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October 22, 2006
When I think about those long ago summers in Maine, I think about food. Going to the lobster pound to choose lobsters for dinner. Fresh corn from roadside stands. Fried clams and blissful lobster rolls (must be in a white, split top roll — accept no substitutes). The annual clambake at the lab where my Dad worked in the summer. Blueberry pancakes at a little hole in the wall place in Bar Harbor; blueberry coffeecake from Southwest Harbor. A woman sold them from her kitchen. You just walked right in. Usually, she gave us a cookie, too. It was heaven.