Outliers Eatery (I'm dropping the "eatery" from here on as I don't think anyone will use it anyway) has finally opened in the West End near the Casco Bay bridge on York Street a few blocks west of El Reyo. It is located where Popeye's Tavern used to be. You remember Popeye's don't you? The place with the airplane sticking out of the roof which happened to be the only redeeming thing about the place. Notice I said it's located where Popeye's used to be instead of saying it's located in the old Popeye's space. This is deliberate as this is not the former space. This was a complete gut job inside and out. The only things that remains from the former place is the address at 231 York St.
Brought to you by the same people who designed Grace, the space itself is very hip, modern and comfortable at the same time. Like Grace, it is well worth the trip just to see the build-out. Approaching from the outside, the initial feeling is of a New England cape with shingled siding but a closer look belies what awaits inside. There's lot's of glass for those Casco Bay Bridge, harbor and park across the street, views. There's the front deck with the stainless steel and cable railing. Yeah, this is not going to be a run of the mill cape. You walk inside and have the dining room to the right with a banquette running the length of the far wall. Great colors and a cool sculpture on the wall above. You only see this part of the inside if you didn't first look left toward the bar. If you did, you naturally want to walk that way to check out just how high the carved wavy wood paneling actually goes up - my guess is about 25 feet. With it's lighting, it's quite dramatic.
On our first visit TA and I sat along the wall in the dining room. Very comfortable although we did think it was a little loud - to be fair, at my age every place is starting to sound a little loud. As she had already eaten, I was going to sample a couple of apps. The menu comes to you as sheets on a clipboard. Only a very small section (maybe a 4 inch by 6 inch square) on page 1 is devoted to food with apps on one side and entrees on the other (many sheets devoted to drinks). There's really no description of the food, just words like "pig ears" or "oysters" so if you want more details like how something is prepared or what comes with it, you have to ask. I hope they change this as, even though the servers have all been knowledgeable and friendly, I think it wastes time. Not that I want to be rushed but I could easily see a four top requiring a description of every single item on the menu and not because they're jerks but because they want to know what they're ordering. Anyway, I had the pig ears which are served with a hoisin sauce. These are tasty and, well, kinda fun, as where else in Portland are they serving pig ears? I also had a crab salad served over white asparagus. This was so good that I was thinking about it days later. It had a ton of crab and the asparagus was perfectly cooked. A beer from one of the, I think, 12 taps and I was satisfied. TA had a nice glass of wine - there are many to chose from by the glass.
On our next visit we sat on the deck with NP, one of our sons. Great spot until TA took my light jacket as the sun set and it got chilly. We again got the pig ears. Again, they were very good. Nice oysters - I forget where they were from but definitely Maine. Grilled squid, charcuterie plate, a soup, a salad, and a salmon cake/croquette type dish filled our table to overflowing. The crab salad wasn't there this time - the menu changes regularly. The biggest hit of the evening was a chocolate dessert recommended highly by our server. I forget what it was called but it was like two slices of a firm mousse with raspberries and whipped cream. It was light enough be make me feel OK about myself in the morning. Overall, some dishes were better than others but the place is new and well on their way to working out those inevitable new place kinks of which there were very few. The beer list is a good one and although I didn't look too closely at the wines, that particular list was fairly extensive. There are some interesting house cocktails which the table next to us was enjoying. There are also some beer cocktails which I plan on trying once I build up the nerve. On a nice night, outside on the deck will be the place to be.
And then there's the restrooms. That's right, the restrooms. TA used the ladies room and came back to the table saying what a wonderful experience it was, especially having individual towels to dry up with after washing ones hands. NP returns after using the men's room with a smile on his face saying "you've got to check it out". Where the ladies room is very lady-like, the men's room is a tribute to all things Hunter S. Thompson complete with a "pay phone" that you need to pick up and listen to the recording. A fun restroom that's worth visiting (many women were "peeking" inside), go figure.
Overall, I think this will be another hit on the Portland food scene. I also think it will attract more locals who are willing to dare to cross State Street from the Old Port as well as us walkers from the West End. A very cool place in an outlying location. Hey, maybe that's how they came up with the name! Go ahead, risk it and go the few blocks past El Reyo on York St. You'll be glad you did.
Monday, May 27, 2013
Friday, May 24, 2013
Corbels in the West End. Yeah, Corbels.
According to Wikipedia, and really, who doesn't use Wikipedia?: In architecture a corbel or console is a structural piece of stone, wood or metal jutting from a wall to carry a superincumbent weight, a type of bracket. A corbel is a solid piece of material in the wall, whereas a console is a piece applied to the structure.
I was not always into corbels. That's a fairly recent phenomenon for me. While redoing our kitchen, I came across the need for some kind of bracket to hold up a bar and started looking online. That's how I got into corbels. I found what I was looking for fairly quick but then, having my senses tuned into corbels, I started noticing them everywhere during my walks around town. Big corbels, small corbels, intricate and simple corbels. If you walk around an older neighborhood like Portland's West End, you'll see corbels on many of the houses. Even the dumpy homes have some really cool architectural features, complete with corbels, from back in the day before there was such a thing as section 8 and all homes were built by craftsmen who took some kind of pride in their work.
Here's a small sample from a short walk taken by my not-an-I phone.
So there you have it, all in just a 2 block walk in the west end. And be advised that these were not super fancy million dollar homes. Most were multi-unit dwellings where regular folk live. Maybe I'm a little nuts but I think corbels are cool. Next time you're walking the neighborhood take a look at all the corbels around you and I'm sure you too will become a fan.
Monday, May 20, 2013
When the Kid Picks up the Tab
When the Kid Picks up the Tab
It was 30 years ago that I came back home to New York from California for a visit. I had a real job and was actually making enough money that I was intent on taking my parents out for a nice dinner and for the first time ever, picking up the tab. For several reasons we couldn't pull it together while I was in town but I left $100 on my dad's nightstand with a note to take mom out to dinner on me. Of course, according to my mom, he was going to send the money back to me but she convinced him that it would mean a lot to me if I got to buy them a nice dinner. So out they went for an enjoyable meal of stuffed lobsters and I got to pay - just in time - as my father unexpectedly died later that week (I don't think the meal I treated them to had anything to do with dad's demise - imagine the guilt I'd have had to endure - I think it was more likely the four packs of cigarettes he smoked each day). I'd have preferred to have been there picking up the tab but in some ways knowing my parents had a nice meal on me gives me just as good of a feeling all these years later. Thirty years ago I didn't give much thought to what my parents spoke about at dinner but, today, I'd like to think the conversation centered on them being proud that their boy turned out OK.
Since then I really believe that the picking up of the tab by a kid is as much a rite of passage to adulthood as pretty much anything else. What makes me think of this now is that our second oldest, NP, was in town the other day and he and I went out for a bite at Outliers, the new restaurant in the old Popeye's space (the dive with the airplane sticking out of the roof - the new place is nothing like the old - they've done a great job with the place). TA met us there after she got out of a late meeting. After a few drinks and just about every small plate on the menu, NP announces that he wants to "...get this one" when the tab arrives. Like most parents, my first thought was that he really couldn't afford to pay. That thought was not just a gut feeling, rather it was based on the fact that the main reason for his visit in the first place was to take his car to the shop for much needed work for which I was paying as he couldn't afford that particular tab. Putting aside the irony of the situation I did as I now advise all parents to allow their adult children to do. I let him pick up the tab.
I think we're now four out of five for our kids picking up a tab or two. Not too shabby. KR first picked up a parking lot tab in Boston's North End which was almost as much as dinner. He has since regularly paid for lunch or bar tabs when we've gone out together - he's a good kid. AIR, the "successful one", is very generous and even though I'm always extolling him to save his money, he will often "fight" me for the bill. I win most of the time and it is a fun game we play as we both know I'm usually going to pay regardless. Once in a while, I call his bluff and stick him with the tab. He's another one of our kids who will borrow money from me on Monday and take me out on Tuesday. I figure it's pretty much the only way I have to get my money back so I just go with it. Even the daughter, LJ, has taken me out for a bite. Yup, since I'm a modern kinda guy, it's OK with me for my little girl to buy me lunch or dinner once in a while.
We're still waiting on JP to pick up the tab and we figure we'll be waiting a little longer as he's pretty much broke but, unlike the others, he asks for nothing from us and he busts his ass working two jobs to get by. He's also our favorite so we cut him some slack. Now some of you are probably shocked that I just declared a "favorite" child but we all have a favorite whether we admit it or not. We're just being honest with our kids so they don't have to argue after we're gone about which one was mom and dad's favorite. I like to think we're just saving them a bitter fight. Alright, I take it all back. We don't have a favorite. We love you all just the same (wink, nod). Actually, TA and I have different favorites. Anyway, JP will be there soon enough and when he can even barely afford to pay for dinner, I intend to let him. As for NP buying this week, I know the $100 tab doesn't offset the $400 car repair bill but he felt good about it and so did TA and I. And if I should drop dead before the end of the week, it's good to know that 30 years from now, he'll be glad that he had the opportunity to take his parents out for a nice bite to eat.
It was 30 years ago that I came back home to New York from California for a visit. I had a real job and was actually making enough money that I was intent on taking my parents out for a nice dinner and for the first time ever, picking up the tab. For several reasons we couldn't pull it together while I was in town but I left $100 on my dad's nightstand with a note to take mom out to dinner on me. Of course, according to my mom, he was going to send the money back to me but she convinced him that it would mean a lot to me if I got to buy them a nice dinner. So out they went for an enjoyable meal of stuffed lobsters and I got to pay - just in time - as my father unexpectedly died later that week (I don't think the meal I treated them to had anything to do with dad's demise - imagine the guilt I'd have had to endure - I think it was more likely the four packs of cigarettes he smoked each day). I'd have preferred to have been there picking up the tab but in some ways knowing my parents had a nice meal on me gives me just as good of a feeling all these years later. Thirty years ago I didn't give much thought to what my parents spoke about at dinner but, today, I'd like to think the conversation centered on them being proud that their boy turned out OK.
Since then I really believe that the picking up of the tab by a kid is as much a rite of passage to adulthood as pretty much anything else. What makes me think of this now is that our second oldest, NP, was in town the other day and he and I went out for a bite at Outliers, the new restaurant in the old Popeye's space (the dive with the airplane sticking out of the roof - the new place is nothing like the old - they've done a great job with the place). TA met us there after she got out of a late meeting. After a few drinks and just about every small plate on the menu, NP announces that he wants to "...get this one" when the tab arrives. Like most parents, my first thought was that he really couldn't afford to pay. That thought was not just a gut feeling, rather it was based on the fact that the main reason for his visit in the first place was to take his car to the shop for much needed work for which I was paying as he couldn't afford that particular tab. Putting aside the irony of the situation I did as I now advise all parents to allow their adult children to do. I let him pick up the tab.
I think we're now four out of five for our kids picking up a tab or two. Not too shabby. KR first picked up a parking lot tab in Boston's North End which was almost as much as dinner. He has since regularly paid for lunch or bar tabs when we've gone out together - he's a good kid. AIR, the "successful one", is very generous and even though I'm always extolling him to save his money, he will often "fight" me for the bill. I win most of the time and it is a fun game we play as we both know I'm usually going to pay regardless. Once in a while, I call his bluff and stick him with the tab. He's another one of our kids who will borrow money from me on Monday and take me out on Tuesday. I figure it's pretty much the only way I have to get my money back so I just go with it. Even the daughter, LJ, has taken me out for a bite. Yup, since I'm a modern kinda guy, it's OK with me for my little girl to buy me lunch or dinner once in a while.
We're still waiting on JP to pick up the tab and we figure we'll be waiting a little longer as he's pretty much broke but, unlike the others, he asks for nothing from us and he busts his ass working two jobs to get by. He's also our favorite so we cut him some slack. Now some of you are probably shocked that I just declared a "favorite" child but we all have a favorite whether we admit it or not. We're just being honest with our kids so they don't have to argue after we're gone about which one was mom and dad's favorite. I like to think we're just saving them a bitter fight. Alright, I take it all back. We don't have a favorite. We love you all just the same (wink, nod). Actually, TA and I have different favorites. Anyway, JP will be there soon enough and when he can even barely afford to pay for dinner, I intend to let him. As for NP buying this week, I know the $100 tab doesn't offset the $400 car repair bill but he felt good about it and so did TA and I. And if I should drop dead before the end of the week, it's good to know that 30 years from now, he'll be glad that he had the opportunity to take his parents out for a nice bite to eat.
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Po' Boys & Pickles review
Po' Boys & Pickles
Po' Boys & Pickles is one of those places that I love almost in spite of itself. First, there's the location on Forest Ave near Morrell's Corner, a particularly unattractive area of the city. Then there's the building itself which used to be a D'Angelo's sandwich shop which means that whatever goes into that location until the end of time, it will forever look like a D'Angelo's sandwich shop. Add to that the sometimes death defying driving one has to do just to get into the parking lot during peak traffic periods and you've hit the trifecta of things working against the place.
In spite of all it has working against it, Po' Boys & Pickles has one thing working for it; they make some of the best sandwiches in the city. Once you get past the location and the building itself, you enter into what unfortunately still resembles a D'Angelo's sandwich shop even though it's been spruced up a bit with a TV and some poster sized pics of New Orleans and, although I don't remember specifically seeing any, I'm willing to bet there are some Mardi Gras beads hanging somewhere. You order and pay for your food at the counter. Very friendly service. Basically, it's comfortable enough to eat your sandwich inside but I most often get my food to go.
The Po' Boys are their specialties. If you haven't eaten down on the Bayou before, a Po' Boy is what they call a sub (or an Italian, hoagie, grinder, etc.) in Louisiana. Regardless what they're called, these are some tasty sandwiches. Starting with my favorite, the creole sausage with lettuce, tomato, roasted red peppers, onions and their red pepper mayo, this is not for someone on a diet. The sausage is shipped up from Louisiana and has just enough kick, combined with the mayo and other ingredients on a nice roll, to take care of any hunger. Other favorites are the pulled pork with Cajun coleslaw which is usually a hit with the less adventurous eaters. The blackened fish and fried oyster Po' Boys are also very good but I'd eat those in as the seafood doesn't travel as well. A buddy of mine always gets the dirty bird, a sort of chicken club and he swears by it. There's the Ray Nagin, Muffaletta and the debris po' boys - all with some interesting combinations. Most of the sandwiches come small or large. Small is half the size of a large - think Subway 6" vs 12" - but more than half the price. If two of you are going to have the same sandwich, you order one large and they'll gladly wrap up the split halves separately. You'll save a bit doing that - which they actually encourage. My creole sausage is $6.35 for a small and $11.00 for a large. Two of us split a large and it's down to $5.50 each which is a good deal as a small is plenty for all but the biggest appetites.
I'm not a big fan of their fries and I haven't tried their salads as they appear to be borderline healthy and I ain't eating at this place for health reasons. Each sandwich comes with a little cup of pickles which are pretty good. For dessert, there's a toffee pudding which looks decadent and another friend raves about their coconut macaroons but I haven't tried either. You can get a limited variety of beer both on tap and in bottles.
Oh yeah, one last thing. The sandwiches are incredibly messy. You have to be careful when eating one. Get a firm grip on the sandwich or you risk taking a first bite only to find that half the ingredients just plopped out of the other side of the sandwich. I'm sure we've all had this happen in our lifetime. Do not, I repeat do not, try as I once did and eat one while driving. It may not be as dangerous as texting but it's pretty damn close.
To summarize: if you're in an ugly part of town and want a really great sandwich in a no-frills setting, Po' Boys & Pickles is well worth the stop.
Po' Boys & Pickles is one of those places that I love almost in spite of itself. First, there's the location on Forest Ave near Morrell's Corner, a particularly unattractive area of the city. Then there's the building itself which used to be a D'Angelo's sandwich shop which means that whatever goes into that location until the end of time, it will forever look like a D'Angelo's sandwich shop. Add to that the sometimes death defying driving one has to do just to get into the parking lot during peak traffic periods and you've hit the trifecta of things working against the place.
In spite of all it has working against it, Po' Boys & Pickles has one thing working for it; they make some of the best sandwiches in the city. Once you get past the location and the building itself, you enter into what unfortunately still resembles a D'Angelo's sandwich shop even though it's been spruced up a bit with a TV and some poster sized pics of New Orleans and, although I don't remember specifically seeing any, I'm willing to bet there are some Mardi Gras beads hanging somewhere. You order and pay for your food at the counter. Very friendly service. Basically, it's comfortable enough to eat your sandwich inside but I most often get my food to go.
The Po' Boys are their specialties. If you haven't eaten down on the Bayou before, a Po' Boy is what they call a sub (or an Italian, hoagie, grinder, etc.) in Louisiana. Regardless what they're called, these are some tasty sandwiches. Starting with my favorite, the creole sausage with lettuce, tomato, roasted red peppers, onions and their red pepper mayo, this is not for someone on a diet. The sausage is shipped up from Louisiana and has just enough kick, combined with the mayo and other ingredients on a nice roll, to take care of any hunger. Other favorites are the pulled pork with Cajun coleslaw which is usually a hit with the less adventurous eaters. The blackened fish and fried oyster Po' Boys are also very good but I'd eat those in as the seafood doesn't travel as well. A buddy of mine always gets the dirty bird, a sort of chicken club and he swears by it. There's the Ray Nagin, Muffaletta and the debris po' boys - all with some interesting combinations. Most of the sandwiches come small or large. Small is half the size of a large - think Subway 6" vs 12" - but more than half the price. If two of you are going to have the same sandwich, you order one large and they'll gladly wrap up the split halves separately. You'll save a bit doing that - which they actually encourage. My creole sausage is $6.35 for a small and $11.00 for a large. Two of us split a large and it's down to $5.50 each which is a good deal as a small is plenty for all but the biggest appetites.
I'm not a big fan of their fries and I haven't tried their salads as they appear to be borderline healthy and I ain't eating at this place for health reasons. Each sandwich comes with a little cup of pickles which are pretty good. For dessert, there's a toffee pudding which looks decadent and another friend raves about their coconut macaroons but I haven't tried either. You can get a limited variety of beer both on tap and in bottles.
Oh yeah, one last thing. The sandwiches are incredibly messy. You have to be careful when eating one. Get a firm grip on the sandwich or you risk taking a first bite only to find that half the ingredients just plopped out of the other side of the sandwich. I'm sure we've all had this happen in our lifetime. Do not, I repeat do not, try as I once did and eat one while driving. It may not be as dangerous as texting but it's pretty damn close.
To summarize: if you're in an ugly part of town and want a really great sandwich in a no-frills setting, Po' Boys & Pickles is well worth the stop.
Friday, May 17, 2013
About my food reviews...
My food reviews.
My first thought was to call this post "About my restaurant reviews..." but, as I eat at so many places that I don't think really qualify as restaurants, places like hot dog carts and food trucks, I decided to go with "food reviews".
The first thing the reader needs to understand is that I really do not know what I'm talking about when I review food. Flavor profile? Is that when you look at a flavor from the side? A good palate? I dropped something like $4000 at the orthodontist on, among other things, having my son's palate widened but I don't recall my parents spending a dime on my palate so I'm not sure how good mine is. I wouldn't know a soux vide if it hit me in the face and if we start getting crazy into the molecular gastronomy thing, then I'm really lost. I always confuse sour and tart and it took me years and hundreds upon hundreds of beers before I understood what a hoppy beer tasted like. I know, I know. If you're a beer drinker, I just lost all your respect but, as I said before, I really don't know what I'm talking about. I'm just being honest here.
What I think I know is what tastes good to me and what I've found is, more often than not, what tastes good to me seems to taste good to other people that I talk with. So this is the basis for which I demand culinary respect - the stuff I like is usually liked by others and the stuff I don't care for is usually not liked by others. When you come down to it, I think that might be the fairest way to judge a critic of any kind. If 99 out of 100 people who view a painting think it sucks but the one guy who loves it happens to be the New York Times Art critic (I really don't know if the Times actually has an art critic), guess what? The painting still sucks. Same with food.
Other things count. That's right, things that don't include the food. The decor. The service. The history of a place. Yup, the history. The Union Oyster House in Boston is really not good but if you do it right by sitting at the original bar having some oysters and a beer or two in the same spot where there was once talk of revolting against England and many really big names once sat, names like Adams and Kennedy, yeah... in my book you get points for that. Le Procope in Paris is over rated but hell, Ben Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, and Voltaire used to eat there. Freakn' Voltaire for goodness sake! I'm not really sure what he did but where the hell else are you going to eat in the same place where Voltaire used to hang out? The answer? No where else so... that's why you have to eat at Le Procope next time you're passing through Paris. Getting a little closer to home, that's why, when I need a hot dog from a cart on the street, and sometimes I really do NEED a street cart hot dog, I go to Marks on Middle St. There may be other dogs that are just as good but Mark has been there for something like 30 years. Thirty years in the same spot selling hot dogs. Extra credit for sure.
Finally, money counts. I have different expectations at different price points. The food at Silly's is never going to be as good as the food at Fore Street but then again, I'm going to drop three times the cash at Fore Street so my expectations are about three times what I expect at Silly's. That's why a place like Otto can get a great review for a $3.50 slice and a place with a tastier $30 entree might garner less praise.
There you have it. My very general guidelines for reviewing food and why you should listen to what I have to say. Trust me. Have I ever steered you in the wrong direction?
My first thought was to call this post "About my restaurant reviews..." but, as I eat at so many places that I don't think really qualify as restaurants, places like hot dog carts and food trucks, I decided to go with "food reviews".
The first thing the reader needs to understand is that I really do not know what I'm talking about when I review food. Flavor profile? Is that when you look at a flavor from the side? A good palate? I dropped something like $4000 at the orthodontist on, among other things, having my son's palate widened but I don't recall my parents spending a dime on my palate so I'm not sure how good mine is. I wouldn't know a soux vide if it hit me in the face and if we start getting crazy into the molecular gastronomy thing, then I'm really lost. I always confuse sour and tart and it took me years and hundreds upon hundreds of beers before I understood what a hoppy beer tasted like. I know, I know. If you're a beer drinker, I just lost all your respect but, as I said before, I really don't know what I'm talking about. I'm just being honest here.
What I think I know is what tastes good to me and what I've found is, more often than not, what tastes good to me seems to taste good to other people that I talk with. So this is the basis for which I demand culinary respect - the stuff I like is usually liked by others and the stuff I don't care for is usually not liked by others. When you come down to it, I think that might be the fairest way to judge a critic of any kind. If 99 out of 100 people who view a painting think it sucks but the one guy who loves it happens to be the New York Times Art critic (I really don't know if the Times actually has an art critic), guess what? The painting still sucks. Same with food.
Other things count. That's right, things that don't include the food. The decor. The service. The history of a place. Yup, the history. The Union Oyster House in Boston is really not good but if you do it right by sitting at the original bar having some oysters and a beer or two in the same spot where there was once talk of revolting against England and many really big names once sat, names like Adams and Kennedy, yeah... in my book you get points for that. Le Procope in Paris is over rated but hell, Ben Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, and Voltaire used to eat there. Freakn' Voltaire for goodness sake! I'm not really sure what he did but where the hell else are you going to eat in the same place where Voltaire used to hang out? The answer? No where else so... that's why you have to eat at Le Procope next time you're passing through Paris. Getting a little closer to home, that's why, when I need a hot dog from a cart on the street, and sometimes I really do NEED a street cart hot dog, I go to Marks on Middle St. There may be other dogs that are just as good but Mark has been there for something like 30 years. Thirty years in the same spot selling hot dogs. Extra credit for sure.
Finally, money counts. I have different expectations at different price points. The food at Silly's is never going to be as good as the food at Fore Street but then again, I'm going to drop three times the cash at Fore Street so my expectations are about three times what I expect at Silly's. That's why a place like Otto can get a great review for a $3.50 slice and a place with a tastier $30 entree might garner less praise.
There you have it. My very general guidelines for reviewing food and why you should listen to what I have to say. Trust me. Have I ever steered you in the wrong direction?
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Moving Intown
Moving Intown.
I remember having a problem calling what I assumed was "downtown" Portland, "intown". I had lived in many places around the country and that part of the city or town where the businesses and restaurants were located was always called downtown. Well, it took a few years but when I now say I'll meet you intown, it flows smoothly off my tongue. See, even though my kids might think otherwise, I can change which brings us to the point of this post, our move intown.
I think many my age (50's) think about or at least dream about selling the house in the country (or in our case, North Deering) and moving downtown... I mean intown. TA and I figured that we spent so much time there anyway, mostly hitting the restaurants, that it would be an easier life style. Having grown up in New York City I always considered myself a "city boy" and really missed being able to walk to places. TA, on the other hand, grew up as a country girl and was a bit harder to convince. "Wouldn't you miss the yard?" she would ask. "The only time I'm in the yard, I'm mowing the lawn" would be my answer. "Won't you miss the house?" she'd ask. I'd have to think about that one for a moment. I really did like the house. I vaguely remember the layout of the upstairs from when I used to tuck the kids into bed but no one has been up there for a few years now. The finished basement is nice and I'm more familiar with it as I'd make my daily trip downstairs to feed the fish or else I'd have no idea what that place looked like either. That's not really true as, at least once a year, I would have to accompany the oil guy for my yearly furnace tune-up which also served to remind me of the $3500 I spent the year before heating a mostly empty house. Yeah, I wanted out and through some arm twisting and lies - "if you don't like living intown we'll move back" (I'm glad she didn't question where the "back" we'd be going back to might be as I assume the people who bought our house probably would not want to give it back to us), I was able to get TA to agree.
Long story short, we now live in the West End of Portland almost in the shadow of Maine Med which is both comforting (I only have to go a few blocks for the best medical treatment in the state) and disconcerting because, as I age, there's a much greater likelihood that I'm going to need some of the best medical care the State has to offer. So what does one who sold the big house, gave away most of our stuff to charity (to the chagrin of our accountant, we got no receipts), bought a wreck of a condo that had to be gutted, and eats out almost all the time, do with their time? I figure I'd write about it. Welcome to my blog.
I remember having a problem calling what I assumed was "downtown" Portland, "intown". I had lived in many places around the country and that part of the city or town where the businesses and restaurants were located was always called downtown. Well, it took a few years but when I now say I'll meet you intown, it flows smoothly off my tongue. See, even though my kids might think otherwise, I can change which brings us to the point of this post, our move intown.
I think many my age (50's) think about or at least dream about selling the house in the country (or in our case, North Deering) and moving downtown... I mean intown. TA and I figured that we spent so much time there anyway, mostly hitting the restaurants, that it would be an easier life style. Having grown up in New York City I always considered myself a "city boy" and really missed being able to walk to places. TA, on the other hand, grew up as a country girl and was a bit harder to convince. "Wouldn't you miss the yard?" she would ask. "The only time I'm in the yard, I'm mowing the lawn" would be my answer. "Won't you miss the house?" she'd ask. I'd have to think about that one for a moment. I really did like the house. I vaguely remember the layout of the upstairs from when I used to tuck the kids into bed but no one has been up there for a few years now. The finished basement is nice and I'm more familiar with it as I'd make my daily trip downstairs to feed the fish or else I'd have no idea what that place looked like either. That's not really true as, at least once a year, I would have to accompany the oil guy for my yearly furnace tune-up which also served to remind me of the $3500 I spent the year before heating a mostly empty house. Yeah, I wanted out and through some arm twisting and lies - "if you don't like living intown we'll move back" (I'm glad she didn't question where the "back" we'd be going back to might be as I assume the people who bought our house probably would not want to give it back to us), I was able to get TA to agree.
Long story short, we now live in the West End of Portland almost in the shadow of Maine Med which is both comforting (I only have to go a few blocks for the best medical treatment in the state) and disconcerting because, as I age, there's a much greater likelihood that I'm going to need some of the best medical care the State has to offer. So what does one who sold the big house, gave away most of our stuff to charity (to the chagrin of our accountant, we got no receipts), bought a wreck of a condo that had to be gutted, and eats out almost all the time, do with their time? I figure I'd write about it. Welcome to my blog.
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