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Note to New Yorkers: We also have a claim as a Hopper inspiration.

by Colin W. Sargent

In 1927, Edward Hopper and his wife Josephine Nivison bought a used 1925 Dodge and felt a rush of freedom as they left Washington Square in New York City and headed up the coast of Maine. When they saw the village of Two Lights in Cape Elizabeth, they pulled to the side of the road and took a deep breath. It was here he and Jo, a talented artist herself and fellow student of Robert Henri, spent three consecutive summers, painting the lighthouses and–a tantalizing possibility–stumbling on his inspiration for the breakthrough urban landscape Chop Suey (1929), which up until now has been ascribed to Columbus Circle in Manhattan.

Consider the case for Portland:

ONE: Hopper was here, not in New York, during the summer of 1927, the painting’s gestation period. In fact, he and Jo were frequent visitors to Portland at night while summering at Two Lights. It’s hard to imagine they’d have avoided the new State Theatre (1927)–both were movie and theater lovers–and Eastland Park Hotel (1927), the largest hotel north of Boston, which crowned the Forest City’s theater district along our Great White Way, where the iconic restaurant Empire Chop Suey held sway with its striking incandescent sign.

TWO: Location, location, location. John Whipple, of Whipple–Callender Architects, says, “I was the architectural consultant on a committee that reviewed applications for the city’s facade grant program. One of the applications was from Bill Umbel. He wanted to reproduce a large blade sign for his club, the Empire Dine and Dance, on 575 Congress Street, and he needed an exemption from the usual restrictions in sign size. His argument was that the original sign was huge. Scott Hanson was the city’s historical consultant. He showed up at the next meeting with a permit dated August, 1930 that he’d dug out of the city’s files and some photos of the building taken in 1924. The permit was for strengthening an existing sign that was 24-feet tall, weighed 600 pounds, and swung dangerously over the sidewalk. The photos showed a building with two bay windows and a sign with light bulbs that spelled ‘Chop Suey’ in vertical letters. Scott opened a book to Hopper’s painting. We all agreed that if you were looking out the western-most bay window you would have seen exactly what Hopper painted.

“A few weeks later, I told my brother, a painter in Seattle, what Scott had found. He said he’d just helped with a show on Edward Hopper at Seattle Art Museum. The show’s catalog described Hopper’s New York influences at length. We contacted the curator, Patti Junker, and Scott sent her the permits, the photos, and an article by [Maine historian] Gary Libby about Chinese restaurants in Portland. She emailed back: ‘I admit I was skeptical, but after seeing the image, I am absolutely convinced. I think it was this chop-suey restaurant that he had in mind, although the picture was conceived in his studio
in NYC.’”

THREE: To bay or not to bay! The site traditionally ascribed to Chop Suey–a long-lost second-floor joint on Columbus Circle above a Child’s restaurant in Manhattan–lacks the distinctive bay window in Hopper’s painting, while Portland has it. Add that to Portland’s identical distance between windows, and…

Avis Berman, who’s written about Chop Suey for Smithsonian magazine, tells us, “I certainly think there’s credence to your notion that the Maine Chinese restaurant could have sparked Hopper’s idea.”

Gail Levin, author of Edward Hopper: An Intimate Biography, allows, “He often combined images that he saw in more than one place, so your place might have contributed to his painting even if he ate at the Columbus Circle place.”

Not that Hopper’s talking. Was it a photo or simply a mind’s-eye sketch he drew here? Jo once wrote, “Sometimes talking to Eddie is just like dropping a stone in a well, except that it doesn’t thump when it hits bottom.”

Critics point to Chop Suey as a breakthrough. There’s agreement that the seated woman in the cloche hat facing the viewer is based on Jo. More fascinating, the identical diner facing her is, by many accounts, a doppelgänger, making this painting an enlightened comment on the mass-market loneliness of our 20th-century crowds. Or should we call her a “hoppelgänger”?

John Updike gets credit for the insight that “Hopper is always on the verge of telling a story.” Isn’t it wonderful to think each of us might be living out Chop Suey’s narrative in Portland today?

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When it comes to something as simple as lobster stew, the debate is complicated. Even so, there’s nothing more satisfying than a big,
hearty bowl.

by Judith Gaines

Lobster stew is the most curious of culinary icons. Everyone seems to agree it is a treasured dish of almost mythic status, beloved by generations of Mainers.

“It’s a classic,” says Chef Harding Lee Smith, who periodically offers it as a special at his Grill Room and Front Room restaurants in Portland.

“It’s the real Maine experience,” says Cal Hancock, head of Hancock Gourmet Lobster in Cundy’s Harbor, whose lobster stew won a gold medal in 2007 from the National Association of Specialty Foods. “If you live in Maine, it’s real comfort food. It’s the best thing since sliced bread.”

Trouble is, no one can agree on exactly what it is.

Some take a minimalist view. They sauté chunks of cooked lobster in butter, add it to warmed cream with salt and pepper, and serve it immediately with a dollop of butter floating on top. “I don’t think anybody can improve on that,” says George Olson, who offered a demonstration of his technique at Uncle Kippy’s, his restaurant in Lubec.

Others insist, equally fervently, that it isn’t lobster stew without paprika (which intensifies the reddish color), a good lobster stock to enhance the flavor, and perhaps some sherry, an elegant touch.

Succulent Simplicity

Lydia Shire, executive chef of Blue Sky on York Beach, makes a lobster stew she claims was a favorite of President John F. Kennedy. She boils live lobsters for five minutes, removes the meat, and saves the shells. Then she cooks the shells in a Dutch oven with sherry; adds milk, cream, paprika, salt, and pepper; and refrigerates the mixture overnight to let the flavors develop. The following day, she cooks the shelled meat with butter and more sherry, adds the cream mixture, heats until warm, and serves her “JFK Lobster Stew” garnished with parsley.

By using the shells, Shire comes close to making lobster bisque, which is sometimes confused with lobster stew because both are cream-based. But bisque involves cooking the shells and then grinding them into a paste which is added to the soup, or making a roux. Bisque also can be thickened with rice, which is strained or pureed in the final stages of preparation. The end product is thicker and redder than lobster stew.

Lobster stew, of course, isn’t really a stew, which typically involves slow-cooking meat or seafood with vegetables and thickening the liquid with flour to make a gravy.

Establishing the key ingredients in lobster stew can be as controversial as debating politics or religion, and partisans feel no less passionately about their views. Chefs and home cooks alike disagree about whether lobster stew should contain onions, or garlic, or a little dry mustard, or potatoes…and the list goes on. Harding Smith makes a version with lobster tomalley and roe “to give it depth.” Cal Hancock’s award-winning stew was inspired by her grandmother–a traditional version enhanced with lobster stock, spices, and a little tomato paste. “My grandmother always said, ‘Don’t do anything to hide the taste of the lobster,’” Hancock recalls. “It’s a delicate balance.”

And a tricky one. Trying to find the perfect lobster stew can seem like the search for the Holy Grail. Is the dish too creamy or too milky? Too thick or too thin? Too simple to make or too complex? Does it have the right ratio of lobster to liquid? (The consensus seems to be 40 or 50 percent, but this is a subject of debate, too.) And should the stew be served right away or refrigerated for a while so the lobster flavor infuses it more fully? The Maine Lobster Council touts about a dozen recipes with names like “Classic Maine Lobster Stew,” “Maine Lobster Stew,” “Maine Lobsterman’s Stew,” and “The Ultimate Maine Lobster Stew”–all very different, and all with their enthusiastic advocates.

Tasty Rebellions

Lawrence Klang, chef de cuisine at Natalie’s in Camden, describes himself as “kind of down” on traditional versions of lobster stew, which he finds “heavy-handed and a little boring.” He enjoys cooking Maine’s premier crustacean but prefers to make a “Thai-style lobster stew” with stewed tomatoes and shallots, white port, ginger, green curry paste, turmeric, saffron, kaffir lime leaves, and a vegetable stock with fresh carrot juice, all finished with a bit of preserved lemon. This elaborate dish is “complex but light” and showcases the talents of a professional chef, he says. “Personally, I don’t want people to come to my restaurant and pay for something that’s easy to make at home.”

Similarly, Chef Jeff Buerhaus of Walter’s in Portland says he enjoys a fairly traditional version of lobster stew at home, but at his restaurant he likes to offer “a Caribbean and Mediterranean twist.” His lobster stew has “sweet chili, wild boar bacon, purple Peruvian potatoes, and sweet potatoes; it’s sweet, smoky, and savory,” he says. With so many potatoes, most people would call this a lobster chowder. But who’s to say?

Cracking the Case

The origins of “authentic” lobster stew remain obscure. According to one history, lobster stew became widely popular after about 1910, when a bowl of it–intended for the servants–was accidentally sent to the table of John D. Rockefeller Sr. and his guests. There “it was rapturously received” and quickly became a family favorite. “In New York, what was good enough for John D. was good enough for the rest of society,” writes author Linda Stradley in What’s Cooking America.

But clearly lobster stew was created long before then. There are recipes for it in The Boston Cooking School Cookbook of 1884 and even Robert May’s The Accomplisht Cook, published in London in 1685. In the 1685 version, May sautés chunks of cooked lobster in butter and then heats this for half an hour in a mix of claret, butter, nutmeg, and orange slices.

Some Mainers suspect it was adapted here by budget-conscious fishermen’s wives, who laboriously picked the meat from lobster bodies and “stewed“ it in creamy milk–which was readily available–with just a few spices for a quick, easy, and economical meal. “It was a great way to use leftover lobster,” says Chef Larry Matthews of Portland’s Back Bay Grill, who recalls his grandmother made lobster stew this way. Who would have guessed the dish was headed for stardom?

Lubec is a little fishing village with around six very different restaurants. One of the few things they have in common is lobster stew on the menu.

“You have to,” says George Olson, who’s been the cook (not chef, he insists) at Uncle Kippy’s for 26 years. “If you don’t have it, people will go somewhere else.”

“I’ve tried everything, all kinds of variations,” Olson continues. “But my mother made it, and I do it the same way. The only secret is to use lobster that is fresh, really fresh. That’s what Maine is all about.”

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The crew from Discovery Channel’s mega-hit Deadliest Catch knows how to reel us in. Before they drop anchor at Merrill Auditorium September 12 during their live tour, we caught up with the fearless and bawdy Hillstrand brothers.

Interview by Robyn Foley

What’s the difference between a regular fairy tale and a fisherman’s fairy tale?

Captain Andy Hillstrand: A regular fairy tale starts out, “Once upon a time.” A fisherman’s fairy tale begins, “You’re never going to [freakin’] believe this!”

Of all the hours of footage shot in a season, how many actually make it on Deadliest Catch?

Captain Johnathan Hillstrand: We shoot 10,000 hours each season; about 20 hours make it on the show.

Ok, so you’re in port and in a hurry for a dinner date–is there a quick antidote for crab stink? Can you tell us any homemade remedies? Lemon juice?

AH: Ah, but [crab stink] is the smell of money!

You crab fishermen have your superstitions–what are your faves?

AH: We’re Swedish, so we will do a left-handed Swedish turn heading out.

Johnathan, when you fished in Gloucester–did you get up here to Portland?

JH: Many times. When I owned the fishing vessel Canyon Explorer, we were in town a lot–fishing for deep-sea lobster and slime eels. I have friends here.

Jay Leno recently wisecracked, “You guys remind me of every Mainer I have ever met.” But, you’re not Mainers! What do you think he meant by that?

JH: …Hard working and honest.

What’s your craziest bycatch?

JH: We brought up a half cod, half shark one time.

AH: A ratfish.

JH: We were going to call it an “Andy-fish.” We’ve also brought up a Scale Crab–there are only four or five on record. It’s a deep-sea crab with red and white stripes.

Sounds like half-lie, half-truth. Sometimes blue lobsters turn up in Maine traps; have any blue crabs or other interesting anomalies graced your crab pots?

JH: Rarely there will be a white king crab. You can get a light blue Opilio crab sometimes, too. Those are one in a million, though.

AH: Johnathan always says “one in a million” when he doesn’t know the true stats.

If you weren’t destined to be crab-boat captains, what do you think you’d be doing now?

AH: Astronaut.

JH: Racing something. We’ve both always loved racing cars. We used to do the quarter mile.

AH: American-Graffiti style.

[A dreamy pause ensues]

JH: I had a ’55 Chevy 600hp once.

AH: 1979 GTO with a ’69 body. It did 180 mph.

The flag on your vessel Time Bandit is a Jolly Roger. What’s up with that? You guys trying to ward off evil spirits?

JH: It’s funny–a red background would mean everyone’s going to be killed; the black background means “surrender.” We definitely want the crabs to surrender!

Becky’s Diner is a waterfront landmark here in Portland. All the crews from sword boats to shrimpers and lobster boats find their way here. Any plans to make the pilgrimage for good luck? It’s like kissing the Blarney Stone. Even Taylor Swift–.

JH: We’re there!

Catch the Hillstrand brothers and Captain Sig in Portland during their live show, “An Evening with the Captains of Deadliest Catch,” September 12 at Merrill Auditorium.

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Hart to Hart star Stefanie Powers is the toast of Ogunquit in this season’s sparkling Sunset Boulevard.

By Colin W. Sargent

There was a gasp of delight in the audience at Ogunquit Playhouse when they announced you as the star of this season’s production of Sunset Boulevard…

A…gasp?

Yes, a good gasp, followed by applause. For theater fans here, your appearance will be perfect summer fun, but on another level, when you consider your love for William Holden, this role must have incredible meaning for you.

The other night I found myself thinking, Bill must be laughing.

I was on the short list of three actresses in England before the show first came to America [in 1994]. They went with Glenn Close, who did a marvellous job.

The play deserves a revival. When they came to me again because of a new version being done in the West End, I thought, Why is this project continually coming into my life, and why me, of all people? It’s a brilliant piece of work, and not just because of Billy Wilder–it’s become an opera. The irony of me being involved with it is really more than I can cope with.

You were 24 years younger than Holden was when you fell in love, so you know how much, and how little, age difference can mean. Did you ever joke about that?

It didn’t matter as far as I was concerned.

You’ve been in a cast with Tallulah Bankhead. Will you be channeling her in any way as you approach the role?

I don’t work that way. I try to find the character within my own process. It’s very individual and very personal.

You’re so “Hollywood” that you went to high school with Nancy Sinatra. But…have you been to Maine before?

No, never! I’m looking forward to it. I’ve been in Boston, Rhode Island, and Canada, but I’ve never made it to Maine. Because I’m not a winter person, I know this is the optimum time for my first visit.

Do you like lobster?

I’m a vegetarian.

You’ve managed international wildlife organizations. Recently, we asked Maine game wardens if they were using Calvin Klein’s Obsession for Men to attract big cats [for the answer, which is ‘not yet,’ see page 40 in our July / August 2010 issue]. According to a Wall Street Journal article that appeared this past June, big cats have fallen in love with the fragrance. They’ll spend more time pondering its wonders than devouring dinner. Scientists in the wild now dampen camera stands with it to help count jaguars in jungles.

That’s…the weirdest thing I’ve heard in years. I’m involved with the William Holden Wildlife Foundation and the Mount Kenya Wildlife Conservancy…I’ve worked with Jaguar International with their protection of the species. But Calvin Klein–that’s a most unique marketing campaign…

Yes. We at the magazine were wondering just how much of a jaguar’s disposable income is budgeted for manufactured fragrance. Which brings us to your perfume–not that you’re a cougar (but you are playing the original one on stage!).

We still sell Rare Orchid and stockpile it, though it’s no longer in production…It’s the first time through modern science that the fragrance of an orchid has been captured…I had the occasion to meet the head of the American Orchid Society while presenting at Harvard. I sprayed the fragrance on my arm and said, “Would you mind?”

Tell us about One from the Hart.

It’s a memoir that will be out in October, published by Simon & Schuster. It was inspired by life-changing events that happened last year. One was the loss of my mother, who shared my house in California for the last 27 years of her life. We were unusually close and great friends. We had extraordinary times together; watching the world change so rapidly in the last 10 to 15 years, it’s become almost unrecognizable.

In early 1967, you were on the cover of TV Guide, where the feature about you as the star of The Girl From U.N.C.L.E. says your “117-pound frame is kept supple with 11 minutes of Royal Canadian Air Force exercises.” What were those exercises, and when does the video come out?

The RCAF exercises are fabulous. I haven’t done them in years. They are extraordinary, extremely intense. It’s really about a half-hour workout that can be done very efficiently to keep the pilots in shape. [Powers has no trouble staying active; a competent polo player, she competed in the 2005 Joules United Kingdom National Women’s Championships at Ascot.]

When I read you were a Sarah Siddons Award winner, I thought of Bette Davis, because the Siddons Award figures so prominently in her movie All About Eve. Then I read that you played Margot Channing in Applause, based on All About Eve. Did you know Bette Davis lived here on the coast of Maine after she married Gary Merrill?

No, but I know the Mankiewicz family. Sarah Siddons really did exist. She was an actress, a soubrette. The award was invented for All About Eve, and the Chicago theatrical community adapted it, and it’s quite an honor now! It’s a charming souvenir.

Bette Davis worked as a lifeguard in Ogunquit when she was a teenager. On the other side of her career, she played at Ogunquit Playhouse.

Maine has never been in my vocabulary. But now it’s a topic of conversation…and suddenly I’ve discovered how many people are connected with Maine! There is not one person who has played Ogunquit who has not told me how fun this is.

If William Holden could attend this show, what would you tell him just before curtain?

I wouldn’t tell him anything. I’d just be glad he was there. And I think he will be.

Buy Rare Orchid from stefaniepowersonline.com for a $40 donation to the William Holden Wildlife Foundation.

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CNN anchor John King raps about pizza-filled power outages, denting trees with skis, and making his point with a bucket of lobsters.

By John King

Maine is one of the jewels of the earth and one of my favorite places to visit.

Professionally, it’s on the cutting edge of our politics; look at how more and more people are saying they resist the two-party system and wish people–and politicians–would be more pragmatic and less ideological. Well, that’s a big piece of Maine’s political culture, from [independent-thinking governors] to two Republican senators who often are critical to big national debates. I traveled [to Maine] in September 2009 for [CNN’s] State of the Union, and hearing independents raise so many questions about the Democratic health-care plan was a good lesson in where the national debate was going. I borrowed a bucket of lobsters to make a point about the political breakdown–perhaps my favorite low-tech graphics, ever!

Personally, I love the ocean and rugged terrain, so Maine has long been a favorite. I dented a few trees skiing in Bethel during my years in high school and have always enjoyed the coastal areas. A few years back, I drove from Burlington across Vermont and into Maine and ultimately down to Boston on a two-week trip to show my children the best of New England. While in Bar Harbor there was a power outage, and I remember Rosalie’s Pizza patiently staying open and feeding people (gas ovens!) and everyone just having that “so-it-goes, might-as-well-make-it-an-adventure” attitude. Plus, while Fenway is heaven on earth, going to see the Sea Dogs and getting a glimpse of a replica of the Green Monster is a great treat. And the Maine microbrews are a special [addition] to the ball-game experience!

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Watch an interview with author Karen Hofreiter on Fox’s Good Day Maine

Watch an interview with bartenders Tatum Thistle and Shahin Khojastehzad on Fox’s Good Day Maine

For Portland’s new-generation bartenders, it’s not just another Tequila Sunrise.

By Karen E. Hofreiter

They are our hosts, sympathetic ears, tour guides, and confidants. We go to them to celebrate our successes, drown our sorrows, relax from the stress of the workaday world, and warm up from the cold. They are Portland’s bartenders, a savvy and diverse group of talented ladies and gents who have kept step with the city’s rising culinary star. Here’s a toast to those who represent our heart and soul–and never let us go thirsty.

Scott Doherty

Sling spot: Vignola on Tues/Wed/Saturday

Signature drink: Old St. Rick

Roots: Born and raised in Kennebunk

Virgin beginnings: Cut his bartending teeth in Savannah, Georgia, and honed his chops in Seattle

Beyond the bar: Studied horticulture at Delaware Valley College in Doylestown, Pennsylvania. “It definitely provides inspiration. I use a lot of fresh herbs and produce in my concoctions.”

Sticking point: Permissible pyrotechnics. “I get to light things on fire–mostly citrus peels. They add a distinct caramel flavor to a drink.”

Drink nemesis: Anything with a maraschino cherry garnish. “They’re not flammable.”

Worst act committed against a customer: Beer-stabbing. “It was back in Seattle. The guy was a friend and wouldn’t shut up and finish his beer, so I took a knife and attacked the beer can so he’d have to drink it fast and pay his tab.”

‘Tender crush: John Myers [of the Corner Room]

Preferred poison: “I’m a wine and beer guy.”

If Portland were a drink: Boilermaker. “We’re a real whiskey and beer crowd, but Portland is slowly adding a little sophistication, and people are up for new things. Cocktails are becoming a bigger trend.”

Stephanie Cole

Sling spot: 51 Wharf Ultra Lounge, Thurs/Fri/Saturday

Signature drink: Pineapple Upside Down Shot

Roots: Born and raised in Westbrook

Virgin beginnings: Pool shark. “A girlfriend and I would play guys for free drinks and extra money at Fore Play Sports Pub. I got to know the owners and eventually worked my way behind the bar.”

Day job: Massage therapist

Sticking point: “Bartending is my social outlet, a break from my quieter family life. And let’s be honest: the money is addictive.“

Titanic tip: “I was working a private party for Platinum Plus [now PT’s Showclub]. At the end of the night, one of the dancers gave me a big hug and said she wanted to do something nice for me. Then she handed me a fistful of twenties. It came to $680.”

Craziest drink request: Ray Charles. “You close your eyes, grab any three bottles of liquor, and mix.”

‘Tender crush: Brad–her boss

Preferred poison: Grey Goose on the rocks with two olives

If Portland were a drink: Long Island ice tea. “Both are made up of numerous ingredients–a Long Island with all of its liquors and Portland with its diverse culture, people, shops, and restaurants.”

Marcus Verrill

Sling spot: Styxx on Mon/Saturday

Signature drink: Spree [think an adult version of the candy from your childhood]

Roots: Born and raised in Lewiston

Virgin beginnings: Margaritas in Lewiston. “I was only 15 at the time and making like $300 a night. I learned all my tricks there.” [He channels a flawless Tom Cruise from Cocktail.]

Sticking point: People. “I’m much more of a talker than a performer. My patrons often say, ‘I can tell you anything.’”

Titanic tip: A $700 car repair. “I got to the shop, and it had been totally paid for, with an anonymous note: ‘I go to your bar. I appreciate you. You deserve this.’”

Drink nemesis: Allen’s Coffee Flavored Brandy [which is incidentally the No. 1 selling liquor in Maine]. “I’m not a fan of the smell.”

Preferred poison: Strawberry-jalapeño-infused margarita

If Portland were a drink: Sex with an Alligator. “It’s a layered, rainbow shot that you suck from the bottom up with a straw. Each layer has its own distinct taste, which combine to create a surprising flavor that grows on you.”

Jeff Grundy

Sling spot: Bull Feeney’s on Tues/Thurs/Friday

Signature drink: Feeney Martini

Roots: Born and raised in Dedham, Massachusetts

Beyond the bar: Psychology degree from UMaine Orono

Virgin beginnings: The Bear Brew Pub in Orono

Titanic tip: A $164 glass of Scotch

Most disgusting drink request: Smoker’s Cough. “It was back in Orono; it’s a shot of Jägermeister with a blob of mayo.”

Preferred poison: Guinness, Irish whiskey, or Absolut Mandrin with soda and cranberry

If Portland were a drink: LaPhroaig, a Scotch from the Islay region of Ireland. “It has almost a seaweed smell when you breath it in; it’s like bottled sea air.”

Chelsea DiMillo

Sling spot: DiMillo’s Floating Restaurant on Thurs/Friday

Signature drink: Cosmopolitan

Roots: Born and raised in Portland

Claim to fame: Granddaughter of Anthony DiMillo, Old Port pioneer, restaurateur, and entrepreneur

Virgin beginnings: ‘Tending at the family business

Beyond the bar: Photography degree from USM

On tipsy tourists: Maintains her sense of humor. “They were sitting at the bar, facing the marina, and they ask, ‘Are we really floating?’ I nodded. ‘Wow. So where’s the water?’”

‘Tender crush: Ryan at Sebago Brewing Co.

Preferred poison: Raspberry Patrón margarita

If Portland were a drink: Mojito. “It’s got to be something traditional yet eclectic, and inspiring for artists; making a mojito is using simple ingredients to create something really good and different.”

Shahin Khojastehzad

Sling spot: Novare Res on Fri/Saturday

signature pour: Cantillion. “Specifically, I love the St. Lamvinus, [a lambic] made with cabernet franc and merlot grapes aged in Bordeaux barrels.”

Roots: Born in Tehran, Iran; raised in Portland since the age of four

Beyond the bar: Sociology and marketing degree from USM

Virgin beginnings: “I already had bartending experience when I walked into Novare Res two years ago. Between the Beastie Boys, their Spring Sandwich, and Old Rastputin on tap, I was hooked and bugged the owner until he hired me.”

Sticking point: A passion for craft beer. “The free beer-scouting trips to Belgium and Germany are a nice perk.”

Worst drink request: A tie between Bud Light and flavored vodka. “We serve neither, so I’ll recommend something with a similar taste profile. A Kölsch instead of Bud, or blueberry mead instead of raspberry Stoli.”

‘Tender crush: Miranda at Binga’s Stadium. “She’s my girlfriend, after all.”

Preferred poison: Bacon Bourbon Old Fashioned at Hugo’s restaurant

If Portland were a beer: “A fictional collaboration of Allagash Hugh Malone and Maine Beer Co. Peeper Ale. Allagash represents Portland’s ability to provide world-class quality products, and MBC exemplifies Portland’s environmentally minded citizens!”

Jessica Joseph

Sling spot: Local 188 on Wed/Fri/Saturday

Signature drink: White Lotus

Roots: Born and raised in Waterville

Beyond the bar: Studies photography

Virgin beginnings: An Irish pub in Denver

Sticking point: The great neighborhood crowd

Tubular tip: Special herbs. “It was weird, but when I was a bartender at Sugarloaf, I’d sometimes get tipped with tiny nuggets of weed.”

‘Tender crush: J.C. at Sonny’s. “I work with his wife here.” [Wink]

Drink nemesis: Mint julep. “They are so labor-intensive. When I worked with John Myers, he’d muddle and crush ice for like ten minutes.”

Preferred poison: Silver tequila on the rocks

If Portland were a drink: Manhattan. “It’s classic but with a bit of metro sheen, laid-back but cultured, not flashy, and simple.”

Tatum Thistle

Sling spot: The Salt Exchange on Wed/Saturday

Signature drink: Raspberry lemonade martini

Roots: Born and raised in Windham. “I’m
a townie.”

Virgin beginnings: Waitress and occasional bartender at Foreside Tavern

Day job: Part-time hair stylist

Sticking point: Freedom to be herself. “I like interacting with people, putting on a show, being animated and witty.”

Titanic tip: “Does a marriage proposal count? I’ve had a few.”

‘Tender crush: Michelle at The Snug

If Portland were a drink: Champagne. “It’s classy, bubbly, and characteristic of our fun city.”

Joe Tomazin

Sling spot: Rí Rá on Tues/Thurs/Fri/Saturday

Signature drink: Everything. “It’s about having lots to offer people and catering to them instead of showing off.”

Roots: Born and raised in Portland

Virgin beginnings: The Bear Brew Pub in Orono. “One of my best customers was Jeff Grundy. Not long after, we were bartending together.”

Beyond the bar: Degree in wildlife ecology from UMaine Orono

Sticking point: The lifestyle. “I have time to do the things I love, like skiing, mountain biking, and training for triathlons.”

(Almost) titanic tip: “A woman ordered two vodka tonics and then asked me what I wanted for a tip. Jokingly, I said, ‘two hundred dollars.’ She didn’t even pause, she just wrote ‘$200’ on the credit card bill. I was stunned. I asked her, ‘What if I had said five hundred dollars?’ ‘Well, you should have, dummy.’”

‘Tender crush: John Myers at the Corner Room and Amy at Commercial Street Pub

Preferred poison: Beer and whiskey

If Portland were a drink: Rum in the summer–“it represents the city’s nautical past and present.” Beer in the winter–“like Geary’s Hampshire Ale that used to be ‘only available when the weather sucks.’”

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A charmed restoration of a one-of-a-kind modernist residence gets it right, down to the last detail.

By Brad Favreau

Summer homes are not particularly unusual here in Maine, but the home William Burden and his wife Margaret built during the late 1940s proved to be a rarity among its neighboring seaside homes. While most ocean houses favor Colonial Revival or the Shingle Style, the Burdens dared to create a modernist gem that would soon become as essential to the Maine coast as the rocky shore or the cool, salty breezes that whip past the nearest lighthouse.

When fire struck down the house in 1998, there was no question it would be rebuilt. But as times have changed since the post-war period, so have building methods and materials. In order to recreate the house that the Burden family had always loved, a team of builders, artisans, and designers led by Boston-area architect Heinrich Hermann had to perform “some structural acrobatics” in rebuilding to meet current codes. But as talented as this team was, Fate, on more than on one occasion, played an important part in the effort to bring the house back–true and accurate–to the original.

William Armistead Moale Burden, hailing from the Vanderbilt family, was a financier, art collector, and diplomat (serving as Ambassador to Belgium from 1959 to 1961). In the late 1940s, he engaged architect Wallace Kirkman Harrison to design his summer house in Maine. Though not widely known today, during his heyday Harrison collaborated with such 20th-century architectural masters as Le Corbusier, Philip Johnson, and Eero Saarinen, all strong proponents of modernist architecture, experimenting with design that sprung from the International Style that had been defined twenty years earlier. Among Harrison’s portfolio of later works are major projects such as the Time-Life Building and the Exxon Building, both at Rockefeller Center in New York City, and the Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center in New York. Talent and credentials aside, it was likely that Burden chose Harrison because Harrison had designed the summer house of his close friend, Nelson Rockefeller.

Important to Harrison as he designed the Burdens’ house was the idea of human movement through space. With this in mind, he developed initial drawings but remained unsatisfied that he’d captured the idea properly. He turned to Japanese-American artist and designer Isamu Noguchi for help. Noguchi was known for his eagerness to work among many disciplines and in many different media, and his work was prolific. He worked in sculpture, landscape architecture, furniture design, and painting, but probably what intrigued Harrison most was Noguchi’s work as set designer for famed choreographer Martha Graham.

Harrison’s instincts proved correct. Noguchi was able to articulate the dynamic quality of design that had, to that point, eluded Harrison. His preliminary floor plan remained intact, but Noguchi’s work on the house’s elevations and cross sections lifted the design from middling to masterful. Noguchi imparted a curvilinear, sculptural elegance that gave the house a supple and relaxed appeal, and “created a choreography of movement between the living room and dining room,” says Hermann. “Once Noguchi was involved, the space took on palpable fluidity.”

For fifty years, the house remained a constant in the Burden family’s life, a dependable retreat here in Vacationland used to relax and unwind. It passed from William and Margaret to their youngest son Ordway and his wife, Jean, in 1996, and during all those years managed to maintain the character of design that Harrison and Noguchi created in 1947.

And it was about this time that Providence descended upon the house.

Elizabeth Dean Hermann, professor at Rhode Island School of Design, visited the Burden home in 1998 as part of her research on artistic identity of the 1940s and 1950s, in particular the collaboration between Wallace Harrison and Isamu Noguchi. Accompanying her that day, acting as photographer, was her husband, Heinrich. What they initially believed would be a two- or three-hour field trip lasted a full day as the pair studied the house’s design, inspecting various building details and marveling at the many subtle clues to the house’s exquisite craftsmanship.  Heinrich filled ten rolls of film, wishing he’d brought more. “I was completely captivated by the house,” he says. Not for a moment did he realize that the dozens of images he took that day would serve more than his wife’s research project. Heinrich had completely photo-documented the house, practically inch-by-inch, creating a record that would later prove indescribably important to the house’s restoration.

“Happy,” “hapless,” and “happen” all stem from the root word “hap,” which is defined as fortune or chance. If something “happens,” it suggests an occurrence of luck or kismet. Heinrich Hermann happened to go along with his wife that day and happened to photograph the house. This episode was but one of Fate’s interventions.

Fire, the cause of which remains unknown, destroyed the house the following summer. “What was left were parts of the pool and the granite chimneys,” Hermann says, along with partially melted andirons Noguchi had designed for the living room fireplace. No one was physically harmed, but the hurt of losing their beloved house prompted Jean and Ordway Burden to recreate it just as it had always been. “It was the perfect house for us,” Jean says. “It would be hard to make a better house.”

When the claim was filed, the insurance company hired an architectural firm to reproduce building plans for the house. Jean Burden, who studied architecture at Harvard University’s Graduate School of Design, sensed these plans would not be sufficient to bring her house back to its original state. She asked Hermann to review the plans, as he’d become intimately familiar with the house during his photo shoot. After careful review, Hermann confirmed they lacked many of the house’s exceptional details. Armed with a copy of Harrison’s original set of plans (which happened to have been donated to Columbia University by the project manager who’d supervised construction of the house), he traveled to the company’s headquarters in New York City.  Ready to go to battle if necessary, Hermann was astonished to find the company agreeing that the plans they’d provided were insufficient. As it turned out, one of the directors of the company, an engineer by training, happened to have interned many years earlier with Wallace Harrison. He acknowledged that a true restoration of the house was in order.

It was then that Hermann began the difficult task of reproducing the specifications for the house. Even with photographs in hand, it seemed impossible to know exactly what materials and fixtures were used originally to outfit the house. Good fortune again supplied a major piece of the puzzle. The Burdens’ nephew happened to have saved, for more than fifty years, the house’s original specifications as detailed by Harrison among his personal papers.

Knowing exactly what was used was very useful, but locating items and materials that may or may not be in production any longer was daunting. “I felt like Sherlock Holmes all the time,” Hermann says. “The Internet was helpful,” but sometimes things appear in quite unexpected places. One of the features of the house was plywood wall panels with a grooved pattern cut into the wood. These panels, called Weldtex, were sometimes found in mid-century modernist homes, but, as Hermann discovered after tracing the manufacturer through multiple changes of owners, it is no longer made. It could be custom-made, however, if he had a sample showing exactly how the grooves were cut. During this same time, he and Elizabeth were shopping for their own home in Massachusetts. While looking at a house of roughly the same vintage as the Burden home, he happened to stumble across an unfinished piece of this wood that was large enough to show the pattern. From there, he had woodworking knives specially made to mill Douglas fir plywood into the panels he needed. That small piece of plywood almost seemed to have been lying about in the basement of the house that Heinrich and Elizabeth Hermann would eventually buy, waiting for him to stop by.

Similarly, Hermann had great difficulty locating an exact match for the marble used in the master bathrooms (one his, one hers). He tracked down a lead to a stone dealer in New York City. Although this particular marble was from a long-ago-closed quarry in France, this dealer happened to have the same stone in his warehouse. These slabs were only three-quarter-inch thick, not the two-inch thick slabs used in 1947, but Hermann knew what a great find this was and purchased them. The dealer had stored this marble in his warehouse for decades, somehow unable to part with it, even turning down offers from other buyers. It was almost as though he was waiting for the right person, Heinrich Hermann, to make an offer.

While the house was being built (the first time), the Burdens had commissioned Noguchi to design a dining table that would accentuate the fluidity of the living and dining rooms. The piece he created–a beautiful birch table reminiscent of a boomerang–became a modernist furniture icon almost immediately. “It was really more like a sculpture,” says Jean Burden. “It was the heart of the house.” After the fire, all that remained were photographs and memories. Duplicating such a custom piece seemed impossible, but the house would not be the same without the table. Yet again, Fate supplied the answer to this difficult problem. During their research, Heinrich and Elizabeth discovered that the grandson of the original contractor happened to still own, after more than five decades, the plaster model that Noguchi used in 1947. A three-dimensional scan of the model, expert craftsmanship, and time provided a reproduction that is nearly indistinguishable from the original.

Time after time, Hermann and his team found circumstance yielding to extraordinary coincidence while rebuilding the Burdens’ home. It was hard work; the restoration took almost seven years (at the start it was estimated to take only two), but the Universe would see the house again stand strong against the Downeast winds. Luck, good fortune, destiny, or happenstance; whatever it’s called, it followed Hermann and the Burdens along their journey to restore Wallace Harrison and Isamu Noguchi’s vision of a modernist seaside retreat. Visitors who saw the house before the fire have since returned, and if any one of them had not known of the fire, he or she would not have realized anything changed.

Exactly as it was meant to be.

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The actress who voiced Pocahontas is out to rescue Native Americana from Hollywood’s cliches by putting the story of Maine’s iconic, silent-film star–who danced for royalty and took Paris by fire–up on the silver screen.

By Colin W. Sargent

The voice of Disney’s Pocahontas is seductive and smooth as she speaks on the telephone–exactly the impression actress Irene Bedard doesn’t want to convey, because even our politically-correct-obsessed 21st century dismisses Native Americans by over-romanticizing them.

Bedard, who bears an uncanny resemblance to Indian Island’s princess Molly Spotted Elk (born Mary Alice Nelson), dreams of producing a movie about the raven-haired beauty.

The 1920s Penobscot actress, dancer, musician, poet, and nightclub siren performed in Broadway venues, danced for European royalty, and lived the life of a glamorous ex-pat in Paris until forced to flee during World War II. It’s a story full of irony and wistfulness that Bedard first became aware of over a decade ago when she read the actress’s biography, Molly Spotted Elk: A Penobscot in Paris, by Bunny McBride, a Pulitzer Prize-nominated writer who spends summers in Bar Harbor researching and working with the Abbe Museum. The book vividly recounts the story of Maine’s Penobscot Nation and its famous daughter.

But can a film project about a gorgeous Native American starlet–”the first,” Bedard points out, who unabashedly shimmered on screen–avoid stereotypes?

Bedard knows about these dangers too well. She’s got Maine roots (her mother was an Inupiat Eskimo and her father a French Canadian/Cree from Skowhegan), and she, too, has struggled as an actress to find the courage to rise above exploitation, even from well-meaning production companies.

“It’s so funny,” says Bedard, 43, of the Disney role that made her a household voice to little girls across the globe. “Pocahontas was only eleven and a half when she met John Smith, and twelve when she threw herself over him to save him.”

So why did a politically aware woman of twenty-seven agree to play the part?

“Growing up, I loved Disney on Sunday nights. You’d see the castle and Tinkerbell going across the screen. I knew being part of something like that could be something your grandchildren will see.”

Disney or not, it was still an emotional decision. She grew up hearing the word “Pocahontas” used pejoratively. “To me, the one thing that stuck in my mind was having been called ‘Pocahontas’ in a derogatory way.” (As in, ‘Nice parallel parking, Pocahontas.’)

Besides, this serious actress had already experienced the indignation of having her character role neatly wrapped in a pretty little package in the Disney live-action film Squanto: A Warrior’s Tale.

“My first line in the movie is, ‘Was there good hunting, Squanto?’ A stereotypical line. He’d just come back from the ocean and had been gone for weeks on a hunt. Men don’t survive from this! There was this huge relief and celebration, and the very first thing she says is, ‘Squanto, was there good hunting?’ I fought the battle, and I lost the battle to a certain point. What I did was, knowing it was a Disney movie, I ran up to him and said the same words in a different way.”

Bedard’s intentional change of tone–from innocent and earnest to suggestive and coquettish–made her point, and then it went straight to the cutting-room floor. Her dialogue was edited to a single word: “Squanto!”

“But I accomplished my goal in sort of a sideways way. I learned I not only had to stand up for the personal directives of my character but also the cultural perspectives of my character. The best way was not to say, ‘No, this doesn’t work.’ It was, ‘Let me show you, let me teach you, here’s an alternative.’”

On the set of Lakota Woman, knowing Bedard was wrestling with the guilt and wonder of taking on the Pocahontas gig,“the famous Native American actress Tantoo Cardinal saw me thinking about it and said, ‘Irene, I know you. You’re strong and a native woman. I know you will fight every battle that needs to be fought. You are the right person for this job. Take it.’

“It was another ‘manifest destiny’ part. I’d just done Squanto, one of the manifest destiny characters, and now it’s Pocahontas–a manifest destiny character written into a history by the victors…[portraying Indians as those] who helped and pushed along the prevailing society. I went down and met with [Disney].”

Which brings us, after many ambitious roles and hunts for edgy, modern parts for Native American actresses, to Bedard’s dream of chasing Molly Spotted Elk and her legend to make a movie that will make a difference, that will not require “compromised truth.”

“I have started Bundle of Arrows production company. Our first projects are a couple of contemporary projects with full native cast and crew, but Molly Spotted Elk is something I’ve had in mind for so long. I’d like to work with a French production entity or director so we can shoot in Paris. Her story is epic in scale, so I need a director who can do it.”

Because Molly Spotted Elk was a gifted poet and what the Penobscots call “one of the hard ones” (that is, endowed with spiritual powers), Bedard envisions mystical interior monologue to accompany Molly’s deep story arc.

“She’s coming from this small place and going to New York City and trying to fit into the prevalent society and realizing she’s not going to be able to take what’s truly at her heart–her cultural beauty–with her, because there was no place for it to shine.”

Molly’s search for cultural acceptance eventually draws her to Paris, where–like Josephine Baker–she found appreciation for her caramel skin and unusual cultural heritage. “[It was] go to Paris, go to what’s close to your heart, you know, make this trek across the ocean to be this really exotic human being who doesn’t speak their language, yet [in daring to do this] she finds a way to become herself with her particular artistic beauty and really grow and become a beautiful, shining thing.”

Molly was happy in France, where she met and eventually married French political journalist Jean Archambaud. They had a daughter, Jean. When World War II hit France, Molly and her daughter had to flee across the Pyrenees without her husband (a known anti-Nazi activist), who was directing the Red Cross Relief efforts near Bordeaux. Molly never saw or heard from him again.

It was a turning point in Molly’s life. “She went through a real dark period and was institutionalized for a time. Then she went to New York, but her soul was damaged…I think going back to Indian Island in Maine and discovering her poetry and dance and basket weaving and the creativity–I think that idea, of walking in beauty, was her triumph in life. She learned how to find beauty on her own terms.”

Asked which scenes she’s itching to shoot first, Bedard says immediately, “I think of her being in the chorus line in vaudeville, where there’s this line of women and they move at the same time, wear the same clothes, and yet there’s something so different, so out-of-this-world, about her.

“When she fought to say, ‘Hey, I want to perform traditional dances,’ they put her in a short outfit with a feather on her head. It was such a stereotype in the shape of sexual dismissal and spiritually where she wasn’t coming from.”

As for how Bedard will avoid caricature within the Molly project, she’s going to visit Maine extensively to better understand Molly’s haunts here.

“Oh, yes. Definitely. My father actually was from Skowhegan, so I have family in Maine that I visit; in fact, I’ll be there this summer.”

Because she understands the importance of getting things right, Bedard is willing to take her time with this project.

“I’m just one woman, doing the work I can do. I don’t speak for all Native Americans because no one can. I try my best to be honest and truthful…My whole concept is to bring us into contemporary society. We’ve done the historical stories; now it’s time to be romantic, comedic, and contemporary, and a lot of Molly’s life [resonates with this].”

What might Molly tell Bedard, her fellow actor, from across the years once filming begins? “She’d tell me that loving her daughter, and the love she had for her husband, was the most important work of her life. The love of her people. For her, it’s all about finding your true heart through love and beauty.”

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New York’s got its famous heights and bright lights. L.A. has its balmy breezes and buff bods. And Maine? We’ve got the X factor that keeps ‘em coming back for more.

Compiled by Michelle Susan Twomey

“I was 15 when I came to Portland Stage…That time of life can be challenging for a young actress; you’re feeling physically awkward and unsure of yourself generally. I was so lucky to be a part of that company, including Cotter Smith, Mary McDonnell, and David Florek, with Barbara Rosoff directing. They watched over me, and it gave me a safe place to learn about the craft. I’d love to come back and perform at Portland Stage again, especially if there is a new play to work on. I loved the city then and still do; even though it was cold. It was a very special time, being on my own. The houses, the streets, the restaurants, the muffins.” –Sarah Jessica Parker, telling us about one of the first times she was allowed to go on an acting gig on her own, starring in Paula Cizmar’s Death of a Miner at Portland Stage Co. in 1982 “We were driving the coast, so to speak, I think maybe in a station wagon. [John] fell in love with…Maine. We talked excitedly in the car. We were looking for a house on the water. We did examine the place! We kept driving north along the water until I don’t really remember the name of the town. We went quite a ways up, actually, because it was so…beautiful. Exactly. It’s a beautiful, beautiful place, clean water and air.” –Yoko Ono, speaking to us about the time she and John Lennon spent searching for a summer home in Maine, with each oceanfront house more beautiful than the last “I visited Maine a few times during the years I was with the Eileen Ford Model Agency in New York. Several of us models who became friends would drive to [your] beautiful state to ski. We loved it. My most recent visit was for the opening of the PowerPay building, which is just awesome. Looking around, my first thought was, ‘The lions from the Shambala Preserve [shambala.org], which I founded in 1983, would have a great time here.’ I kept picturing them racing around, hanging out by the windows and on the stairs. I was there to support my friend Stephen Goodrich, who has done wonderful things for the people of Portland. The weather was perfect. We stayed at Portland Harbor Hotel, which is absolutely charming, and we had dinner at that church [Grace], where I had the most delicious lobster. One morning we were having breakfast outside on the wharf and this gull landed right on our table and proceeded to empty all the sugar packets! I wasn’t bothered at all; he was very friendly and very smart. They learn their tricks well!” –Tippi Hedren, star of Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds, about her recent visit The Girl in the wildly popular Dragon Tattoo, whose antisocial behavior drives the movie, shares a backstory with Hedren’s Marnie (1964). Both title characters kill their mother’s abuser in childhood, and both suffer a painful reunion with their ill parent after a long estrangement. Of course, Tippi would never be caught dead in combat boots. “She and her sister teased me and called me ‘Miss Zero’ all that fall weekend…She did tell me, ‘I’ll be writing a new book,’ so it’s really exciting to think she was here with Paradise in her head.” –Isabelle Smiles, former owner of the Pomegranate Inn, on Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist Toni Morrison’s brief stay in the West End “It’s exciting to be back at Hadlock. Unfortunately, not for this particular reason. It’s nice to see familiar faces.” –Red Sox slugger Jacoby Ellsbury during a rehab stint with the Portland Sea Dogs this season that conjured memories of his Bull Durham days here when he loved to hang out with pals at…Bingas Wingas “He is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met,” Inn on Carleton owner Philip Cox says of 30 Rock star Alec Baldwin. “He got in very late, sat right down at the bar, and talked with us like we were his family. He asked for some apple pie and a glass a milk, but we didn’t have any, so I offered to go to the market and buy him some. But if it wasn’t homemade, he wasn’t interested.” –On Alec Baldwin’s stay at the West End’s Inn on Carleton “I love Maine in the winter, and I love ice fishing, so it was the perfect marriage.” -Willem Dafoe on the getaway retreat he owns on Thompson Lake “Our time in Maine is special. It’s our retreat in the summers. I arrive and become inspired to bake pies and make jam.” –Kelly Preston, 47 and newly pregnant, about the retreat she shares with husband John Travolta in Islesboro “One day, I really felt like Maine lobster–hadn’t had it in forever. We walked and walked and walked. I can’t remember the name of the café, but it was right on the water, a funny little place. I ate an entire lobster! Jeffrey says he’s never seen me devour anything like that, with melted butter…Even now, just thinking about it, oh, God! I could die.” –Eva Marie Saint, star of Elia Kazan’s On The Waterfront and Hitchcock’s North By Northwest, on visiting Perkins Cove while performing at Ogunquit Playhouse

Doing Lunch with F. Lee Bailey

Four women walk into a bar with F. Lee Bailey…No, this isn’t a lawyer joke. It’s just another day on the coast of Maine.

Interview by Michelle Susan Twomey

You seem pretty comfortable here [at Royal River Grillhouse in Yarmouth, with views of the Royal River]. When was your first trip to Maine?

I would have trouble testifying to that because I was about six months old or younger. But I can remember being here when I was three–in the summer of 1936. My grandfather owned a modest home on Princess Point in Yarmouth. I learned to swim here in 55-degree water. In fact, I once swam to Cousins Island from Princess Point, a big feat back then. [For a Google Earth graphic of Bailey’s swim, visit portlandmonthly.com/swim.]

Your 15 minutes of Maine?

When I was eight, I strapped a bunch of pine logs together and built my first ‘boat.’ I remember being out on the water with a pole. Not long after that, I began building boats.

How many boats have you worked on?

I used to own a good chunk of Chris-Craft, so that would drive the number way up. But over the years, I’ve built five or six from scratch or rehabilitated to new.

Do you own a house in Maine right now?

I’m renting one I hope to buy. I plan to buy it.

Your ideal home here?

At least two sides would be on the water, with plenty of glass and something that looked like a control tower on the top that I could use as a study and see in all directions. I’d have a heliport adjacent to the house with a hangar so I could slide my helicopter in when I’m not using it so it wouldn’t be far away.

Yes, people associate you with helicopters almost as readily as they do clients such as Patty Hearst, O.J. Simpson, Lt. William Calley, and the Boston Strangler. How did the whole flying thing get started?

The first time I ever flew in my life was in Maine, when I was 16. I got a ride for seven dollars in York on the fourth of July. My next flight was on Eastern Airlines to go to Naval flight training in Pensacola. I was 18 then. The draft board was not pleased with my record at Harvard and threatened to induct me into the Army. To escape that, I joined the Navy and got into flight school.

Regarding helicopters, I fly them and have built 500 of them. They’re more fun than airplanes, which are sometimes fun but business tools to me.

Which brings us to your recent proposal for a business venture at the  soon-to-close Brunswick Naval Air Station complex–an aircraft refurbishment concern which has apparently stalled.

Two things. We were trying to enlarge upon an existing operation in Oxford, Maine, which did refurbishment for smaller airplanes. Oxford Aviation made an application and got a memorandum of understanding. We began to crank up. We got both senators to try to get the Navy to let us come into Brunswick Naval Air Station early–no dice.

When it turned out Oxford Aviation didn’t have the financial wherewithal to meet the demands of the authority that controls [such matters], I went out and raised the money.

Then two things happened. First, the Navy moved the date again. You can’t take on work or hire people unless you know when you can begin  to pay them.

In our view, the Navy was saying it might be September or it might be next March (which is troubling). But I did bring an investor in to put up the bulk of the money to open a Brunswick operation, which would be associated with, but not owned by, Oxford. And the day he was here, being shown around, a couple of town councilors in Brunswick gave quite uninformed interviews expressing the doubts they had about Oxford Aviation. He took one look at that and said, “If you think I’m here to fight the locals, you’re wrong…” He left the next day. So I pulled out.

At least for the time being, that deal is closed. And it’s too bad. There was potential there for a lot of jobs.

That said, what keeps you up here?

I’ve done a fair amount of writing in Maine, on other people’s boats. I’d fly to Bar Harbor or Wiscasset and board somebody else’s boat and co-captain it with them. When I wasn’t at the helm, it was a very productive place to write: no telephones, no people breaking in, looking for this or that. I wrote a very lengthy piece on the cross-examination of Mark Fuhrman after the trial was over, and I wrote most of it on the coast of Maine. I think it’s a very good place to write. I know Stephen King would agree. It’s a rough, sometimes brutal, but ultimately charming environment. I’m not a fan of the interior. If there’s not some salt water within distance, that’s not really Maine to me. I insist on the coast.

Surely people must ask you to discuss similarities you may or may not share with William Shatner’s character in Boston Legal.

I don’t find that to be flattering–a womanizing, overweight drunk. And a clown. The real star of the show is very bright and one of the most articulate people to ever play a lawyer: James Spader.

What’s your connection with Cold River Vodka? We’ve seen pictures of you in there.

I’m not a big drinker of vodka, but I have two connections with them. When I organized an 85th birthday party for one of my dear friends, a very famous pilot named Bob Hoover, I got Cold River to bottle up a couple of cases (more like six) of vodka, and I had the bottles engraved with his likeness for a commemorative gift. And for my 75th birthday, Jim Horowitz of Oxford Aviation did the same for me. So, I have a very nice box made of teak and other woods that had in it a dozen bottles of Cold River with my likeness on it.

Do you enjoy many favorite watering holes/restaurants in the area?

Yes, thanks to Debbie [Elliott, former owner of Debbie Elliott Salon & Day Spa] and my circle of friends in the last year and a half. There are a number of favorites. I like Back Bay Grill, both the Old Port and Falmouth Sea Grills, DiMillo’s, J’s. Harbor Fish is a wonderful place to be.

How about Freeport?

The Broad Arrow at the Harraseeket. I have friends who live nearby, so they help me haunt the place. We meet there a lot. We deplete their wine supply.

Have you ever considered applying for a license to practice law in Maine?

I’ve thought about it. I’m not really terribly motivated. What I want to do doesn’t involve a license. What I want to do is to make litigation services available to people who can’t afford it, which is about 95 percent of the people in Maine. And I’m talking civil cases, strictly.

I’ve spent the last ten years in mediation, consulting, and dispute resolution, and I think I’ve found ways to structure a contract  so that the resolution is built right in. It’s simple. It’s inexpensive. It’s immediate. So the contract doesn’t get interrupted while a bunch of lawyers try to figure out what to do to interrupt it further.

A lot of people could use this. Maine is certainly on its backside with unemployment, having trouble being pictured as being industry-friendly. It’s often compared to New Hampshire next door, which seems paradise by comparison in terms of tax structure. There are reasons the two shouldn’t be compared. But when people do come to Maine, if they could be assured of getting their jobs done without being interrupted or bogged down with totally destructive legal costs, I think they’d find the state more palatable.

How could you pull this off?

It doesn’t take any action by anybody. It just takes a bunch of good retired judges to act as mediators, and people willing to agree that whatever the judge says is final–that’s it, no appeals.

In Russia, I found–to my surprise–that if one of the parties breaches the contract, [that party] has to finish the contract and then sue. You cannot interrupt a work in progress. We’d walked off a job in protest that the guy who hired us was changing the rules. Even though it cost us heavily, I think that’s a good idea. Don’t interrupt the project; get your dispute on the table and have somebody decide [the legal issue concurrently] before it grows any bigger. That is the result of fifty-odd years of watching people litigate with one another. Nobody’s ever happy.

Which brings us to your guardrail swipe in Freeport.

I’ll tell you exactly what happened. I shouldn’t have been driving in that respect. My brother was dying of a fairly fast-moving cancer that had gone from the bladder to the lungs to the liver to the brain, and I was not getting much sleep as a result of that. I stayed overnight in York, drove up for an appointment in Brunswick the following morning, and dozed at the wheel just long enough to lose control of the car. I sideswiped the guardrail. I hope it didn’t damage the property of the state of Maine too much. Then I continued on to the meeting.

Let’s put it this way. They haven’t sued me, and I hope they don’t.

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Emeril Lagasse–one of us? Ayuh, it’s true–and he’s not alone. Louisiana’s best Cajun chefs have Acadia in their roots–and on
their plates.

by Robert Witkowski

Emeril Lagasse doesn’t just fill the doorway of his St. Louis Street restaurant, NOLA, in the French Quarter of New Orleans–he’s also standing at the very threshold of the place in contemporary cuisine where Acadia meets Cajun.

And there it is–“BAM!”–the realization that the very word Cajun derives from Acadian, as in the 18th-century French colonists romanticized in Longfellow’s epic poem, Evangeline, who were forced by the British to leave this neck of the woods as exiles during “Le Grand Dérangement.” Many of them settled in the New Orleans area.

Get where we’re going with this? The internationally celebrated Cajun cuisine that pan-blackened the 1980s and continues to add zest to the 21st century traces its roots directly to, well, us (not like we’re trying to take credit for it or anything).

Emeril even touts his restaurants’ sensational offerings as “true Acadian [remember Acadia National Park?] cuisine–a more refined ‘city version’ of the rustic Acadian cooking found in the rural settlements in Louisiana,” and before that, Maine and Atlantic Canada.

Born in Massachusetts and a former head chef at Sheraton Inn’s Seasons restaurant across the street from the Maine Mall in South Portland, Emeril channels New England whenever he cooks his favorite variation on Maine lobster, deftly mingling it with Cajun flair and another richly flavored tale of immigration from our shores. As he tells us:

“[Although my father’s heritage is French-Canadian], Piri Piri Pasta’s a dish I created in honor of my mom, Hilda, who is a great cook. She was the first person to show me how to cook at a young age. She grew up in a Portuguese family and loves the spicy piri piri sauce. This dish was created for my restaurant…We use live Maine lobster and make our own fresh pasta…talk about a marriage made in heaven!”

BLACKENED MAGIC

If you’re talking about the place where Acadian meets Cajun, Paul Prudhomme knows “where you at.” His family’s from up here, too, where he visits with kin at “family reunions every five years or so.” Here, the family enjoys its Acadian-Cajun heritage, and in his stomping grounds in New Orleans, Prudhomme is understanding of and sensitive to the inclusive nature of the Acadian migration to Louisiana, both in food and people. “The Acadian attitude is all about marrying [new] cultures in our family–it’s a huge gumbo.”

As Prudhomme–the man who invented pan-blackening–tells me this, he is holding court on Chartres Street at K-Paul when coincidentally a couple from Quebec walks in and tries to catch his eye. Prudhomme tosses a quick glance my way and grins, because everyone this side of Bourbon Street knows it’s a reenactment of the original flight of the French from northern Maine and maritime Canada to New Orleans in 1755. Maybe that’s why there’s an enormous oak tree in Cajun Country named Evangeline.

But is the Acadian-Cajun connection still vibrant and influential? Prudhomme says, “There’s a huge amount of travel of people from Canada coming here to visit and going north to visit there. Something that happened 180- to-200 years ago–to keep that alive you have to be into it, and work at it, and keep at it.” He motions toward a steaming plate of slow-roasted chicken with shrimp-corn-bread dressing and cheddar-cheese sauce. ”I think food is passed on to every generation, and that’s how it should be.”

Asked for “ghost” Acadian ingredients in his Cajun cuisine, Prudhomme laughs. “Ain’t no ‘cuisine’ here–we serve food! Good food! It’s always evolving.” There’s a sly smile. “I’m a Cajun, and we know we’re not food. My food is Louisiana food. It’s the best food in the world. Nothing is essential. We got a lot of dirt here, man, and at least ten months to [grow in] it. We always have something to cook.”

CREATURE FROM THE BLACKENED LAGOON

Born in a swamp outside Opelousas, Prudhomme talks with pride about how his “mother’s side of the family came from Acadia” during the 18th-century expulsion. It was at his mother’s skirt that he and his siblings learned to cook. “We come from a family that cooks, no doubt about that!”

As for where the magic comes from, “[It’s] just working. My first four restaurants failed. It was a lesson incredibly easy to understand. Then, my experience [as chef at Commander’s Palace in the Garden District] from [owner] Ella [Brennan] talking about making a buck–I learned more from her than anyone else.” He eventually decided to follow his own lucky star, which inspired him to leave Opelousas and bring with him “the andouille, the tasso, [and] the spicy-spiciness of the Cajuns,” according to local food guru Poppy Tooker, adapting his magic potions to “classic Creole recipes.” Then the movie stars and food channels started calling.

Not that Emeril, who was once Prudhomme’s James Beard Award-winning protégé, hasn’t put his spin on things. “I’m not knocking Prudhomme,” Lagasse told Nation’s Restaurant News a year before opening Emeril’s in New Orleans in 1990. “Our philosophies are just different.”

ALL ABOUT EVE

And so we are brought full circle to Old Orchard Beach-native Michael Ruoss, who impulsively moved to New Orleans and became Emeril’s star pupil and chef de cuisine at NOLA after graduating from Southern Maine Technical College’s culinary program. Now that’s an advertising success story for a famous SMTC graduate!

“I worked for Emeril for eleven years before opening this new restaurant, Catch, with Emeril’s blessing.”

So how does a Maine-born and trained chef see the evolution of French cuisine from the other side of the looking glass?

“The bridge between the food in Maine and Louisiana is the Canadian-French culture.” Ruoss goes quiet, thinking, “The low…slow…braising of proteins, creating the homemade sauces, charcuterie (the art of curing meats and making sausages to preserve over long periods of time)–the techniques are all classic French cooking. What defines the difference is what we call down here the ‘Holy Trinity’: green bell peppers, onions, and celery. These are the standard in every Cajun dish. Also, you have potatoes up north and we have rice fields.” (As for the “Holy Trinity,” we couldn’t help but notice if you substitute carrots for the peppers, you have a classic French mirepoix, which is used widely across Maine as the base for soups and stocks.)

“Chicken fricassee and chicken etouffee,” Ruoss ventures as a perfect example of the dishes evolved and shared between the two cultures. “They’re the same thing! Smothered chicken, and they’re both yummy.”

So is there really a difference? “Aside from the spicy factor, if Louisiana had potatoes instead of rice and no bell peppers, it’s a fair assumption that the food would not be very different.” Ruoss says.

But it is different. And the heat comes from more than just the peppers in this evolved culture.

“I like the culture down here in New Orleans,” Ruoss says with a broad smile. “Like Portland, it’s got its own kind of vibe.”

Asked about how the current oil spill is affecting restaurant offerings in New Orleans, Ruoss says, “It’ll take a couple years before we know the damage. Shrimp are lost and won’t reproduce. As they close down fishing areas, they get more expensive. We changed the menu. Prices are up 10%. We can eat some of [the increase], but not all of it. The biggest hit is oysters–we’re not flying in oysters from anywhere else! We’ll still get everything locally…until we can’t.”

As for watching Emeril become world-famous, he rolls his eyes and laughs. “Yeah, I noticed around the time he got married. National Inquirer reporters were following and asking me where he was getting married! ‘Give you $100 if you tell me where he’s getting married.’ I was, like, ‘No, he’s my boss!’ Plus, the corporate office issued press statements on what to say to the press for employees. I think that’s when it hit me.”

Now Ruoss is chatting it up with other celebrity chefs as his own star begins to soar. “I plated up for Lydia Shire [owner of Blue Sky on York Beach] at Carnivale du Vin which raises millions for the Emeril Lagasse Foundation.” He deadpans, Maine-style, “And I got a kiss form Alice Waters [legendary chef/owner of Chez Panisse, a training ground for Primo’s Melissa Kelly]. Alice inspired me as a young cook.”

What? No home sickness? No cravings from the North?

“Steamers! You can’t get clams down here! Clam cakes–nothing, and I still need to have Moxie mailed to me. My friend Ed Greenleaf flew down just for the weekend from Biddeford to pay off his Superbowl bet–one dollar and two cases of Moxie!” he says proudly, which can only mean he is a Saints fan.

Sadly, he didn’t bring the antidote for Moxie (which, in our opinion, is a palette-numbing absinthe chaser).

Another aspect Ruoss has brought to Catch is a deep reverence for Maine’s fishing industry. “I have farm-raised salmon flown in from Maine every week, and we have Maine foods on the menu–shepherd’s pie–and I bet we’re the only restaurant in New Orleans that has oyster crackers. It’s a little slice of Maine on Magazine Street.”

King Creole, Meet King Lobster

Lobster has always had a place in Ruoss’s heart. “We’ve gotten Maine-bought lobster as a special. I had lobster flown down from Commercial Street for New Year’s Eve at NOLA.”

And how do the Cajuns cover for their indebtedness to Maine?

“Legend has that lobsters missed the French and followed them to Louisiana, and the journey shrunk them to crawfish,” Ruoss says.

Oh. So basically they can be prepared in the same way, as in crawfish thermedor?

”Noooo, you can’t do that!” Ruoss cries, agape in horror. “Crawfish have their own taste–you…you just can’t do that.”

Now Prudhomme jumps in, vigorously shaking his head. “Those crawfish been in the mud a long time, but you can do anything the same. Don’t matter.”

Yet while northerner Ruoss defends the individual integrity of southern crawfish, Prudhomme’s respect for Maine lobster is reverential as he leans over, astonished at the concept of a lobster roll. “A roll? I don’t think I’d do that! Lobster is very special–perfect the way it is. Why change it?”

While Prudhomme’s memories of Maine are dominated by blueberry fields and unpleasant recollections of the cold, Ruoss is positively giddy at spending part of this summer with us, if possible.

“I go all over! Red’s Eats…my favorite is Fore Street–Sam Hayward does an excellent job!” (Imagine if Emeril had received such enthusiastic applause when he was here.) Ruoss continues, “Rapid Rays in Biddeford–it’s great! So much salt on everything. There’s a hamburger called The Big One.”

Ruoss’s biggest high so far happened when Presidents Bill Clinton and George H. W. Bush strolled into NOLA after Hurricane Katrina and received a standing ovation. Ruoss smiles at the memory of President Bush meeting him after a meal of smoked duck and laughing, “‘I can’t wait to tell Barbara I came all the way to New Orleans [from Maine] to have duck!’”

Asked how he might cater to Longfellow’s fictional heroine, Evangeline, should she be able to walk through K-Paul’s doors today, Prudhomme–her Cajun kin–quips, “Feed her whatever I had!” He opens his arms as if to greet her. “It’s the idea of freshness. We have no freezers. We serve whatever we have that day.”

Before he was Emeril, he was one of us!

When he said, ‘BAM!‘ I said, ‘Oh, God! That’s Emeril!’” laughs Fern Genest, 76, remembering the first time she saw Emeril John Lagasse III on television. “It was his mannerisms in the kitchen. Something was always going on.”

He was no longer the slim 21-year-old who came into her employ by landing a job at a hotel near the Portland Jetport, back when he was beneath the radar of celebrity and far from the glaring spotlight of fame–back when he was one of us. He was now Emeril®.

“I inherited him when [Dunfey Hotels] sent Emeril to us in late 1980. He had been sous chef at the Parker House in Boston,” says Genest, former general manager of the South Portland Sheraton Inn (currently Wyndham Portland Airport Hotel). “[His arrival] didn’t get nearly the fanfare he deserved. He came when we changed the restaurant to Seasons–he was part of that change. The menu had a lot of seafood creations, and in Maine, people expected heavy seafood.”

The May 1981 issue of Business Digest chimed in with stock hyperbole: “The restaurant and lounge have a new look, new menu, and new name…new executive chef Emeril Lagasse has created a menu of traditional cuisine with seasonal specialties…Seasons, which will reflect the seasons of New England, will be a hit here.”

“He was very low key, very serious about cooking, but fun–he liked to joke around. The staff loved him.” Approaching the kitchen, “I’d always hear all this noise–and then I’d walk in and it was like, ‘Mom’s home!’ It would go quiet; everything stopped.”

Genest also saw Emeril’s innovations raise the culinary experience at the Sheraton in the finest details. “It was his idea to take color pictures of the [finished] dishes and hang them in the kitchen so everyone knew what they needed to look like. If every [detail] didn’t look like the picture, it wasn’t done correctly–it was wrong, and they needed to do it again.”

“It was his first executive chef position. He was very creative but limited by corporate structure–I call it corporate interference. Everything he suggested had to be approved through our food-and-beverage guidelines. I don’t think he had a lot of control.”

With his wife, Elizabeth, Emeril began raising his family in Portland. Genest remembers, “He went on about his new baby girl! But, he was serious about his job, putting in long hours–he was there all the time.”

After her transfer, Genest tried to contact her talented chef and was told, “He’s left and gone to work for Prudhomme [at Commander’s Palace in New Orleans].” Years later, Genest’s daughter Denise, who’d also known Lagasse, insisted her mother watch a new cooking show. “I said, ‘I’ll be damned, there he is!’ It’s my granddaughter’s favorite show!”

“He was a pistol! I was amazed but not surprised [he became famous]–he had that ‘go for it.’ It was the passion he had for cooking,” Genest says with an almost maternal pride. “I am very proud of him, but he’s put on too much weight. Naughty, naughty.”

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