Dining Out

As the wooden fishing boat slows to a halt, twenty-three rods rest perpendicularly on the red metal railing waiting for the signal. When the motor cuts, the weighted and squid-baited lines drop immediately into the water, finding their way down about fifty feet to the bottom. Tap, tap, tap, the hits come nearly instantly. Within minutes, maybe even seconds, amid shouts and whoops, silver fish dangle from multiple lines.

With the first crocuses behind us and the passing of mud season, our thoughts turn to warmer weather. In the bar as in the wardrobe, it’s time to pivot from the heavier items that sate in the cold months to spring and summer’s lighter offerings.

You are what you eat. But new evidence shows you may also be the product of how you eat. In the new book Home for Dinner (AMACOM, $16), author Anne K. Fishel makes the case for putting mealtime back at the center of family life. And while there are plenty of recipes provided, this isn’t just about nutrition.

Somewhere during the hundred-forty days in a row that Catherine Walthers served her family kale, her husband piped up to say, “We should call this book One Thousand Ways to Hide Kale.” Truth be told, in some of the recipes in Kale Glorious Kale, the hearty vegetable du jour makes a cameo appearance: 1/8th of an ounce of juice in a six ounce Kale Mary cocktail comes to mind. But the point isn’t to hide the vegetable, Walters says; it’s to show its

In the 1950s, eating fresh, local food wasn't a fad. It was a necessity.

Lately food trucks are all the rage but they’re hardly a new idea. Cowboys driving cattle in the 1800s had what were probably the first food trucks – they called them chuck wagons. In the 1890s lunch wagons did a good business catering to late-night workers. And of course mobile food trucks have been around for years, serving up food at construction sites.

Crisply cooling and refreshing with the added “medicinal” benefit of the quinine in tonic, this most patrician of drinks evokes the most patrician of Island towns: Edgartown. In summer. On a dock. Under a flag. Wearing pink.

“It’s crispy and delicious, almost a little sweet,” says Tim Broderick, a man who knows his fluke. The Chilmark fisherman was the host of last year’s fisherman’s fish fry, an annual tradition to mark the end of the commercial fluke season and a chance for the fishermen to slow down and enjoy this summer specialty they unload daily on Menemsha docks. Their method was simple and classic: they rolled the fluke in flour seasoned with just salt and pepper and plunged it into the deep fryer, serving it alongside fried clams, garden salads, and other potluck dishes.

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Dining Out