Bracing

Yesterday was just plain miserably cold. I went for a walk and it was not pleasant. When I came back, there was a pleasant surprise on the doorstep. Quite a while ago I ordered four books. There they were on the doorstep. Two Lidias, I now have all three, a Mario, and Jasper White's Summer Shack Cookbook. The Jasper White is incredible. FINALLY someone gives cooking times for fish and shellfish based on size and specifies which can be prepared with minimal cooking and which are dangerous to do so. It turns out that I have always been killing the shellfish by soaking in water. It gives the recipes for all of the fish and shellfish from all over the country, even Florida and California. Finally a cookbook well written by a chef that doesn't think that he is God's gift to mankind. The problem now is how to find a way to move back near the ocean. For most of my life I have lived near the ocean. Before I moved to this bucolic paradise I lived fifty yards from the ocean. I miss the bounty of the Boston Fish Pier and the fish markets of New Bedford. New Bedford probably has the freshest, tastiest fish I have ever had. Fish that needs no conglomeration of herbs and spices but allows you to revel in the taste of the sea and the texture of freshness. Is it a genetic thing? Swedes plus ocean usually meant pillaging and looting. New Englanders plus ocean usually means clambake. I feel rejuvenated near the ocean but uncomfortable on it. Probably the only rational decision I ever made was when I decided to enlist in the service. Marines were definitely out, I saw what they did to my gentle cousin, the Navy and the Air Force were out because I can swim about as good as I can fly, the Army was the answer a I am very good at digging a hole, the clambake legacy. I ended up being stationed about one half mile from the ocean and there I met the most beautiful girl in New Jersey. Three years at the country club of Fort Monmouth was easy to take, although the Army does get up rather early in the morning. The Jersey shore is a magnificent place. Wonderful seafood, a plethora of truck gardens, tomato pies not pizza, and Blue Crabs all over the place. It also has Cape May, the most relaxing place I have ever been. I won't go into the French bakery and soup shop in Cape May, that is a memory I will sit and cherish by myself. There is also the Swedish Store, the only one I have ever seen. The only bad memory I have of Cape May is that I wanted to treat someone very dear to me, so we went to what was supposed to be the best restaurant there. I ordered a steak and the waiter asked if I wanted mango chutney on the steak. I told him no, the only thing I wanted was my coat. We went to a clam shack and had crab on newspapers with mallets and striped bass steak. The advantage of being with a French woman is that she won't move two feet for mango chutney but will walk two miles to have a good meal in a hovel. Too much food talk, I am going to brave the elements and go for a walk. Walking on the beach would be nice but the beach is fifty miles away.