Foodblogging - Isleboro Dock

During our foray out to the Cranberries, the first stop was a late lunch at the only restaurant on the islands-- the Isleboro Dock. It's an informal place with a short menu: a couple of salads, chowder (out of it), a mezze platter; the obligatory burger, crab roll, lobster roll, and two bbq sandwiches; and a third section that offered lobster at market price and "Something Steamed." The steamed something turned out to be mussels, and I ordered them, along with a Bar Harbor Real Ale. It was the first I'd had either on this trip...


The beer, I know. It was good, as always--especially because it was on tap. The mussels? Oy. Double oy.

I've never had mussels this good. The broth was butter and white wine over a perfect stock. There were cloves of roasted garlic that had simmered for so long they melted in your mouth. Carmelized onions added an unexpected smokiness to the dish, and the fresh oregano--from the garden across the road--lent a pungent punch to the whole thing. The bread came from a bakery in Northeast Harbor, and it was crusty and airy. Perfect to soak up the brodo.

I worried about being hungry afterward, but there was no chance of that. (Of course, snacking off Banana's perfectly crisp french fries helped too.)

And when the power went out mid-meal for a few minutes, that didn't throw anyone for a loop. Life is slower on an island, and if I could eat like this for the rest of my life... oy. I'd live a happy man.

A trip to the islands...

Grandma, Banana, and I decided to take the ferry to the Cranberry Islands this afternoon. The weather was awful all morning and kept plans in the air until Banana decided that she would rather take a boat ride than see Flash in the Pan. I was torn so I gave her the choice. Flash is a wonderful, amazing, community-driven show that is full of energy; I love it, but this is what we ended up with:




The ride out during the fog proved to be even more interesting than Grandma and I expected. The seas were fairly calm, and the air was crystalline.

What is truly remarkable is the singular feeling of being on an island. Nothing compares. Whether it is an island off the Brazilian coast (Ilha Bela) or the Irish coast (Inish Moor or Inish Boffin) or Little Cranberry Island, there is a common feeling to island culture--a combination of friendliness and suspicion, and a quiet awareness of isolation. It's remarkable, really.

Anyway, I've now marked Little Cranberry as a point for further exploration. I like the feel of the place, the remoteness punctuated by the honest friendliness of the people we met. There isn't more to write, sadly, about the place because we didn't have enough time there. The next post will explain why...