My Books

The Plain Maine Cookbook


The Plain Maine Cookbook is my own collection of vintage Maine recipes that will immediately bring you back to a simpler time, a less confused time.  These recipes are more than just comfort food.  They're family food, traditional food, simple food, plain food.  One bite and you'll say, "Ah, yes!  I remember my grandmother used to make this.  I had forgotten all about it!"  Maine cooking is plain and simple cooking.  It is old-fashioned and down-home cooking.  You'll find over 200 recipes, including whoopie pies, funnel cakes, fried fiddleheads, haymaker's switchel, coffee can bread, potato candy, traditional baked beans, glogg, and much more.  There is even a recipe on how to render lard.

So open the door and go back to some simple, time-tested foods you can prepare easily.  You'll find that you save money and waste less by "making do" with commodity cooking.  What's in the pantry or in the garden is what's for dinner.

Sample recipe:

NO-YEAST CINNAMON ROLLS

2 cups flour
⅔ cup milk (about)
⅓ cup sugar
½ cup raisins
4 tbs cold butter
3 tbs warm butter
2tsp baking powder
½ tsp cinnamon
½ tsp salt

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.  Combine the flour, baking powder, and salt in a food processor.  Cut in the cold butter until it is in tiny pieces.  Add the milk and combine until you have a soft dough.  How much milk depends on how dry the flour is and the humidity of the day.  Roll this out on a floured surface to ¼-inch thickness.  Cream the 3 tbs of warm butter with the sugar and cinnamon.  Spread this over the dough and then sprinkle on the raisins.  Roll up like a jelly roll and cut into ten 1-inch slices.  

Thickly butter a 13 x 9 x 2-inch pan and sprinkle on some additional sugar.  Put the rolls in cut-side down, keeping in mind they will expand some.  Bake in a hot oven for 15 minutes, then turn the heat down to 350 degrees and bake in a moderate oven for another 15 minutes.  Remove from the pan at once.

Sunday mornings seem to require sweetness, I think.  If you are a church goer, then you must wait until after the service to have these.  Anticipation can be a good thing in this case.  When I was young, sometimes we had a sweet on Sunday (usually during Lent), although not always.  Those Sundays always seemed like a holiday to me, and for the rest of the day, I expected a parade.

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You can buy The Plain Maine Cookbook from the following booksellers linked below:
 


So You Want to Move to Maine?


If you have reached your limit with the rat race and want a simpler, more wholesome life, then Maine might be the place for you. But making a move is hard; uprooting and replanting yourself can be exhausting and worrisome. You need a place to live, a job, friends, hobbies, etc. In short, you need a new life, and you need it NOW. This little book will be absolutely invaluable in helping you to make that permanent move. It will save you a lot of time because all the initial footwork is done for you, including 100 links on how to find work and living quarters, getting your driver's license, pet requirements, programs for people with disabilities, programs for senior citizens, getting married in Maine, hidden taxes and expenses, hospitals, health insurance, handling a real winter like a pro, etc.

So You Want to Move to Maine? also contains a launching platform to Maine's most precious treasure: The great outdoors. If you are interested in camping, fishing, hiking, skiing, geocaching, farming, gardening, homesteading, or prepping, this book is for YOU. The information contained herein will start you on journeys that will supply you with a lifetime of memories which cannot be had anywhere else but Maine. So stop being "just a number" or another face in the crowd. Walk away from the rat race. Become boldly individualistic and make your mark in life. You can still do that in Maine, one of the last holdouts of ordinary, old-fashioned, kind, and decent American living.

EXCERPT from the chapter on getting out of debt:  I’d like to be blunt for a minute and explain what is actually going on here.  You are on a farm.  So am I.  We are all on a farm, a very big farm.  And we are being farmed.  That’s right:  We are the livestock on this farm, and we are being farmed.  We are an asset insofar as we are useable, and to be useable we must willingly hand over our personal energy.  And one of the ways this is done is by being in debt.  Let me explain further.

Money represents energy.  You put in a certain amount of work, that is, you expend energy on a particular project or job, and for that energy expenditure, you are given a certain amount of money.  This money is a symbol for your energy.  You then trade this money for the energy expenditure of someone else.  So let’s say you work an eight-hour day doing landscape work for a large estate.  At the end of the day, you’re given, say, $160 for your labor.  You then take this money and trade it for the fruits borne of the labor of another person, such as food at the supermarket, a pair of shoes, a new hat, gas for your car, etc.  As long as it’s a fair trade, it’s okay.

Also, it must be understood (and this is where many people get confused) that money is a symbol of energy and not energy itself.  For example, a map is a symbol of territory, of actual land, but it is not land itself.  It sounds simple enough when it’s put that way.  A map can be very useful and helpful when deciding what to do with the land and how to do it, but it is not the land itself or the things on the land.  Which do you really want?  The map or the land?  Sadly, many politicians do not understand this.  And . . . which do you really want?  The money or the energy?  Sadly, many people do not understand this.

(As an aside here, you might be asking why you don’t just trade your labor for the labor of another and skip the money part altogether—cutting out the middle man in the process.  That’s called bartering, and it’s a damn good question why we don’t do more of it.  It’s not very taxable, though.  Imagine just how much the “authorities” don’t want you to do it.)

In any event, there are a few problems here.  One is that some people make an inordinate amount of money that vastly outweighs the energy put into their work, and other people make far less money than the amount of energy they have expended.  This is done on purpose, and it is a means to perpetuate the existence of the farm.  There are those who will do whatever it takes—legal or illegal—to get themselves into the position of making more money than energy expended, and if this means screwing you over badly, then that’s what it means—badly.  Those kept on the bottom grow angry or petulant or depressed.  This, too, keeps the farm running as it’s supposed to.  Those on the bottom continue to grudgingly work or slip into homelessness, serving as an example to those just one rung higher of what can happen if they don’t obey.  And the farm continues.

Then there is the middle man, the one who takes his cut from every single creature being farmed.  He knows he’s on the farm and he knows he’s being farmed too, but he is the foreman and he gets more cash-energy for it.  If he’s sadistic, so much the better for the farm.  There are many, many foremen, of course, but the number of workers beneath them are legion. 

Then there are the owners of the farm itself, whose number is very few.  They don’t work at all, but they do scheme.  They have an unlimited supply of energy in the form of money available to them, provided endlessly by people like you and me—and they haven’t had to work to get any of it.  Their forefathers set the farm up, and they have inherited it and expanded it.  Money is just one form of energy they collect.  They also collect psychological and emotional energy.  This is a little trickier to get, but it’s the part the farm owners love best.  Most of the farm workers don’t even know they’re being harvested in this way. 

Emotional and psychological energy is garnered in many ways.  Fear porn, doom porn, propaganda, movies and TV shows, etc., all elicit energy from us if we’re not on guard watching for it.  These things also guide—or dictate, really—much of our behavior.  Fear and sorrow and hopelessness keep us in our place on the farm, firmly rooted in our often dead-end jobs.  While there are those who do have jobs they truly enjoy, they still are not immune to the fear and doom and propaganda that face us all everywhere we turn in life.

Picture this:  You watch an unsolved murder on TV and it makes you “real-ize” how dangerous the world is—more dangerous than you thought.  Your insides are tied in a knot over the details of the heinous crime.  You can’t get the images out of your mind as you go into the kitchen to put the dinner dishes away.  Somehow you decide that maybe camping in that remote area isn’t such a great idea after all, so you make a mental note to change your plans.  Maybe a trip to a theme park would be better.  And safer.  And there’d be lots of “thrills” that way with a chance to release all of that pent-up energy you and the kids have . . .  

The train of thought goes on . . . the kids . . . you worry them about endlessly . . . you helicopter around them 24/7 . . . images of the murder you saw on TV . . . you should probably get that new alarm system put it in, the one you’ve been thinking and worrying about . . . and you’re just so exhausted and you’ve got this terrible headache . . . why doesn’t anyone else do any work around here?? . . . well, it’s time for bed now anyway . . . just get tomorrow’s workday over and done with . . . don’t rock the boat . . . forget about asking for a raise . . . like you’d really get one . . . images of the protest on the nightly news and the broken glass and burning buildings . . . it’s just not worth the aggravation . . . nothing is worth anything . . . trapped . . . sorrow and tears . . .

Congratulations!  You’ve just been harvested.  You’re going to stay in your place and do exactly what you’re told because you believe you haven’t got a choice, and you’re exhausted and your nerves are fried.  You’re going to spend your physical money-energy exactly as suggested to you.  And somehow, somewhere, in some way, that emotional and psychological energy you also just expended has been siphoned . . . and someone else has it.  I’m not privy to all of the disgusting details, but I’d bet the farm it happens.  Sounds a little weird, doesn’t it?  Or maybe it sounds too close for comfort.

In any event, you can bet in a merchant-run system like this, the creatures being farmed are never going to win.  NEVER.  Do you hear me?  They might end up in a prettier part of the barnyard, but they’re still on the farm.  The only way to end all of this is to destroy the entire structure of the farm, and believe me, there are people working on that, but I’m not so certain that what they have in mind will be any better.  I am not a socialist.  In any event, being aware is the first step to navigating toward your independence, or as much of it as you can get in this lifetime.

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You can buy "So You Want to Move to Maine?" from the following booksellers linked below:

 Amazon     Lulu 
 



Fairy Tales of Maine

Fairy Tales of Maine (paperback) contains 37 unique fairy tales that will delight both adults and children as they can be read and interpreted on many levels.  Even though these tales are fiction, we all know that they’re really not.  Somewhere in a tale is a timeless Truth that will not be denied.  And that is why we love fairy tales so much.  They haven’t got anything to prove because they are the proof.

But if you are looking for only sweet tales that end in joy and fairness, you may want to pass this book by.  Some fairy tales are simply “dark,” and that is because sometimes life is simply dark.  Not always, of course, but often enough.   Sometimes the hero lives; sometimes he dies.

Fairy tales speak to the secret parts of us that we hide from others, so if you are brave, you might meet yourself in one of these pages.

EXCERPT:  There once was a seagull who was smitten with an owl.  Every day he came to visit her, bringing her bits of fish and other fine things to nibble on, and every day she refused him.  The more she refused him, the more he came to visit.  Sometimes he would sing songs to her in his strange gull language, which was full of wails and cries and eerie sounds, as gulls are wont to do.  She never acknowledged his songs with so much as a “who who.”

Other times the seagull would perform daring feats of flight above the owl, now dashing downward or slicing upward through the sky in an attempt to impress her.  But she snubbed him every time, ignoring his advances and remaining as rigid as stone.  The gull was at last heartbroken, but still he came to visit her daily, facing in the opposite direction so as not to upset her.

One afternoon an old farmer came walking toward the dock.  Upon seeing the gull, he shook his fist and yelled and screamed to chase the gull away.  He did not like gulls on his dock at all because they are not known to be the cleanest of birds.  The gull flew off to the next dock and watched from a safe distance.

The farmer went up to the owl and picked her up and tucked her under his arm.  Then he walked a distance on the dock and set her down again.  The owl never said a word or made a movement.

“Now you chase those gulls away, girl,” the old farmer said, “or I’ll bring you back to where I got you!”

Then he walked away up the dock, grumbling under his breath, “Lousiest decoy I ever had . . .”

As soon as he left, the seagull swooped back onto the dock and got very close to the owl.

“Oh, my darling,” he said, “I had no idea how much of yourself you had sacrificed just to let me stay here.  Truly, I will love you forever!  Now I understand, my love, and you needn’t ever say a word.”

And with that, the seagull sat down very close to the owl, and she sat very close to him.  Neither said a word, but there was an understanding between them.  To this day, I am told, the visits continue.

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You can buy Fairy Tales of Maine from the following booksellers linked below:

Amazon     Lulu


 

The Tales of Persephone

Here is the long-awaited e-book, The Tales of Persephone, a retelling of the ancient Eleusinian Mysteries.  It was originally published in 13 different segments on this blog, which were all removed about nine weeks after the last one was published.  The story in its entirety is now only available in this book. 

Follow Persephone as she comes to life again (what she does best, after all) in this retelling of the Bronze Age religion of ancient Greece.  This story of the human journey through the wisdom of the four seasons breathes new life into the archetypal guide that was left to us thousands of years ago.  The map is still there.


EXCERPT

"Down deep and snug in the underworld, Persephone sat on a diamond throne in a marble palace built just for her.  All around her, gems gleamed and sparkled in the walls.  She sipped her blackened wine and felt the coolness of the magic of fermentation as it touched her throat.  All is as it should be, she thought.

And yet somewhere . . . in her mind? in her heart? in her body? . . . she heard the faintest of sounds, the tinkling of a tiny bell.  Over and over the sweet little bell chimed mystically and hauntingly, barely audible.  She arose from her throne and searched the great hall but found nothing.  Yet she knew that whatever she was looking for would not be found in the great hall.

In a tiny chamber just outside of her bedroom, where she stored many of her precious gems, there was a small door in the very back.  It was an old chamber and an old door, and she was quite certain that no one knew of this door, save her.  Not even the Lord of Winter knew, so it must have been a great secret, indeed.  In fact, she had all but forgotten about it herself.  It was to this door that she felt herself drawn, listening to the faint tinkling of the bell.

When she opened the door, she found a small passageway into the raw Earth, just as she had left it so long ago--so long that she could not remember when.  She stepped into the passageway and closed the door.  There, all the raw gems and stark uncut beauty of the Underworld gleamed before her.  She felt herself charmed, once again, and drawn to the cool beauty of the gems, which she reached out to touch and savor.

Until she heard the tiny bell again.  Come back to me."

You can buy "The Tales of Persephone" from the following booksellers linked below:

Amazon     Lulu     iBookstore    Barnes & Noble     Kobo 







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