Category:

Indian Food Comes To Waterville

12/4/2014

Heavens. I haven't made a post since April? Ugh. Definitely makes the blog title ironic. I've been very busy with work, touring colleges, and real-world effort to build a creative economy in Waterville via Common Street Arts and Waterville Creates!. The exclamation point is actually part of the name, not overenthusiasm on my part - and thus the ! followed by a period. Something I don't think Strunk & White ever covered.
Anyway, what this post is about is The Jewel of India. (FB Page here) It's our new local Indian restaurant, braving the mercurial economic terrain of Waterville. I've eaten there twice and people keep asking how is it, so here's my answer. KennebecTom's official rating is "Awesome."

Simply, the food is delicious. Really delicious. As good as any Indian cuisine I've had - which is admittedly just a handful of places in a handful of cities.

Now, please be patient. They are mobbed and nearly over-loved right now. My wife and I had to wait for a table at lunchtime last weekend. As soon as I put the first bite of chicken biryani in my mouth, I knew the wait had been worth it. The garlic nan and vegetable samosa were fantastic.

So, when my wife won a "Teacher of the Quarter" vote at her high school, we celebrated by getting takeout. Well, it was quite a gauntlet I ran with good humor.
First, I tried calling from work for 20 minutes, but every time I got a message after two rings that the "user's mailbox had not been set up yet." Whaaaaat? I gave up and concluded an in-person order would have to be made.

I drove downtown and was only half-surprised to see every table occupied, people waiting, and the waitress busy with tallying a bill so I had to wait to report both the phone issue and place my order. Then I learned the wait would be 30 minutes. There was some communication difficulty due to language barrier, but at ethnic restaurants I consider this confidence inspiring. As you may recall, cornerstones of my immigration policy are that any foreigners can stay as long as they like if employed in cooking delicious foods of their country just like their grandma (or whatever their word is) taught them, or if volunteering to pay my income taxes.

I still had enough time before picking up a daughter at dance class, so I said fine and went across the darkened, wintery Main Street to check out the new Loyal Biscuit downtown and see if they carried my favorite cat litter. They didn't, but it's very nice inside and the clerk appeared to authentically have her own dog working the register with her.

Next I wandered down past Kringleville, set up beautifully in The Center in the front windows with a righteous Santa and helpers, but few children this early in the season. A beautiful, warm setup behind the picture windows it is. Much improvement over Santa's old shed with often muddy entrance of years past.

I walked down to Common Street Arts, just to make sure our snow removal guy did his job and had a chat with programming coordinator Lisa Wheeler, who is currently working hard to make this year's Holiday Bazaar even bigger and better than last year. Having satisfied these curiosities and savored the crisp night air amongst the historic buildings (some of which have watched over 123 prior Christmases), I strolled back to wait inside The Jewel.

The place was humming. I read the news, checked Facebook, and checked my email on my beloved iPhone, and chatted a bit with other customers, included several familiar faces. Some folks waited, some folks decided to try an alternative, but took a takeout menu with them. A quartet beside me began discussing the "Chinese restaurant around the corner" as a possibility, and I butted in that if they meant Jin Yuan, it is excellent and my favorite Chinese restaurant in town. They thanked me and took off, my opinion having clinched it, and I'll stand behind that opinion any day. It could have been a ruse to advance my position in line, but I'm not that kind of guy. It was an honest plan to drive business to another beloved restaurant in the downtown of course. I am that kind of guy.

So I stood and observed the slightly stressed young Indian man and two new waitresses confront their sudden and overwhelming popularity in a milder, culinary version of what Lorde must be going through. They have all the standard startup issues of any new restaurant - wonky phones, new procedures, untested systems, etc. I got my food, picked up my daughter, and finally made it home. And as soon as the first bite of chicken tikka masala and basmati rice hit my tongue, I made my popular "savory face" (lips pursed, eyes closed, face turned skyward), said "Mmmmm" and knew the wait was worth it.

I will stick with them for the long haul as long as they keeping cooking like this. It's delicious, fresh, and savory. I'm no regular culinary writer with a food-oriented thesaurus, so I'll have to leave it at that. They're a wonderful addition to Waterville's Downtown Dining District - as defined by yours truly.

0 Comments

The Real Maine Experience: Snow and Snowblowers

10/12/2013

0 Comments

This blog, and other initiatives on the net I'm involved with were intended to reflect my attempt to do something USEFUL with the internet, rather than just frittering away precious hours of my life. At its lightest, I merely attempt to amuse. At its heaviest, I may attempt to affect political thought. In the middle, I seek merely to inform. About history. About music. And about Maine.

When I was considering moving to Maine, beginning as early as 1993, I sought information about it. Over time, with the internet in its clumsy infancy, I relied upon a weekend subscription to the Portland Press Herald, Down East magazine, and statistics compiled by the Annie E. Casey Foundation. I also spent a lot of time looking at maps of the amazingly unpopulated expanses of woods in Maine, and its fascinatingly convoluted shoreline. But all these sources fail to present an "on the ground" detail about what living here is really like. Especially when you've moved here from away and somewhere totally different (Arizona in my case). So let me now try to provide a service I wish had existed when I was considering the state. A series of articles about minutiae that may not be written about elsewhere. The series will eventually include romantic adorations of the state (for there is much to adore), and criticisms and laments of its shortcomings (which I consider lesser, but should be taken into account). I, in my twelfth year in Maine, unabashedly love this state, and still frequently look around and think, "Damn, this is just a great, great place", mostly in reaction to its natural beauty. But some of the negatives I consider minor might be deal-breakers for others. So let me describe one of those negatives, and suggest a survival tool that could make the difference between you becoming a lifelong year-round resident and bagging it and heading for easy living in Del Boca Vista.

You must buy a snowblower.

It snows a lot in Maine. Not every winter, but about half. In just eleven years, I've experienced it all. According to old-timers, I have apparently experienced the warmest winter, the shortest winter, the coldest winter, the snowiest winter, the rainiest winter, the longest winter, and just flat-out weirdest winter anyone can remember. And some of these are 60 to 70 year-old people. Well, at the beginning of our first winter, my wife and I moved into our 1968 ranch house, with a beautiful yard, and a 300-foot long driveway. Driving around Maine for the first six months, I was baffled as to why there were so many houses with 10, 20, 60, 80, or even 100 acres of land, but the house was located right on the edge of the frickin' road. Sometimes right near the highway. For more privacy, and quiet, and safety of children, wouldn't you want to be farther back? Well, then it snowed. And it snowed. And it snowed. And I had three hundred feet of driveway to clear to get to work.

At first, the kindly farmer down the road offered to plow our driveway for us, for $20 a plow. Sounded great. But it snowed a lot. And his interpretation of when it was time to plow was a little different than mine. I would've picked about six inches as the trigger point. He seemed to feel that one or two inches necessitated another $20 pass. It was an expensive winter and it was clear we needed a different solution.

I think I valiantly went after it with a shovel once. That was foolish and utterly defeating. Next, my mind lighted on purchasing the snowplow attachment for my Craftsman lawn tractor. Well, that was apparently designed for the occasional snowfall on the outskirts of Tucson, Arizona or something. With the blade in the straight position, the tractor, even with wheel weights and chains, would only move the snow about five feet before that was the end of the road. The blade would ride up over the snow, the front wheels would drive into the compressed snow, the rear wheels would spin, and there I was stuck and unable to move forward or backward to free myself. With the blade angled, to hypothetically push the snow to left or right, the snow instead shoved the front of the tractor to the left or right, into the parallel unplowed area, and once again I was stuck. It was immediately clear that the blade was useless. I imagine the resistance of the snow may be one reason why snowplowers plow early and frequently (the need for extra Christmas shopping money being the other).

Plowing snow is big business in Maine. Every contractor, boat dealer, and basically any guy with a truck has a plow attachment. Some have drop-in sand/salt spreaders that fit in the bed of their truck. They plow driveways all winter, until building season arrives, after mud season (more on mud season in future posts). I'd guess about half of people go the plow route. Every plower has a list of regular customers, and during storms these guys plow all night and all day till the storm ends, and then for a good while after.

But the problems with plowing are the possible runaway cost and the ever decreasing size of your driveway. For when the plow truck begins the season, they plan ahead. They shove the snow way beyond the edges of the driveway, driving right onto your lawn and plowing the snow across it. Where they stop and back up, you're left with a 2-3 foot high wall of really densely packed snow. It can't be shoveled. It's too densely packed. With subsequent warm-ups and re-freezes it will get even harder. Also, with the next plow, it may get a little taller. 3-4 feet. Now, in Maine the snow usually stays. It doesn't thaw and disappear like in Arizona. Your early December snow may well stay till April, with each subsequent storm adding to it. And each time the plow truck comes, it can't push that wall of snow any farther. So its next plow run is a little shorter. And a little shorter. And so on.

Your driveway area slowly decreases with every storm. Eventually, you've got these 3 foot high walls of rock solid snow ringing your driveway. If you back into one turning around, it can actually collapse a modern plastic bumper. When things get really desperate, the only way out is to bring in a guy with a front end loader to actually scoop it up, dump it in a truck, and take it away. It's not that way every winter. But in winter 2010-2011, we had one of the heaviest snow years anyone one could remember, and certainly the heaviest in my eleven years. And things were pretty bad.

That is where a snowblower has the advantage. Instead of shoving snow around, the snowblower steadily and methodically eats it up and blows it up the chute and out in a giant arc, placing it wherever you like with surgical precision.

There's two kinds. Walk-behind ones about 24 inches wide or so - kind of like a slow moving push-mower - and tractor mounted ones that hook to your ride-on lawn mower or lawn tractor. Since I already had a lawn tractor, I decided to hunt for the blower attachment for it. New, the price was a little daunting, but by knowing the specific model number I needed, and with 6 months of patient scanning of Uncle Henry's classified ads every week, I had the luck of locating a used one that was the specific fit for my tractor.

An annual tradition, the infamous Mower to Blower conversion.

The first time I put it on was at the beginning of a raging snowstorm. I had been dilly-dallying at doing the conversion, which involves removing the mowing deck and installing certain rigging and rear wheel weights and chains - and then mounting the blower itself. Somewhere around midnight, with the snow outside now a foot deep and the family all gone to bed, I realized I was missing a couple of key parts. Necessary parts. So (after a lot of cursing and rechecking box everything came in about ten times) I actual made poor but functional versions of the parts from some scrap metal I had. Around 2 AM I had the thing in operable condition. Nowadays, with the right parts and experience, I can convert the tractor in about one hour.

Generally, it valiantly and effectively clears the driveway and sidewalk in about 30 minutes. It has the most difficulty with heavy, wet snow. But the most miserable experience is when the wind is blowing in random patterns and suddenly whips the stream of snow right back on me. I'm coated in powder, but my body heat soon melts it and leaves me wet. They make soft plastic and nylon cabs that fit over the tractor and prevent this from happening, but I've never purchased one. Seems to me it would greatly obscure vision, especially in evening, night, and early morning conditions. And after being showered with a blowback. I generally oppose this unpleasantry with a water resistant hooded coat and ski pants.

So there you have it. The straight dope on coping with snow in Maine. Think twice before buying that house with the long beautiful driveway.

0 Comments

From The Lakehouse: Camp Art Gallery

6/16/2013

0 Comments

So we're renting a charming little camp on Long Pond this week. Long Pond itself is a work of art, and the camp is a tidy, efficient, thoughtfully constructed beauty too. The owner explained that it's been in the family a long time, and his parents lived here until recently. Perched about 40 feet from water's edge, I have the luxury of typing this with the call of loons, the sounds of crows squabbling with a bald eagle, lapping waves, and the sigh of gentle wind through the soaring hemlocks and white pines.

The camp is outfitted with nigh everything you could desire. Sheets, towels, paper goods, dishes, utensils, spices, books and games. A dishwasher, microwave, toaster, two coffeemakers, washer and dryer - well heck, it's basically a complete house. But within the first 24 hours, I noticed and became charmed by the eclectic collection of art and knicknacks. They are things I myself would perhaps not have purchased had I seen them in an antique or thrift store. Things whose charm I might not have understood in a different context. But somehow, here, gathered together and presented on the walls and shelves of the camp, they seem so right, so delightful, so complimentary - like a carefully curated gallery show. So I have decided to create this digital gallery to share them with you, reproductions by iPhone. Forgive the occasional glare; enjoy the occasional details.

0 Comments

Why The Spooky "Historic" Blizzard of 2013 Was A 5-Star Storm To Me

2/9/2013

0 Comments

1. It didn't get serious until I was home for the evening on Friday night.
2. It was just enough to cause all Saturday commitments to be cancelled, so I could sleep in and there was no time pressure about clearing the driveway.
3. The snow was light and fluffy - optimal snowblower fodder.
4. Lightweight snow with no roof accumulation requiring roof raking or threatening any structures.
5. Adequate depth to get that uniform, clean white effect and cover the stupid sand the town(s) put down everywhere.
6. The heavy snow stopped right as I finished the snow-clearing, and ended Saturday night. So no heavy labor Sunday.

Thus, a perfect, textbook New England snowstorm. Just the kind I moved here for.

0 Comments

...a four hour tour.

10/2/2012

0 Comments

So today I had four hours to thank my wonderful sister-in-law, Nikki, and her endurance driver friend, Amy, for driving my new (used) car out from Ohio to Maine. I wanted to show Amy, who had never been to Maine before, a small sampling of the best of Waterville and Winslow, and create a little fun for Nikki before we had to have them back to Portland Jetport for their flight.

So I picked them up at 9:00 AM, and KennebecTom's tour service proceeded to hustle to Fort Halifax Park. We parked, hopped out, and viewed the 1754 blockhouse and the nice new informational display. Then sauntered into the park far enough to see the beautiful lawn, trees, picnic tables, and Kennebec River. After a Ferris Bueller style contemplative silence, it was back to the car. I was spewing factoids about the river and the Fort. We drove back up Halifax Street, which I pointed out appears on maps from the late 1700s, and past the ancient headstones of Fort Hill Cemetery.

Then we crossed back over the Kennebec, discussing the Hathaway mill and stopped at Head of Falls, where we walked out onto the Two Cent Bridge, while I gave amateur tour guide info on the former paper mill, the bridge, and City Hall and the Waterville Opera House. Then it was back in the car and to our breakfast destination, Selah Tea Cafe. Good coffee and a delicious scone for me. Nikki, a tea lover, had something off the lengthy tea roster. I eyed the pleasant surroundings as a possible Atlantic Music Festival venue.

Then I decided to show them Barrels Market, so we started walking down Main Street in the cool fall air, but Holy Cannoli caught our eye. The ladies had never had cannoli, so we stopped in and got them three to sample. I chatted with the proprietor and made note of the ready-to-heat stromboli in the display case. Future lunch? Oh yes.

We stopped outside the Maine Made shop for a photo op with the giant stuffed moose. While that picture was being taken I was peering through the glass into the REM Forum, again thinking how the space might work for a chamber music performance. Then we made it across the street to Barrels. Something delicious must have been cooking because it smelled GREAT in there. Nikki loved the place, proclaiming that she'd shop there all the time if she could. I told her they'd love for her to move to Maine. Amy picked up a teeny-tiny jar of blueberry honey (that will comply with airline rules). I had never noticed, and was impressed by the hand-crafted soap that is sliced and sold by weight on the spot. Mostly, I reminded myself to come back soon for more Maine tinned herring.

Next, it was back in the car for more road-touring. Down Water Street so I could show them the Hathaway Creative Center building. Beyond that, I pointed out my demarcation line for the beginning of the "bad part of town", which is quaint compared to the bad parts of...say...Phoenix, Arizona. They were treated to a dual appearance of Shirtless Bob and Shirtless Rob, and I mentioned John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmitt. Well, they really lucked out, because after we wended our way back up to Silver Street, past my office, who should we see, but Die Ubersturmfuhrer himself, walking jauntily with his cane and pseudo East German military garb. Sort of military casual.

Back across the Carter Bridge, we took the back road to Augusta just to see the rolling countryside, some farms, trees changing color, historic houses, and the former Coburn Classical Institute building standing on the hill like a castle.

In Augusta, I swung them by Fort Western and around the State Capitol building. Then it was back to the turnpike, but just for a short bit. I wanted to stop and see something I've passed for the last 11 years. The Center for Maine Craft at the Gardiner Travel Plaza. I had always skipped it, thinking "craft" meant country hearts and angels motifs that I loath, and other JoAnn Fabrics kinds of nicky-nack stuff. I was disabused of this notion when I had a discussion with...well...either the director or an assistant director of the Center during an event at Common Street Arts.

It's not exactly salient, but in the travel plaza, nestled beside the Starbucks and Quiznos and Burger King, and through a glass door, is an amazing collection of the output of Maine's best artists and craftsmen (used in the Star Trekky non-gender specific sense). I couldn't really soak it all in in the limited time we had. Usually, I'd whip out my iPhone and photograph everything to share with you and to inspect more slowly later. But there were several signs saying no photography, so I respected that and tried to rely on my lousy 42-year old memory apparatus.

There was woodwork and furniture, and glasswork, and glassware, and textiles, and weavings, and clocks, and lamps, and paintings and photography, and jewelry and lots of beautiful stuff. Truly a wonderful collection, I thought, hmmm...wouldn't it be cool if a satellite branch was opened in downtown Waterville. The formula is already worked out and the contacts established. It could be located close to Common Street Arts to help build the much-sought-after critical mass.

I filed this place away as a viable Christmas shopping location and a gem to recommend to visitors, since they have to pass it to get to my house anyway, AND it's in the same building as a Starbuck's. Hello?!

But, back in the car and on to Portland it was, where I treated my benefactor drivers to Chinese food at my family's favorite Chinese restaurant in Portland - near the Mall and the airport - Imperial China. Mongolian Beef and hot tea for me. Nikki praised them for being the rare example of a place that, when she requests spicy, really makes it spicy.

And that was the end of the fateful four hour tour. I dropped the ladies curbside at the jetport and bid them the fondest of farewells - well, au revoir really, since we'll be seeing them in December.

On the drive back I communed with my new (used) Camry and we began forming that oh-so-important car-owner bond (probably like mountain men used to have with their horses - except you can't eat a car in a pinch). I reminded myself that I should repeat certain elements of this tour more frequently myself. And perhaps you should check them out on a more leisurely basis.

0 Comments

The exact moment of Spring.

3/20/2010

0 Comments

I've never witnessed it firsthand before, but I did in my yard today. I was taking some pictures when I noticed a bird land in a nearby leafless crabapple tree. A robin! Then another landed. Then four more. I followed one with my eyes as it flew to the right, and up, into the 80-foot tall, still leafless, maples. Then I noticed the rest. Five, ten, fifteen. At least twenty-five of them, where all winter and earlier this day there had been none. Bam. The robins have returned to town, and I saw the exact moment the flock reached my yard. Pretty cool. Beautiful day today as I burned a pile of brush and played two-square with Kate. A bald eagle circled overhead. Ducks flew over low. Chip the chipmunk is back out and gathering seed off the porch. And, oh yes, the first two mosquitoes of the season have bitten me.

0 Comments

Indian Food Comes To Waterville

The Real Maine Experience: Snow and Snowblowers

From The Lakehouse: Camp Art Gallery

Why The Spooky "Historic" Blizzard of 2013 Was A 5-Star Storm To Me

...a four hour tour.

The exact moment of Spring.

The Daily Consternation
covering Maine, music, and more.

Author

Topics

Archives

Indian Food Comes To Waterville

The Real Maine Experience: Snow and Snowblowers

From The Lakehouse: Camp Art Gallery

Why The Spooky "Historic" Blizzard of 2013 Was A 5-Star Storm To Me

...a four hour tour.

The exact moment of Spring.

The Daily Consternation ​covering Maine, music, and more.

Author

Topics

Archives

The Daily Consternation
covering Maine, music, and more.