Ahh, the sign of a butchers cleaver. I am not sure what this provokes in most people, but as I've…read moresaid before, Stephen King gives me the heebie-jeebies. So for me, the butcher cleaver represents something tasty--except for when the shmuckabaloos haven't a clue what they are doing.
Fortunately, this tasty little joint, Miller's Market up in Gorham, Maine, knows what they're doing! I'd been cruising the highways, riding the coast of Vacationland for some time now, and somehow, someway, ventured a bit further inland.
Once I saw the burnt-orange cleaver in the window, I knew I'd have to give it a try and see if these hullabaloos knew what they were doing.
I was greeted with a "Hey, how you'rrrr doin'?" The soft, rolling extension on the r made me feel right at home in Maine. Jeezum crow, you Mainers speak funny. But by golly, you are a lovable bunch of hillbilly farmers and fisherfolk.
Anywho, I ordered myself a chicken Caesar wrap--wanting to feel nourished, but not to the point of comatose. Salad in a wrap--a genius way to feel healthy. Mind over matter.
"Hand-cut fries or hand-cut chips?" the counter guy asked me.
Now, I love a fry, but I'm feeling crunchy in these overcast late-April days. I hesitate, and somehow this mind reader behind the counter could sense it.
"I can see you want the chips, but you gotta try these fries. Why don't I give you a little of both?" he says to me.
Now I'm looking at him cockeyed--just another Mainer who seems to be able to read a man's soul.
Well, I am here now--no turning back.
And then my eyes widen when I spot a tasty crème soda in the fridge next to the register. My lucky day. Crème soda--the most underrated of all sodas. What's not to love? Creamy and poppy all in the same bottle.
This guy seems nice, and I am in no rush, so I say, "Hey, throw it on my tab. I'm going to be a while. After I eat, I'm going to write something!"
I pull up a spot without paying and know that there's no expectation to do so--at least not right away. Good ol' Maine courtesy, as good as this blueberry Jalapeño salsa from Pemberton partners, which I can apparently purchase at Millers Market, where it just ain't sangys it's home goodies too.
I open up my futuristic-typewriter and get to work on my latest novel, but can't seem to find a single word. I glance at the menu--buffalo chicken pesto sandwich. Hard tellin', not knowin'. Mainers--brilliant folk when it comes to food. Pesto and buffalo sauce! Never had it, but I need it. That's bound to be tasty--as warm buttah' on lobstah.
"Hi, I'll take my butter with lobster, please."--how it should be ordered. Dee-EEE --licious.
You Mainers are shaking your heads right now, pesto and buffalo is probably a common thing round these parts, from ya? Nope I ain't and the rest of the country is far behind on the trend of the buffalo/pesto combo, I can promise you that.
Then my food is brought out to me. It looks tasty--but the fries have me skeptical....
Find out how it all turned out at
https://ryanccurtis.com/blog/timeless-fries-at-millers-market/n19c63