The coldest day in a very long time—11 below zero and wind blowing, snow in the air, both freshly falling and drifted sorts, as Mother Nature rearranges her flakes, eddying them around the corner of the house and piling lots up by the doorstep. This is one of those days when I make a circuit of the woodstoves every 40 minutes or so to replenish fuel.
It is also exactly the right day to slave over a hot stove.
Warming food, that’s the ticket. We breakfasted on oatmeal. It took three years of companionship for Toby to ‘fess up that he liked his oatmeal more porridge-y than I usually prepare it. I like oatmeal cooked like rice, each rolled oat puffed up and separate, a condition obtained by adding one part of oats to one part hot water. Toby likes to start with cold water, adds one part of oats to two of water, boils it together until he has a satisfyingly sticky mess. So, two little pans on the woodstove, each bubbling with a customized oatmeal mix.
Then for our dinner I thought we ought to have something rich, hot and nutritious. I decided upon cassoulet, inspired by goose fat left from roasting a Christmas goose and some home grown cannellini beans. I also made a potful of venison chili for lunch and the freezer.
While chopping onions, feeling the cook stove’s warmth on my back, I wondered what other islanders were cooking. A conversation with my neighbor Janet revealed that she was making spinach-and- ricotta-stuffed manicotti with a red sauce with wine that she makes.
I asked Donna Damon on Chebeague what she was cooking. She had just assembled a turkey pot pie, roasted some beef and produced twelve quarts of turkey soup, some of which she shared with a neighbor. To refuel, her husband, fresh in from shoveling snow, was cooking bacon and eggs. She said, “One thing about islanders is that we know how to stock up. My father used to say, ‘If you need one, buy two. You never know when the bay may freeze over!'”
On Long Island, Judy Paolini proved the truth of needing to stock up, and demonstrated how to adapt when you run out anyway. She said she was, “cooking my way through the cabinets, and I had a hankering for linguini carbonara. I had bacon and eggs, but no linguini. I did find Chinese egg noodles in my stash (left over from my latest attempt at beef noodle) and started cooking before I found out I was out of parmesan! But I had a lovely Maine mild cheddar, so the dish ended up being a Chinese-American carbonara or an Italian mac ‘n cheese (not sure which) but it was delicious!”
A friend on Deer Isle who prefers anonymity, and grows wonderful squashes in a gorgeous garden, has been making soup lately. “What I call,” she said, “curry pumpkin soup with onions, garlic, hot Vietnamese chili sauce (available in market), curry powder and pureed squash.”
Other Deer Islers, Carol and Dick Bridges, prefer classic chowder, beef, stew, lobster stew (who wouldn’t?) and biscuits; “Unless,” Carol says, “Dick can talk me into making a batch of yeast bread.”
Bread is one of Kate Shafer’s ways of keeping warm on Isle au Haut. The woodstove makes a warm place for rising, and the cold’s a great excuse for turning on the oven. When it was really cold, she made a vegetarian shepherd’s pie with browned tempeh and nutritional yeast gravy. And, hold onto your hats, she wrote: “I’m also obsessed with creating the perfect ramen right now—I like it spicy and full of homemade noodles, the kind of thing that makes you break out in a sweat before you’re finished eating it.”
Well, what else do you expect from someone who has the guts to make a living messing with chocolate? I love eating chocolate, but making anything like confections with it scares me half to death, and I am way too lazy to make homemade ramen.
So, I found cold weather cooking ranged all over the place on islands with a generous representation from the classic comfort food group: chowder, stews, chili, soup. I was a little surprised at the showing from warming ethnic fare. Perhaps Italian-derived pasta dishes are so mainstream now that they don’t qualify as ethnic anymore. And Asian-style noodles fit nicely on our plates and appetites because they come from the same family as other pastas.
I suspect that the enjoyment so many of us get from standing next to a hot stove in cold weather may come from some gene we carry. We have another similar gene for wrapping our hands around a hot mug of drinkables, or bowl of soup or stew. Somehow, if we keep our palms and backsides warm, and supply ourselves with hot, comforting food, the weather doesn’t seem so cold.
Sandy Oliver cooks and writes on Islesboro.