Maine is chock full of country stores. Or general stores. Whichever name you’d like to use. I’ll show you one in this post. And then I’ll teach you how to make your very own butternut squash soup.
Depending on where you live in New England, you’ll either call them country stores or general stores. Both names are fairly interchangeable. If you live way out in the middle of nowhere, you’ll likely use country store. If you live in Vermont or closer to town, you’ll likely use general store. Personally, I like both. Growing up in New York, we called a deli near my neighborhood, “The General Store.” I’m not sure how it got that name, but I remember it was that way forever. Whatever the case, it was an excellent establishment. The store sold everything a deli would sell, plus the best candy imaginable and an entire variety of baseball cards. My brother and I used to walk there from our home up on the hill. Seemingly, at least once per week, we’d make the just over half mile trek to the store to buy some Hubba Bubba bubble gum. And baseball cards. If we had only known what those things would be worth today, perhaps we wouldn’t have clipped the cards to our bicycle tires so it sounded like we were riding motorcycles. Those were the days.
Did You Know? The idea of the country, or general, store was first established during the colonial period in the United States. While those who lived in more urban areas along the east coast had regular access to goods and services, those who lived far inland and in more rural areas endured great difficulty obtaining the same. For the rural customers, itinerant peddlers would travel through to sell their wares. Once the peddlers accumulated either enough money or inventory, many set up permanent shops in the centers of busy locations – usually highly traveled crossroads. Next time you find yourself standing in an old country store, take a look around to see what’s hanging on the walls. You may just find a bit of history to let you know how old the structure is and how it came to be.
I live in western Maine and since I arrive in this area, I’ve seen many country stores. They’re the coolest places ever. They sell the typical stuff you’d expect to see in the modern era; soda, cigarettes, sandwiches, and salt to melt the ice on your sidewalk, but some go so far as to sell much more extravagant items, such as camping gear, guns, wood stoves and, yes, wedding gowns – sometimes all in the same place. Don’t believe me? Just take a look at Hussey’s General Store in Windsor. You’ll see. This store offers everything you could possibly want. It’s a landmark and it’s been around forever. This year marks its 100th anniversary. That should tell you something about how much it’s loved by the locals.
PS – I’m not sure how noticeable it was, but two paragraphs up, I used the word itinerant to describe the peddlers of yesteryear. This isn’t a word you see too often, but by its placement, you may have guessed its meaning. When you use the word itinerant, what you’re saying is traveling from place to place, which is what peddlers oftentimes do. You can describe someone, such as a salesman, as an itinerant salesman (traveling salesman) or you can describe a person or entire group as simply itinerant. Those people are itinerants, meaning, they’re of the traveling kind.
I’ve been having a lot of fun as of late in my efforts to expand my vocabulary. I truly enjoy scaling down all those jumbled words to describe them with just one. Is this something you’d be interested in doing too? If so, why not read the somewhat succinct manual I recently wrote on how to go about doing just that? If you choose to read it, you’ll not only learn how to expand your vocabulary, but why you might want to, as well as the benefits of the endeavor. Give it a shot! I think you’ll like it.
D&L Country Store, Oakland, Maine
Laura and I visited a neighboring town called Waterville this past Tuesday. We make the same trip every few months and every few months, we see the same country store along the way. Up until yesterday, I had yet to consider stopping to explore it. I had no reason to. But since I’ve been drinking tea with caffeine in it, as revealed in one of my previous posts, I’ve been doing strange things. And yesterday, I did something strange. I actually stopped to see what was going on inside.
As we approached, I was interested in merely taking a few photos of the building’s exterior. As you can see, it’s unique looking. It really is the only one that looks like it in all the miles we travel to Waterville. It’s what I like to refer to as old school. If you search Google for “country store” or “general store,” you’ll find photos of some beautiful stores indeed. The problem with these businesses is that they’ve become fashionable and are the types to charge $6.99 for a cup of coffee. I like to refer to these as new school. I’m a fan of taking photos of these buildings and their interiors, but I’m not terribly interested in spending my hard earned dollars in them. I much prefer the country stores of old – the ones that charge a few bucks for two fairly large coffees. More on that in a moment. First, take a look at some more photos. Talk about good ol’ gas pumps. Remember these? I haven’t seen one like it in a long while.
I took photos of the parking lot area and the building and then Laura and I decided to head inside to see what it was like. What was supposed to be a quick peek turned into a 20-minute conversation with the two ladies who worked there. We got talking about Maine and the area where the store was situated. Apparently, it’s located along the southern edge of East Pond in Oakland, which plays host to more than a few summer camps for boys and girls. The closest is a boy’s camp called Camp Manitou. The second closest is a girl’s camp called Camp Somerset. I may be mistaken when I say this, but these two camps might be part of the same network that we’ve all heard about – you know the ones – those sleepaway camps in Maine that kids from around the Northeast love to attend. Those with waterskiing, tennis, and horseback riding. I absolutely adore these types of getaways. Not that I’ve ever gone to one, but I love the idea of children going away someplace for the summer to meet new friends. Places to create incredible memories. Places like those in the movies.
I did a little snooping around online and found the rates for Manitou and Somerset. I just had to include them in this post so you could see what I saw.
Camp Manitou: Full Session, June 25 – August 13, $14,350 (50 days – $287 per day)
Camp Somerset: Full Session, June 20 – August 6, $15,500 (47 days – $329 per day)
Ah, only if…
Back to the building. We spoke with two women who worked there. The primary speaker’s name was Diana and she was born and raised in Maine. She left to live in Connecticut and then Florida, but then…and this is when I cut in, “You moved back to Maine, didn’t you.” It wasn’t even a question, because she was obviously standing before me. “Yes,” she replied. “It’s home. I tried to leave, but I always knew I’d end up back here.” I then told Diana my story of moving to the state and how I felt when I crossed the border from New Hampshire into Maine. I’ve told that story a thousand times. I guess I like to and I’ll repeat it to anyone who’ll listen. I enjoyed the fact that Diana and I were on the same page. It reminded me of the conversation Laura and I had with the fellow who worked at the wine store in Camden. He expressed his reasons for venturing up north and so did we. It’s so strange to be someplace where most people we speak to share such similar stories.
Two of the more interesting products we found inside were wine and sleds. The wine was primarily red and was more than enticing. I saw a healthy variety of Malbec, which, needless to say, is just the best. As for the sleds, they’re used for dragging gear across the snow while heading to an ice fishing spot. As you’ll see in subsequent posts, ice fishing gear can weigh quite a bit. Carrying it by hand mostly isn’t an option, especially if a fisherman is walking a distance. There were small sleds that look like something a child might sit in to slide down a hill, larger sleds, and then jumbo ones that appeared as if they were the size of a pickup truck bed. As I stood there gazing as these sleds, I imagined me, along with a few of my closest friends, nestled inside the largest one, sliding down some huge hill. Sure, the adventure would likely maim each one of us, but the stories that would be told. Like none other. “The legends of Oakland,” they’d say. I do have an active imagination, which is probably the reason I completely forgot to take a photo of the sleds. The next time I’m in the area, I’ll be sure to do so. For now, this video is a good representation of those I saw in the store.
Do you remember the time I discussed traditions? As luck would have it, we created a new one while standing before the coffee kiosk inside this wonderful little shop. Laura was pouring hers and I was pouring mine. I glanced sideways and mentioned something like, “Perhaps we should explore more interesting places. Perhaps we should buy ourselves some cups of joe while doing so.” She thought my idea was a good one and a tradition was born. Because I’m writing on this blog and sharing stories like these, why not make it a thing to seek out fun and interesting country stores, coffee shops, cafes – (you know what I’m trying to say) – to take pictures of and learn about? As a small reward, maybe we’ll get ourselves two cups of coffee for a job well done. It’s just an idea. Whether I know it or not, it’s probably already begun. We bought coffee while exploring French & Brawn in Camden and now D&L in Oakland. I’m nearly certain we’ll never stop inside an old school gas station like Anni’s Market in Kingfield or a neat little hangout like Java Joe’s in Farmington without picking up two piping hot cups of Green Mountain or the like. This is how it happens.
North Pond, Smithfield, Maine
Heading northwest from the country store, we passed by a lake called North Pond. It’s a large body of water of approximately 338 acres and one with a depth of 41 feet. The town of Smithfield rests on its eastern side and it’s the most northern lake in the Belgrade Lakes region.
Take a look at the paragraph directly above again. Reread it and let me know if you notice anything strange. Do you see how I referred to a pond as a lake? Have you ever asked yourself, “What’s the difference between a pond and a lake, anyway? How were these things named in the first place?” If so, I’ve got some answers for you.
To start, let’s ask the question, “Why do people call lakes, ponds?” There sure do seem to be a lot of great big ponds in the areas west of Waterville and Augusta (and probably beyond). At first glance, I see North Pond, East Pond, Great Pond, Long Pond, Ellis Pond, Parker Pond, and – oh, I could go on and on. To the east of these ponds is Messalonskee Lake. Wait, what?
To me, a pond is a hole someone dug in their back yard and then filled with water. It’s about 30 feet across and five feet deep. Lakes are huge. Hundreds of acres and people fish and waterski in them. So why do Mainers call big lakes, ponds?
The answer is simple. Legend has it that it all depends on how deep a lake is. If sunlight can reach the bottom of all its areas, it’s referred to as a pond. If the sunlight can’t reach the depths of certain parts, it’s called a lake. But wait, it gets even more interesting. Back when folks began settling certain parts of Maine, the settlers named their bodies of water arbitrarily, giving no consideration to either their size or depth. What’s more, as the ponds and lakes remained constant in regards to their volume, their names have switched back and forth through the years. So in 1607, when Captain George Popham disembarked his ship called Gift of God and settled a small area of Maine, he may have named a huge body of nearby water, Popham Pond. If one of his fellow colonizers later settled on the other side of the pond, he could have renamed it as something like, Gilbert Lake. Of course, once Captain Popham learned of the renaming of his pond, he’d surely give Admiral Gilbert a visit to explain the situation. Pond it would be. Or perhaps the lake may have retained its name as Gilbert Lake, knowing the personalities of both men.
I want you to know that the pond and lake names I just used as reference above are fictional. There is, however, an area located at the mouth of the Kennebec River called Popham Beach State Park. That was most certainly named after Captain Popham. And for all you history buffs out there, the original Popham Colony that was established in 1607 upon the arrival of the settlers has since been renamed to Phippsburg. Phippsburg is a large island that’s located directly south of Bath. If you visit the heart of Phippsburg, you’ll find nothing other than very well maintained white clapboard homes, a true sign of exquisite New England carpentry. You’ll also find the Phippsburg Congregational Church, which was built in 1802. If you continue south to the bottom tip of the island, you’ll find white sandy beaches, large forests, the rocky coast, and even lighthouses. With all that natural splendor (minus the lighthouses), it’s no wonder Captain Popham chose to call the area his home, even if his experience was short lived.
Let’s return to North Pond.
Laura and I left the country store. We traveled north into Smithfield, and true to form, my newly found nature led me astray to explore a back road or two. We turned northwest onto Lake View Drive and then west onto North Shore Drive. From looking at the names of these roads, I’m sure you’ve deduced that we skirted the shore of North Pond. The reason I had an interest in doing so is because after the last time Laura and I made this trip, I learned about these two roads by exploring Google Earth. I found that they were full of history, lake houses, and pretty views. While the skies during our trip were overcast, we were still able to take some photos and enjoy the scenery.
This is the first scene we happened upon. It’s the Smithfield Baptist Church.
As we continued on, we saw lakeside homes, fun little camps (cabins), and true signs of Maine in the form of snowmobiles.
After traveling through the woods, driving in a direction of which neither of us were aware, we landed at the center of a small town called Mercer. Luckily Mercer is just east of Farmington, where we were ultimately headed.
Mercer, Maine
We’ve been to Mercer before. We’ve gone apple picking there. To see some photos from our previous visits, please click through to this post. While we’ve visited during the autumn, we’ve never actually seen the area during winter. It’s just as stunning. If I had the funds, I’d purchase the entire valley near the Mercer Meeting House as well as the Vestry Thrift Shop and somehow turn it into a sanctuary for those who would like to escape it all and live in a village straight out of Ethan Frome. It’s that pretty and that perfect.
I managed to snap a few photos during this last leg of our trip.
This is an interesting shot. Along the same road as the meeting house and historical society is a small waterfall. During the winter, the falling water creates mist that clings to the trees and freezes. It’s quite nice.
After spending a little time in Mercer, we eventually made it to Farmington to complete some errands and then head back home. To wrap this section up, I’ll show you two sights you’ll see all winter long around these parts. The first is a log truck and the second is people ice fishing. These aren’t the ice fisherman I referred to above – those are reserved for my next post.
Butternut Squash Soup
I’d like to quickly mention something you might not be aware of. I’m a self-proclaimed butternut squash soup connoisseur, which I say in jest due to the word’s pretentious undertones, as if this sentence could get any more pretentious as it stands. What I’m trying to tell you is that I know my soup. I’ve made more versions of the butternut variety than I care to share and pretty much each and every batch I’ve prepared has come out either very well or rather well. There was one batch that was so tasty that I’m not sure I can ever duplicate it, even though I’ve still got the recipe. I’ve tried and each successive attempt has fallen flat, which is to mean not nearly as good as the original. The recipe I’d like to share with you today is as delicious as it is healthy. It’s a slow cooker soup, so if you’ve got an old crockpot (now called slow cooker for some reason) or a Dutch oven and a wood stove, you’re in business.
I pulled this particular recipe from the Williams Sonoma website. It’s simple and extraordinarily easy to prepare. And what’s more, in the post I share the recipe, I offer all sorts of interesting information about the butternut squash in general. Ever wonder if it’s healthy? Ever wonder about the varying ways to cook a butternut squash and what the benefits are of each method? Ever wonder which squash is the most similar to the butternut variety and which you could use as a substitute? When I write a recipe post, I don’t just share a recipe. I dig deep and try to unearth every bit of information someone might care about while preparing whatever it is I write about. Of course, if you’d like to just get on with it and follow the recipe to make some food, I have a button for that. It’s called the Jump to Recipe button that allows you to skip all the information. Ready to eat? Just click below to visit the recipe.
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