Two years ago my doctor told me to cut down on my complex carbohydrates which, of course, I covet like a pirate his gold.  So with my health in mind, I moved myself down to one slice of bread a day and one starch.  And you’re thinking, what about cookies, muffins and scones, rice, bagels, and oats?  I know, shocking.  However, the real monster, the bane, the absolute siren of the carbohydrate world is, for me, homemade bread.  If I could exercise some self control when it comes to lovely loaves of golden gluten I might only eat one slice but normally, that is not how it goes down…it goes down as the loaf!  Alas, when bread is involved, portion control rarely makes its way into my consciousness; instead it lies half asleep in my subconscious, haphazardly ignoring all that is carborhydratesque until it too late.  These episodes typically end in self inflicted guilt wounds and a healthy dose of rigorous exercise to exorcise the bread demons; penance, if you will, for my gluten gluttony.  Forsooth, bread and I are destined forever to engage in an unsanctioned metabolic dance; we are star crossed lovers, the Romeo and Juliette of the wheat world.  To eat or not to eat that is the question.  Okay, enough with the yeasty drama and Shakespearian overtones.  I refuse to be completely banished from my most rewarding culinary endeavor, baking bread. And like a wheat frenzied sadist, I bow to the bread every weekend and make it myself, from scratch.

rising bread

Yikes! The word “scratch”.  People are amazed when they discover I make my bread from scratch.  “Not in a bread machine?” they ask.  “No. I actually make it. You know with my hands.”  Over and over again the response which I am hoping for: awe, admiration, amazement…is sidelined by downright plain confusion.  “Why?”

I find baking bread to be a completely liberating experience.  Although some would say it is the antithesis of liberating, all bound into rising times, measurements, and the finicky steps of preparing the dough, the process of making bread is quintessential chaos…at least for me it is.  Flour everywhere, hands covered in dough, and frankly, I don’t care.  Annie Polestein playing in the flourThis isn’t a photo shoot, or a contest.  Martha Stewart need not apply.  I don’t care about the mess, the dishes, the impending clean up that couples any culinary adventure. I don’t care if the loaves are perfectly round, even or shaped.  The art is in the texture, the taste, the absolute heavenly aroma.  When making bread, I just dig in and let go of all the “I shoulds” and immerse myself into the “what ifs”.  In the end, regardless of looks, I find I have created something beautiful, something people love, something nurturing, something archaic and traditional.  I love that, love being tied to universal sustenance…our daily bread.

Yeast or no yeast, leavened or unlevened, baked or fried, people understand bread. We have placed it at the very crux of many ceremonies, religious services and holidays.  Challah, Vanocka, Jule Kaga, Hoska,  Panetonne are all breads used to highlight a festive season or high holiday.  They originate from all over the world and from many different cultures.  I say, “ Let’s celebrate.  Let’s share. Let’s break bread together.”  I think you get my overall message here; ‘tis the season of peace and good tidings.  Bread may not solve all ills of this world but it certainly sweetens the deal, and it sure is hard to argue with your mouth full.

making braided bread

To me homemade bread says, “I care. I took the time. I believe in goodness and community.”  It is no surprise then that at the River Driver’s Restaurant our bread is homemade.  A simple addition to every meal, our bread epitomizes our commitment to quality dining in the north.  Of course, there is more to our menu than bread, but while we can wow you with our delicious entrees and desserts, our bread sets the stage for your eating pleasure.  This holiday season we are wishing you peace, joy and good tidings.  Make some homemade bread. Eat bread. Share your homemade bread, even it is gluten free or you can only have one slice!

I am still cooking with turkey.  25 pounds later and I find myself resorting to the proverbial turkey soup, nothing special, just turkey, carrots, potatoes, onions, onion salt and garlic powder.   My history with post Thanksgiving  turkeys is a bit dodgy and those of you who know me will remember the shed! But this is as much as I am willing to divulge on the world wide web.  If you can draw any conclusions from my reluctance to talk about turkey leftovers, and I am not just talking about a little bit of meat but the whole bird, you can probably discern that my track record leaves little to be desired.   Suffice it to say,I am not good with carcasses.

No picture necessary!                                   creme brulee

This year is different, hence the soup…the last vestiges of the Thanksgiving turkey which we are diligently still eating.   My taste buds, however, are refusing to celebrate the glory of a carcass well picked.  I feel like a medieval serf, stubbornly reverting to the same ingredients while I hold out for the next feast.  In the house, we are craving new flavors, fresh flavors, anything but turkey, onions, carrots and potatoes.  And so, with this soup under my belt, we can now see the light.  To kick off this festive season, a season without Turkey, we are breaking out of the soup pot and heading to the River Driver’s in Millinocket, Maine for the Holiday Spirit and Wine Dinner.

holiday ornaments

I am happy to say the menu involves no turkey and instead highlights fresh, seasonal flavors so much appreciated after the traditional doldrums of Thanksgiving.  Atlantic Salmon and creamy dill risotto wrapped in puff pastry, marinated and roasted beef tenderloin, artisanal local cheeses, arugula, fig and pomegranate salad, I fear I may stun myself in to a coma with this menu!  There is, of course, dessert: Guinness Chocolate Cake with chili, truffle pops, meringues, rum pound cake with cranberry topping and more holiday treats.  All accompanied by thoughtfully paired wine and spirits.  I think you know where I will be on Saturday, December 4th at 6:30 pm!

The River Driver’s restaurant is excited to host their Holiday Wine & Spirit Dinner.  In collaboration with Bangor Wine & Cheese and Wicked Wines we hope to make the season bright.  You are invited to join us, and we want to make it easy.  Our getaway package includes 1 night accommodation at Twin Pines’ Cabins and the Holiday Spirit and Wine Dinner.  Treat your family and friends and escape the hectic, seasonal shopping frenzy.  We love food, and we love celebrating the local flavors of the North Country sans turkey!river drivers restaurant logo

When I moved to Millinocket, Maine a year ago part of the process involved cancelling my utilities.  One inquisitive cable representative asked me where I was moving to…I told her.  After a brief pause in which she may have map quested Millinocket or all together realized she didn’t know where Millinocket was, she finally, plainly asked “Why?”    A typical question for certes and I hated to offer her true curiosity such a clichéd answer, a man.  So I didn’t.  In response, I described Katahdin, the woods, the skiing, and the quiet.  “Nope, won’t be needing cable where I am going “I confidently professed.  Meanwhile, in the back of my mind I wondered…what in the hell was I going to do in Millinocket?

Mt. Katahdin

In truth, my excitement over relocating to Millinocket lacked luster.  While in love to my betrothed and moving closer to the Canadian border, not over it like I endeavor someday,  I knew that my proximity to Portland offered a respite from my current removed, agrarian life in New Gloucester as  it involved only a 35 minute drive.   A respite I usually took advantage of only once every three months.   And when I did go in to “town” it was always, always, always to eat.  Yes, I am a foodie through and through, love to dine out, love to have an evening devoted solely to taste, and good company which includes appetizers, desserts and cheese plates, absolutely decadent indulgence in butter, cream, wine, scotch and espresso, conversation, courses and hours spent dining . Portland, Maine is bursting  with amazing cuisine  Favorite haunts included Street & Co, Five Fifty-Five, The Merry Table , Cinque Terre and The Front Room.  My move to Millinocket, in my mind, would be the end of this.

Ooey Gooey - Our specialty dessert

And so I packed, yarn, clothes, dogs, and most importantly my cookbooks, said my goodbyes, grabbed a coffee and trundled on to 95 North.  Moving is hard, it requires significant change without the pre-established network of the former local.  Community is not instant. You have to find it, seek it out, ask about it and make it yourself.   My foodie instincts did not fail me.   I went to what I loved… good food.   Where did I find myself?  The River Driver’s Restaurant.  All that I thought lost was found.  I could have my cake and eat it too.  I could live in a beautiful place, enjoy a small town, not have cable AND dine out on fresh, seasonal, delicious food.

chef's special

At the River Driver’s we believe in the power of food and community.  We want to provide locals and visitors a dining experience, a place to gather for an exceptional meal and settle in to the northern Maine landscape.  Our menu is a collaboration of resourcefulness and ingenuity as inspired by  our “off the beaten path”  location.  But you will find the best here as reflected in our selection of wines, entrees and homemade desserts.   Willywacks, wilderness, remote, removed  call it what you will, you can get here from there and it is worth the drive.

scallop special

Holiday Spirit Getaway Package

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