on the cob. For dessert we ate the always crowd pleasing vegan chocolate cake from Whole Foods. The fudgey frosting and apricot jam layer never fail to score high marks.


Since it was so warm and muggy, I knew it was time to break out the rum. That morning I'd picked a cup of wild blueberries from the bush that is much older than I am and growing near the Honeymoon Cottage. I let these intense beauties inspire the cocktail.


Luckily I'd brought along a few organic lemons, which always lighten up any summer drink. The result is a perky balance between sweet and sour - perfect for a long afternoon of relaxing in the sunshine. Even for those of us who aren't retired.


Blueberry Sunshine

1 organic lemon
3 oz. rum
2 oz. Maine maple syrup
4 tsp. wild Maine blueberries
4 springs lemon balm

Cut two wedges from the lemon and then juice it. Split the lemon juice between two old fashioned glasses. Then add a spring of lemon balm and 1 tsp. of blueberries to each glass. Muddle for 2-3 seconds. Add the rum and maple syrup to a cocktail shaker filled with ice. Shake and then split the mixture between the two glasses. Add the ice from the cocktail shaker to the glasses (you'll need to add a few more fresh cubes to fill each glass). Garnish with a lemon wedge, 1 tsp. of blueberries and a spring of lemon balm. Makes 2.

Stalking the wild ginger

When I was a kid, I gave this patch of wild ginger a wide berth. I feared snakes and spiders and ever other creepy-crawly waiting beneath those heart-shaped leaves. I didn't care to expose my bare ankles to such unknown depths. No way.

I never once walked through it.

Which is probably a good thing. Today wild ginger is listed as threatened by the state of Maine. This patch was much smaller 25 years ago and has slowly swelled to its present size. Unlike dandelions or plantain, wild ginger doesn't just fling its seeds around everywhere. So when it's wiped out by construction or human activity, it won't show up elsewhere in the neighborhood.

My mother washed a plant and a bit of root after I picked it for dinner Saturday night. Adam and I were up at Sunshine Farm for a Father's Day weekend visit, before traveling to Adam's parent's home the following day for more celebrations. Our Saturday dinner included a wild salad, and my mother took us on a tour around the property looking for edibles.

I couldn't resist grabbing a few of these late-season dandelions growing in a shady spot (see the moss?), where they never bloomed. I picked the still tender, less jagged leaves.


This bright green clump of lamb's quarters self-seeded itself (as in does every year) in one of my mother's gardens. A common plant often found in disturbed soil, it is a sweet, delicate and delicious addition to salads and stir fries. My mother harvested some of these baby lamb's quarters the night before, so we only took a pinch.

We added in a few chives and red clover blossoms and had quite the garnish for our salad. I took the mixed greens, the micro greens and the dill I bought at that morning's farmers' market and topped it with these wild treats and a few sunflower seeds.

When I made my red wine vinaigrette, I added a few pieces of finely chopped wild ginger root, which gave it an added zing.

1st chives of the season

My mother brought these sweet, succulent chives back from Sunshine Farm (aka the commune). They made a wonderfully fresh topping to last night's Maine baked potatoes, served with organic olive oil, Maine sea salt and sautéed onions. Yum!