So I confess, I kind of stopped going to the Trackside Cafe about, oh, eight years ago. But I hear that the new operators have cleaned it up, spruced it up, and are turning over a new leaf. Anyone been yet?Monday, May 19, 2008
New Breakfast Joint
So I confess, I kind of stopped going to the Trackside Cafe about, oh, eight years ago. But I hear that the new operators have cleaned it up, spruced it up, and are turning over a new leaf. Anyone been yet?
A Sign of the Times
I don't know who does the signs at Arjay's but they are always the best, either short and funny. Or in this case, funny and topical.
Sorry Arjay's but my check is going to the boat...
Sunday, May 18, 2008
My First Book Review
By Lars Trodson
features@seacoastonline.com
May 18, 2008 6:00 AM
"How Do You Milk A Moose Anyway?"
Lara Bricker
VBW Publishing
Lara Bricker, in her published collection of columns wryly titled "How Do You Milk A Moose Anyway?" writes this: "But as I got my feet wet as a town reporter, I soon found I always had a good localized angle whenever there was a national disaster or bizarre news story. (Or so I have told every new reporter or intern who is assigned to cover Exeter.) That's pretty amazing for a town with a population of only about 15,000. It's like the Kevin Bacon six degrees of separation theory, only usually one or two degrees involved."
Bricker hits on something important about living and writing in New Hampshire and it is that New Hampshire (not only Exeter) seems to have a connection to just about everything. And, with her apparently ever-present reporter's notebook, Bricker roams the state, a cheerful archaeologist, digging into one esoteric and crazy event after another. She manages to unearth something interesting, funny, or both, everywhere she goes.
New Hampshire is a bountiful state, and if you want to get to know how colorful, interesting and, yes, well, idiosyncratic this place is, then this book is for you. "How Do You Milk A Moose Anyway" is also an apt title. Bricker will hear a strange item — such as the fact that someone, somewhere, is making gourmet cheese out of moose milk — and rather than react the way most of us would, which would be to say "Hmmm, isn't that interesting" and then move on, Bricker actually goes out and investigates.
A good reporter has catlike curiosity — some of what you poke your head into can get you into trouble — but what makes a great reporter is the ability to write about what they've learned and bring the reader right to it. That's Lara Bricker. The events don't have to be momentous.
Take the incident when Bricker decides she will prepare a meal in a column called "Cooking For the In-Laws.' She decides to make some shrimp scampi for her husband, Ken, and add a flourish to the dish by lighting a dash of brandy on fire. But Ken didn't have any brandy.
"I have some Southern Comfort, he told me. Will that work? I thought about it and while not totally convinced it would work, I didn't want him to lose out of the impressive finale to my shrimp preparation. And so I poured a little Southern Comfort in and touched it off with a flame. Whoosh. My husband, who is a firefighter, would call what happened a 'flashover.'"
This is great stuff, and not just because Bricker, like any first-rate essayist, brings her own foibles and mishaps right into the open, but also because the writing is compact and clever; she doesn't waste a word and her timing is impeccable. Mr. Strunk and Mr. White would be proud. Bricker takes us on a tour of wine-making at Flag Hill Winery, she becomes a member of the crew of the gundalow Capt. Edward Adams, she chronicles the events and emotions leading up to her own wedding ("I ordered the soundtrack to 'My Best Friend's Wedding' and drove around singing to it for weeks."), explores the experience of shopping in a modern-day grocery store and, yes, she lets us know how one can milk a moose.
The final essay in "How Do You Milk A Moose" is called "I'm Looking For Nookie." Nookie, it seems, is the name of a cat she has adopted while in college. Bricker takes Nookie to visit her sorority house and during the visit Nookie gets lost. Bricker paints a picture of 20 sorority sisters walking through fraternity row (she calls it "testosterone alley) while yelling "NOOKIE, NOOKIE NOOKIE." The frat brothers emerged from their houses all too willing to oblige, but it had nothing to do with finding the cat.
Eventually Nookie is found after having spent the week near the frat houses, and this is how Bricker describes Nookie's reappearance: "He smelled like old beer and chicken wings and seemed to have a newfound strut to his walk. He was looking for a cigarette." This is, as is almost all of "How Do You Milk A Moose Anyway?", terrific, comic, observational writing. It's a sparkling little book, and it is a pleasure to recommend it here.
features@seacoastonline.com
May 18, 2008 6:00 AM
"How Do You Milk A Moose Anyway?"
Lara Bricker
VBW Publishing
Lara Bricker, in her published collection of columns wryly titled "How Do You Milk A Moose Anyway?" writes this: "But as I got my feet wet as a town reporter, I soon found I always had a good localized angle whenever there was a national disaster or bizarre news story. (Or so I have told every new reporter or intern who is assigned to cover Exeter.) That's pretty amazing for a town with a population of only about 15,000. It's like the Kevin Bacon six degrees of separation theory, only usually one or two degrees involved."
Bricker hits on something important about living and writing in New Hampshire and it is that New Hampshire (not only Exeter) seems to have a connection to just about everything. And, with her apparently ever-present reporter's notebook, Bricker roams the state, a cheerful archaeologist, digging into one esoteric and crazy event after another. She manages to unearth something interesting, funny, or both, everywhere she goes.
New Hampshire is a bountiful state, and if you want to get to know how colorful, interesting and, yes, well, idiosyncratic this place is, then this book is for you. "How Do You Milk A Moose Anyway" is also an apt title. Bricker will hear a strange item — such as the fact that someone, somewhere, is making gourmet cheese out of moose milk — and rather than react the way most of us would, which would be to say "Hmmm, isn't that interesting" and then move on, Bricker actually goes out and investigates.
A good reporter has catlike curiosity — some of what you poke your head into can get you into trouble — but what makes a great reporter is the ability to write about what they've learned and bring the reader right to it. That's Lara Bricker. The events don't have to be momentous.
Take the incident when Bricker decides she will prepare a meal in a column called "Cooking For the In-Laws.' She decides to make some shrimp scampi for her husband, Ken, and add a flourish to the dish by lighting a dash of brandy on fire. But Ken didn't have any brandy.
"I have some Southern Comfort, he told me. Will that work? I thought about it and while not totally convinced it would work, I didn't want him to lose out of the impressive finale to my shrimp preparation. And so I poured a little Southern Comfort in and touched it off with a flame. Whoosh. My husband, who is a firefighter, would call what happened a 'flashover.'"
This is great stuff, and not just because Bricker, like any first-rate essayist, brings her own foibles and mishaps right into the open, but also because the writing is compact and clever; she doesn't waste a word and her timing is impeccable. Mr. Strunk and Mr. White would be proud. Bricker takes us on a tour of wine-making at Flag Hill Winery, she becomes a member of the crew of the gundalow Capt. Edward Adams, she chronicles the events and emotions leading up to her own wedding ("I ordered the soundtrack to 'My Best Friend's Wedding' and drove around singing to it for weeks."), explores the experience of shopping in a modern-day grocery store and, yes, she lets us know how one can milk a moose.
The final essay in "How Do You Milk A Moose" is called "I'm Looking For Nookie." Nookie, it seems, is the name of a cat she has adopted while in college. Bricker takes Nookie to visit her sorority house and during the visit Nookie gets lost. Bricker paints a picture of 20 sorority sisters walking through fraternity row (she calls it "testosterone alley) while yelling "NOOKIE, NOOKIE NOOKIE." The frat brothers emerged from their houses all too willing to oblige, but it had nothing to do with finding the cat.
Eventually Nookie is found after having spent the week near the frat houses, and this is how Bricker describes Nookie's reappearance: "He smelled like old beer and chicken wings and seemed to have a newfound strut to his walk. He was looking for a cigarette." This is, as is almost all of "How Do You Milk A Moose Anyway?", terrific, comic, observational writing. It's a sparkling little book, and it is a pleasure to recommend it here.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Can't Get Enough of Zampa?
We had a wonderful and relaxing dinner at Zampa in Epping Friday night. For those who have never been, this is truly a hidden jem in the area for both amazing food and atmosphere. These are the people who brought aioli to Epping!
I have been addicted to their porcini mushroom dusted rib eye for some time. I branched out last night because they've just changed their menu for the spring, with the Creole Barbeque Shrimp bowl, a flavorful and spicy bowl packed full of shrimp with tomatoes, onions, garlic and kick.
News from Cory McPhee, who owns the restaurant with wife/chef Julie DiTursi, is that a selection of prepared entrees from Zampa (and possibly that addictive porcini mushroom rub) will be sold starting next week at Calef's Country Store just off Route 125 in Barrington. Yummy!
Fire on Gill Street
A Gill Street family is temporarily homeless after a fire broke out early Saturday morning at about 6 a.m. Sounds like there was a good amount of damage. Stay tuned for more details.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Today's Column--Rats
By Lara BrickerMay 09, 2008 6:00 AM
We have rats. They've set up shop in the barn with our three old lady horses. I had a suspicion that something was living in the barn because of the little holes in the corner of the horse stalls. I of course tried to tell myself it was nothing. You know, denial. Nice try.
And then one day while cleaning out one of the horse's water buckets, two dead rats came sailing out of the water. I jumped about three feet in the air, screamed as if I was being attacked, and ran back to look at them. There they were, two drowned brown rats. Apparently they weren't water rats, or muskrats, able to survive when they made the plunge into the indoor pool. They had forgotten to take their life jackets.
After this day, I saw rats everywhere — rats, rats, rats. I found myself tip-toeing into the barn, sneaking up on the rats, who squeaked and scurried off into one of the many tunnels they'd burrowed in the barn. And so, I filled in their little holes, thinking perhaps they'd get the hint that the Hotel De Horse was closed.
Fat chance.
The next day, the holes would be bigger. And so would the rats. They were like mutants they became so large. CLICK HERE FOR COMPLETE COLUMN
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Book Talk Tonight
I'm speaking at the Wiggin Memorial Library in Stratham at 6:30 tonight about the moose book. Come one, come all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
