FREE Trick Or Treat.
Genre-bending, stereotypedefying rock â€˜n roll, blues and more by group of youngsters ages 73 to 90 Proceeds to benefit
Sunday, October 14, 3 PM Barnstable Performing Arts Center, Hyannis
Tickets available at www.CapeAbilities.org or by calling 1-888-71 TICKETS
1st Annual 5k Halloween Hustle MAYFLOWER BEACH Dunes Road, Dennis Race start time 11 am Registration start time 9 am
$20-Pre-register $25-Race day Awards for:
Top 3 Finishers in Each Age Group Top Male/Female Police Top Male/Female Fire
Saturday October 27th Dennis Police Department 12noon-4pm
or online at
Halloween Costume contest Open to all following race. Participants are encouraged to run in costume. Post Race Party hosted by Chapinâ€™s Restaurant. Suggested Donation $15 Parking at Mayflower Beach or Chapinâ€™s T-shirts will be available for purchase at pre-registration and day of race.
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Cast of Characters
That Guy James Joiner email@example.com Fist Shaker Amanda Converse firstname.lastname@example.org Arts Editor Jen Villa email@example.com Copy Editor Patricia Pronovost Sales Todd Goyette firstname.lastname@example.org Contributing Writers CJ Derrah, Nicole Cormier, Guy Arostag, Joey Mars Contributing Photographers Dan Cutrona, Justine Alten Cover photo by James Joiner
(Not so) fine print. Dinghy is published monthly right here on Cape Cod, by a locally owned business. We’d love to hear your comments, story ideas, or submissions. Send ‘em to email@example.com. If you’re not of the digital persuasion, you can use the good ol’ USPS at P.O. Box 404 Cotuit, MA 02635. Although at that point you may as well just give us a call at (508) 348-9845. Can’t wait for the next issue? www.thelittlemagazine.com Or make it Facebook official: Facebook.com/dinghymagazine
photo J. James Joiner
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Medicine of the past, present and future. Hectic life running you down? Feel better, more balanced, and ready to go again.
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81 Bassett Lane Suite B Hyannis. (508)775-0099
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Wicked thrift buy â€˘ sell â€˘ trade
Modern & vintage
clothing - shoes - accessories - jewelry for men and women 416 route 28 west dennis
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Amy Jo Johnson photo James Joiner
“The Place You’ve Been Looking For.” Local art and music. Farm to table menu. Revolving beer and wine lists. 776 Main Street (Route 6A) Dennis Village (508)385-2444 www.HarvestGalleryWineBar.com
James Joiner photos
Last Gasp Clambake
James Joiner photos
Joe Fletcher & the Wrong Reasons perform at the New Church. photo James Joiner
Scenes from Goddess Fest. Photos James Joiner
Ingrid Michaelson at the Cape Cinema. Photo James Joiner
RiLeY CoYoTe at the New Church. Photo James Joiner
Scenes from the Current Quarterly fall fashion show. Photos James Joiner
Leon Russell at Payomet. Photo James Joiner
Wooden Sand Dollars. by CJ Derrah
On September 18, 1987, Tough Guys Don’t Dance was released in theaters. The movie, directed by Norman Mailer and based on his novel of the same name, tells a tangled story set in Provincetown about a useless lush of a writer who might or might not have murdered two sort-of cocaine traffickers in an alcoholic haze. Intrigued? Don’t be. The movie kinda sucks. That is, except for one 36-second span that you might have already seen on YouTube under the the heading Worst Line Reading Ever. In the scene, Tim, the protagonist played by a 46-yearold Ryan O’Neal, descends through some dunes toward the recoiling surf and opens a mysterious letter from his ex-wife. Her voice becomes the narrator, saying some stuff about an affair and murder or whatever. Anyway, you know it’s important because of the braying horn section. Tim, squinty-eyed and agitated, turns to the camera. With the most wooden delivery possible, he spouts those wonderful words. “Oh man. Oh god oh man. Oh god oh man. Oh god oh man. Oh god oh man. Oh god.” The camera cuts to Tim’s vantage point, spinning round and round to convey how life-altering this revelation is, then cuts to the next scene. If you haven’t seen it, go watch it. This scene has been viewed more than 3.8 million times. It is undoubtedly the worst line reading ever. And it is easily one of the greatest moments in American cinema. Without going deeply into it, I’m not a fan of the late Norman Mailer. With the exception of The
Fight, his books never resonated with me. In my opinion, there are few authors less capable of writing convincing dialogue for the screen. Outside of Tough Guys – a movie that didn’t even recover a million dollars against its $5 million production budget – Mailer’s most notable foray into film involved being hit over the head with a very real hammer by a very real Rip Torn. Nonetheless, he is clearly one of the world’s greatest directors. Also on YouTube, you’ll find a short interview clip of Mailer talking about the “oh man oh god” scene, in which he claims to have insisted on its inclusion against the wishes of everyone around him, including O’Neal. Mailer says that O’Neal called him a jerk for letting the scene play out as it does. But singling out the “oh man oh god” line for its poor delivery is splitting hairs – you wouldn’t say O’Neal is convincing when he says “My blood itself was turning mean” or “My head’s been peculiar lately” or any of the other dialogue that would have been better spoken by a preening 10th grader. The “oh man oh god” sequence gets at the heart of this movie better than the hour and 49 minutes of stuff that surrounds it: boneheaded words spoken by a bonehead in the most boneheaded manner. And while everyone else involved in the movie wanted to hide their shame, Norman Mailer kept it real. This scene is like the analog hiss, stick clicks, and between-song banter you hear on demos from garage bands. They are the elements that most transparently identify the thing itself. Instead of running an eight-track demo through Pro Tools, just dub it onto a Memorex tape, warts and all. It will be raw, but it’s better than a cloying attempt at refinement. We need more flubs, more honesty, more of the right kind of ugliness in our entertainment. So now, almost 25 years to the week since Ryan O’Neal first spouted those immortal words on screen, I applaud your directorial sensibilities, Mr. Mailer. In your honor, I spin round and round, for no good reason, because it’s the only thing that’s real.
by Guy Arostag So I embark on this journey once again to extoll the joys of local restaurant eating and how it engenders us to enlightenment and care for our fellow man. Oh, BARF. Too touchy-feely. Lets try that again: It’s just food. Let’s be serious: None of us is freaking ‘Vong’ over here (that’s Jean-Georges Vongerichten, kind of a big deal in food). It’s just that there’s all this FOOD, man, what are you going to eat? I mean, HOW are you going to KNOW, man? I dunno. Here’s some stuff I like. No warranties expressed or implied. Today, kids, we’re going to talk about driving to Yarmouth, closing your eyes, and forgetting that you are on sleepy little Cape Cod when your dinner is insistent that you are in Boston’s North End, The girls are wearing black tights and high-heeled boots and the men are laughing into their espressos. No, children, you’re at The Four Seasons Trattoria. It’s in a revamped Friendly’s restaurant on 28, across the street from the RMV (...you know, where you almost stabbed someone with a cheap, government-issued pen, but the chain holding it to the counter was too short), next to Dagget’s Liquors and Ryan Family Bowl. There have been a number of restaurants here, and it must be hard to get the ‘Friendly’s-ness’ out of a Friendly’s, but hey, they did their best. Booths are gone, the dining room open, warm and spacious, and the area near the entrance is welcoming bar that seats about ten. Stained oak soffets warm the ceiling. White tablecloths, sparklingly-clean silver and glassware, dark green napkins - NOT the cheap polyester ones - little things are doing the ‘undo-ice-cream-cafe’ spell, if you will. The first
time I dined here, a friendly guy squeezed us in without reservations. We were lucky, as there was soon a line at the door of this young establishment. The cuisines of numerous countries are built on (or mostly near) the use of garlic and lemon in seasonings. Greeks, Italians, Spaniards, Lebanese, Syrians, - so many others - season entire dishes with the basic combination. It lends itself to so many different kinds of foods; I can barely eat a piece of fish unless there is lemon nearby, and salad is a stretch without some hint of garlic. They are, in a way, the poster children for culinary simplicity while still providing a broad complexity that can is varied by usage. It appears they got the memo here at Four Seasons. First is fresh lemon and garlic, the way they taste when they come straight at you without stopping. This is where you find Insalata Di Mare. I have to say that it has been what feels like an eternity since I had an Insalata Di Mare comparable to one made by a guy named Franco far, far from this little island. He made it to order, throwing first clams, then mussels, then shrimp, and finally calamari into the boiling water. He timed it perfectly and when they came out each one was cooked perfectly. He cooled them in running water for a few minutes, then
tossed them in a bowl with a few pieces of minced garlic - just a few - and some olive oil, salt, and pepper, some greens... He would squeeze half a lemon. I would die when I ate. Though I did not watch them do it at Four Seasons, this is probably how it went down. The seafood was tender and sweet, (clearly fresh) and cool, but not icy. Just enough lemon, just enough garlic. I’ve never had better. The fresh lemon and garlic continued during another visit and applied to the Carpaccio. Carpaccio can be either excellent or so-so. This was fantastic. Served, as often is the case, on a large plate in a thin layer, this one is topped with a crispy pile of arugula in simple lemon, garlic and olive oil. Just the slightest hint of garlic, just enough lemon that the pepper of the arugula wasn’t lost. On the fringes were a few pieces of those expensive canned artichokes I could eat by the thousands. The Reggiano Parmigiana was high quality, had those twinges of pineapple and sweet cream while being salty and tangy to the aged beef clinging to the plate below. There’s also the bright, slightly-cooked garlic and lemon flavor. My guest had Spaghetti Primavera that was quite good. The pasta was cooked perfectly for thick spaghetti, a tiny bit more than al dente so as not to stick in your teeth. The vegetables were cooked perfectly too, leading me to believe that they were also cooked to order. This Primavera was flavored with the gentle garlic thing, cooked but not browned, piquant but smooth. When you do this thing with vegetables, there’s a savory, quiet note that brings out the vegetables’ sweetness. My guest chose to squeeze a little fresh lemon on there as well. Though it doesn’t come with, it cuts the weight of the olive oil while bringing out the olive oil flavor. There was not the slightest taste of anything else like shellfish or meat. This means the chef takes care and makes extra effort to cook pasta, shellfish, vegetables and meats separately. Perhaps my favorite use of garlic and lemon cooks them thoroughly. When you cook garlic in
oil until it passes light brown and moves towards golden, it turns some of the carbohydrates to sugars that quickly start to bitter, lending the roasted, sweet garlic flavor. Before the cooking goes too far, throw in a little lemon and wait for it to start turning dark too, for the same reasons as the garlic, and you’ve created a powerful, round flavor that coats your tongue on all sides and deeply flavors the dish. This is the essence of the Chicken Scarpariello, served at this Trattoria aside your choice of pasta in garlic and oil (I chose linguine). They may butcher whole chickens for their dishes, because my chicken was mixed pieces, lightly dredged in flour and sauteed with the aforementioned lemon and garlic treatment. There were wing parts and breast meat (still attatched to the wing bone), and all were quite tender and not at all dry. On another occasion, I had Orrechiette Barresi, traditional dish of Chicken Sausage and Broccoli Rabe over pasta that translates to ‘little ears’ and looks like italian farmers’ hats. It was impressive that the Broccoli Rabi were cooked perfectly - blanched first then sauteed to order a la minute. The little ears, again, were cooked perfectly, al dente, a little chewier as bitesized pieces should be. Four Seasons is a nice break from the ordinary pizza-shop italian that abounds here. Prices were surprisingly nice, about $60 for appetizer and entree for two; $75 with drinks.
Find Four Seasons at 1077 Route 28 in Yarmouth. 508-760-6600
DIY Food. by Nicole Cormier Ways to Budget before the Holidays 1. Experiments for Dinner: Sometimes the best thing you can do is experiment with your ingredients. We have all purchased or picked food items, not knowing how we would use them in our meal planning. Instead of wasting them, as they slowly begin to breakdown in your refrigerator, try creating a new recipe. This month, I took home Bay End Farm beets and cannelloni beans from Farm Fare Market. I had also just picked up a couple spaghetti squash out of the seconds pile on the farm. I decided it was one of those experimental food nights, so I started to boil spaghetti squash in water. Then, I peeled the beets and took the soaked cannelloni beans out of the refrigerator. Mixing all three together in the boiling water, I waited until they were tender. The squash had to cool before scraping out the strings of yellow spaghetti. In a mixing bowl, I added beets, beans, coconut oil, sea salt, apple cider vinegar and white wine. This experiment was a success. 2. Pantry Cooking for Guests: Many times, we can automatically feel the need to run out to the store to buy all new ingredients for a particular recipe for our guests. However, sometimes your pantry can supply all you need to serve an impressive meal. Youâ€™ll save time, gas, money, and the environment.
Our friend Adam came over for dinner this month to help us organize our Organic Farms are Everywhere! documentary. I had no idea what to serve due to the limited choices that were seen in my kitchen at a glance. I was not too worried about figuring out a plan, but I wasn’t 100% confident either. However, in my experience, as long as you have proteins (plant, animal or dairy) and fibers (vegetables and grains), you can create a masterpiece. This is what I had in my cabinet and refrigerator: Harvested Kale, Potatoes and Arugula, Leftover Quinoa Salad, Onions and Peppers, Chicken Breasts, Ginger Jam and Garlic. Here is my Menu: • Braised Kale with garlic & apple cider vinegar • Potatoes, Onions & Peppers with coconut oil & garlic • Chicken Breasts topped with Ginger Jam & garlic • Farm Quinoa Salad & fresh arugula 3. Low Carbon Meals: The cost of seeds can be pennies compared to purchasing mature produce, especially if you have saved your seeds from the year before. This can save you hundreds of dollars over a season, that’s if you’re eating your recommended servings of fruits and veggies. The added benefits of growing your own food includes the experience and connection you’re able to develop with the earth, support for your community, and nourishing your family with freshly picked produce. By having a backyard garden you can grow your own food and cut your shopping list significantly. Most food travels quite a long distance before joining the dinner table. If you were to cook
one meal a week from your garden, you can reduce your carbon footprint or environmental footprint immensely. Every little bit of fruits and vegetables you can grow yourself will help decrease gas producing vehicles to deliver it. Hence decreasing CO2 emissions. Jim Lough, my organic farmer and boyfriend, had cooked me dinner one night after picking Asian eggplant, Scallions, Cherokee Purple Heirloom Tomatoes, Butter & Sugar Corn from our backyard garden. He stopped by the farm stand where we live, for some garlic, kale & arugula. Most, think of arugula as a component of your salad, however, if you have slightly wilted arugula, please DONâ€™T through it out! Instead, add it to your skillet. Jim took the above vegetables and cooked them in a skillet over medium heat with coconut oil, white wine and leftover chicken. 4. Leftover Grains: Instead of throwing out or giving your leftovers to your pets, think about incorporating them into a new dish. For example, there were several occasions this month, I was left with extra cooked quinoa, which is often thought of as an amazing side dish or cold salad. I decided to go a different route and make an appetizer for the Cape Cod Heirlooms Farm to Table Dinner. These little cakes can be the perfect finger food for your guests or can be a great protein for a meal with added vegetables.
Little Scallion & Quinoa Cakes 2 1/2 cups cooked quinoa 4 large eggs, beaten 1/2 teaspoon sea salt 1/3 cup finely chopped scallions 1 onion, chopped 1/3 cup Romano Cheese 3 cloves garlic, finely chopped 1 cup whole-grain bread crumbs 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil First, combine the quinoa, eggs, and sea salt in a medium mixing bowl. Then, stir in the scallions, onion, cheese, and garlic. Add the bread crumbs & stir. Form mixture into twelve 1-inch thick patties. Heat oil in a large, heavy skillet over medium heat. Add patties, cover, and cook until bottoms are deeply browned. Flip patties with a spatula and cook the second sides until golden, about 7 minutes. Remove from skillet and cool on a wire rack. Serve on a platter with red pepper dip. Red Pepper Dip 1 cup of roasted red peppers 8 oz of Cabot Whole Plain Greek Yogurt In a food processor, combine yogurt and roasted red peppers. Blend until fully combined and smooth.
words Jen Villa photos Dan Cutrona
Jenny Fragosaâ€™s work is odd and quirky, yet wildly appealing. Jenny has been a working artist on Cape Cod for over 10 years. She shows at various galleries throughout the Cape, New England and New York and currently works out of her home studio in Hyannis. Originally from Ohio, she is a self-taught artist and her work often incorporates symbols of childhood, both whimsy and dark. She works in a variety of mediums including monotype, encaustic, mixed media, and drawings. Jennyâ€™s work is unique, in that it makes the viewer
think, not only about the content of the piece, but the process itself. Following non-traditional techniques in her production process and working with a lot of layering, she enjoys viewer reaction. She often works from drawings and adds layers of paper, texture and paint. Many of her pieces are monotypes, which are original mono (meaning only one) paper prints. She also rarely titles any of work, leaving it up to the viewer to find a context and relevance. When asked what her favorite part about being an artist she claims, “watching people look at it when they don’t know I made it. I love that.” So, between the presentation and the thought provoking content, viewing Jenny’s work in an experience. Most of her work incorporates imagery reminiscent of a childhood doodle or sketch, either through color, design or literal figures. There is a playful spirit to it, but within that, a sense of social commentary, discontent and acknowledgement of the human state for better or worse. Within all those factors of interpretation, the work is aesthetically pleasing. It’s work that makes you think, possibly confuses you, yet you want to hang it up in your living room. As an artist, she embraces the reaction. She claims her ideal viewer feels “any strong emotion, just not a mild tempered reaction. That’s my biggest fear, when someone sees my work and feels bland.” She achieves quite an admirable balance of visually stunning pieces and challenging subjects. Jenny claims to be very process oriented, a self-proclaimed process in the way of “complete disorganization.” She admits she is rarely prepared with the correct or needed materials to start or finish a piece she is working on. She enjoys working this way because having things out of their “expected” places allows for a more free flowing mind to emerge. Simply put, her process is “just start, don’t overthink it and to be honest” in her drawings. That honesty and simplicity rings very true in the pieces themselves.
Jenny is inspired by “reading, listening, watching, and living.” She is also inspired by crabbing, “I love crabbing on the cape, old school style with raw chicken and string, that always helps.” That inspired quirkiness and authenticity makes for a great creative starting point. Her impressive artistic talent can parlay that sense of humor and awareness into a cohesive, attractive piece of work. She recalls that she knew she wanted to be an artist when she was just four years old and saw her dad, “drawing on a napkin while out to dinner with “important people” and he cared more about the napkin then what they were pretending to say.” That ‘napkin drawing’ mentality can be seen in her work today both figuratively and literally. Jenny’s artwork could be seen as a bit edgy for the Cape. Ironically, it is often edgy in content, yet manages to appeal to a wide array of audiences. Using “pretty” lines and shapes and a visually pleasing color palette helps translate the work to a mass appeal, but I think the content connects with most viewers on a human level. Whether we understand the commentary or not, we actually feel something and most people want that. As an artist on the Cape, she credits local artists Vicky Tomayko, Lorrie Fredette and Bob Bailey as inspiration and teachers. She loves that she is an hour from Provincetown and an hour from Boston, embracing being in the center of what she feel are the best art scenes in the state. “I don’t paint Hydrangeas, so I try and focus on the rawness of the Cape.”
Her work can currently be seen locally at Spilt Milk Tattoo and Gallery in Hyannis and Gallery Ehva and Tao Water Art Gallery in Provincetown.
Rainbow over Truro. Photo James Joiner
Eat: The Harvest Gallery
“I feel like I’m making choices for the greater good,” explains Michael Pearson, owner of the Harvest Gallery Wine Bar in Dennis, as he arranges cheese and cured meats on the bar for a photograph. With a new menu launching this month, and bolstered by a new chef – James Lavoie, formerly of the Wild Goose Tavern in Chatham – Michael is embracing the buy fresh buy local mentality with an almost entirely farm-to-table approach, many of his goods coming from within 100 miles. “That’s just it,” he continues, animated. “I’ve made choices in the past for business purposes, but response to this has been so positive I feel obligated to continue this cause.” Known throughout the mid-Cape as a haven of culture – a typical evening will combine local art and music alongside harvest-fresh food and a rotating wine and beer list – the new menu is the final stage of a metamorphosis begun when the doors first opened. “Harvest has always lived up to its name,” Michael elaborated. “Honestly, harvesting art was the first mission, music the second, and now harvesting the food is the third. The wine and beer are the elixir that bind all these things together.” The cheese he is laying out is a case in point. With four of them from Massachusetts, one from Vermont and another from New Hampshire, he has a detailed back story for each. The meat is another example. While from as far away as San Francisco, it is traditionally only available at this quality as an import from Italy. This may just be the tip of the iceberg, Michael claims, admitting himself to be an “addicted optimist”. “Maybe if I’m lucky, someday it can all be from right here on Cape Cod,” he smiles, squinting past a bright autumn sun that beams intently through the wall of windows. “Then we’d really be completely local.” Visit the Harvest Gallery Wine Bar at 776 Main St (Rt 6A) Dennis or www.harvestgallerywinebar.com
Photo James Joiner
James Joiner photos
CCYP Back To Biz Bash
In Your Eyes: Lyza Roderick
Last Gasp Boat Ride
James Joiner photos
James Joiner photos
WOMR Cran Jam
Green Drinks at Fisherman’s Daughter
James Joiner photos
THE BALLAD OF THREE EYED BILL by Joey Mars
Three Eyed Bill drank a lot of swill. Used to date One Eyed Jill. Then one day things began to change. Three Eyed Bill became deranged. He used to walk down the street with no pants, eating popsicles, looking for romance. Then one sunny afternoon in May, just a couple of days before he went away, Three Eyed Bill began to say. “This here town has gone to hay. Y’all better watch out for judgement day. The end is near” Bill would say. “You folks around here are gonna pay!” Just then, Bill began to wiggle. Busted out a paint marker and began to scribble. Doing little pictures with twisted little sayings. Old Bill as usual pushed it too far. He had gone and graffiti’d up the police man’s car. Sherrif Lou did not take it as funny. Bill had drawn 17 hairy trolls, 2 snakes and a bunny. Three Eyed Bill was hauled off to jail. He was locked up and fed mackeral from a rusty pail. Now Bill is waiting on the judge. He got a visitor one day. It was Jill with some fudge. Seems Bill had painted a love poem on her house during his craze. It had
touched Jill’s heart. She felt sad and apart. Perhaps she could reconcile with Bill. She sure could try and perhaps she will. Looking up from the gift, Bill said “Thanks for the candy. Sure is nice to see ya Jill. Fudge will come in handy.” He gave her a wink and his eyes began to shift and shiver. Strange sounds came from his jaws as he began to quake and quiver. He started tugging on his pants and fumbling for his belt. He had a hankering for a popsicle, he likes them best as they begin to melt. Sheriff Lou warned Bill to keep on his pants. Bill ignored him as he went into one of his rants. “You people are all gonna pay. Just wait for judgement day!” Bill took off his pants and dropped the boxers as well. Ripped off his shirt and let out a yell. Jill began to cry. She was a fool to try. She said good by to Bill and walked home from the jail. She packed a few things and bought passage to sail. Two days into her trip the wind began to wail. It was too much for the crew, too much water to bail. The waves were crashing over the bow. The time to abandon ship was now. One Eyed Jill did her best floating on the broken mast.” We think of her often as we look to the past. Never found, body never brought back. Sharks probably ate her for a midnight snack. Bill has only gotten stranger. There was the winter he lived in the Christmas manger. Convinced he was a goat, Bill slept next to a plastic Mary, never wearing a coat. Don’t see Bill too much these days. Hear he still walks around in a haze. He has been featured on graffiti web sites and zines. His drawings sold in galleries, poems published in glossy magazines. His lore has grown quite large in that hipster scene. They love Three Eyed Bill, the crazy graffiti machine.
Red Nun Fest
James Joiner photos
James Joiner photos
Made On Cape Cod Converse-ations by Amanda Converse Before Todd and Beth Marcus opened Cape Cod Beer, they were known to experiment at home making beer based concoctions. One such concoction was beer brittle. The idea for actually selling beer brittle was in the back of their minds for years while they built their local craft beer business. But when John Cicero, the owner and candymaker from Cabot’s Candy in Provincetown learned of the idea, he toured the brewery and asked to take on the challenge of making beer brittle using Cape Cod Beer. According to Beth, they “of course said ‘YES’ and sent him off with a case of growlers.”
Collaborations are nothing new for Todd and Beth, who officially opened in 2004. They have partnered with other local businesses, such as The Underground Bakery in Dennis to make a Spent Grain Bread with Cape Cod Beer’s spent grain from the beer making process, as well as Truro Vineyards and Beanstock Coffee Roasters to make specialty beers. Cicero experimented with the beer brittle in his shop, which was established in 1955 on Commercial Street, returned to Cape Cod Beer with the product shortly after, and according to Beth it had “ The prefect thickness.. not sticky or clumpy..and just the right amount of ‘beer flavor.’ We were hooked!” Cape Cod Beer and Cabot Candy began by selling it in their establishments allowing any skeptic to have a free sample. Soon after, they began wholesaling the product across the Cape, producing it in Provincetown and packaging it at the brewery. According to Cicero, “most people take very well to the flavor, and the response has been phenomenal.” He describes the flavor as salty, buttery, with peanuts that have been roasted to perfection, and a lingering flavor of Cape Cod Red Beer hops. Cape Cod Beer Brittle can be found at Big Vin’s Liquors, Chatham Village Market, Craigville Package Store, Harwich Spirit Shoppe, Kappy’s, Lambert’s Farm Market, LUKE’S of HARWICH, Luke‘s Super Store in Yarmouth, Main Street Market, Old Barn Liquors, Pennies Liquor Market, Pleasant Lake General Store, Plymouth Liquors, Seascape Spirits, Seaside Liquors, Seven G’s Liquor Shoppe, and Wellfleet Marketplace. To find out more information on Cabot’s Candy visit cabotcandy.com and Cape Cod Beer visit www.capecodbeer.com.
A campfire at the Sandy Neck full moon drum circle. Photo James Joiner
Lungs burning, legs cramping, eyes watering, sweat dripping… Knees abused by years of skateboarding creak and crack, each rotation sounding more and more like something may give at any moment. “To your left!” Swerving, swaying, attempting to hold a line, to follow that yellow ribbon like it were Alice’s brick road, the swish of slightly overweight middle aged folks cheerily passing you, treating this as though it were some sort of Sunday vacation. Which, I suppose, to many it is. This was the first year I rode my bike in the Cape tradition that is the Last Gasp, the ride (emphatically NOT a race) from Sandwich to Provincetown, 62 miles of scenic byway to be completed in six hours or less, which, when you spend most of your days bathed in the Internet’s cold blue glow, is an awful lot farther than it sounds. Not one to over-estimate, we started half an hour early (see above about this not being a race). Within ten miles of the start my wife and our friend Laurie (AKA last month’s Dinghy cover alumnus) were seldom-seen specks on the horizon, leaving me behind to drown in weeks of overconfident braggadocio and the heavy heel of reality weighing down upon an already heavy frame.
We started a half an hour early, chuckling to ourselves at the thought of relaxing with a couple cold ones from our teamâ€™s namesake (Cape Cod Beer, of course) as the stragglers pedaled in. Now it was just about an hour later, and I was being handily passed by, well, everyone. The
Angie and Laurie, waiting for me. Again. Photo James Joiner
leaders, a pack of spandex-clad alpha males cheering and jeering each other whilst jockeying for position, had long since floated past, a day-glo apparition in the sunny morning. As it quickly became apparent that I would be relegated to the ragged ribbon of stragglers that no doubt stretched like a refugee trail along route 6A, I put my head down and tried with gusto to summon the inner strength athletes claim to find under great duress, when the chips are down and it’s go time. Inner strength? No. Bizarrely overwhelming craving for Oreos and Ruffles potato chips? Yes. Typical. The first water stop, twenty some odd miles into the race in Dennis, came and went, a sea of happily cheering people. Spurred onward by a refusal to collapse in a heap onto a mass of strangers, I made it another couple of miles before toppling sideways onto the softest piece of lawn I could locate. After eating what may well have been the most unbelievably delicious protein bar ever created in the history of artificial powdery energy bars, I was back in the saddle – albeit gingerly – and on my way, determined to at least make it to the second water station, located in South Wellfleet. Which, might I add, is a really long way from Dennis – just saying. Existence became a tunnel view of handlebars and road, sweat dripping past almost as quickly as curses muttered. Familiar landmarks were vaguely noticed, pictured ahead and becoming carrots on a stick, then disappearing behind, cast aside like any vestige of dignity as I slowly, painstakingly pedaled forward, hoping the bright yellow of my jersey would perform opposite its intention and somehow guide an errant driver to end my self-inflicted misery. The distance from the Orleans rotary to the real estate office in South Wellfleet that housed the water station – and gateway to the most brutal part of the ride, of course – is not that great.
You can do it in less than ten minutes in summer traffic, if under fossil-fueled locomotion. Under beer-and-burger fueled locomotion, the time-space continuum opens up and renders the distance roughly that of Cape Cod to Timbuktu. I canâ€™t accurately guestimate the time it took me to slowly, yet victoriously, meander into its welcoming confines, but I can safely assert that I have never, nor will I ever be, happier to be somewhere. Were I able to maneuver my sore mass enough to roll over once hitting the ground I would have kissed its yellowing grass. I instead settled for a wan smile as my wife and Laurie sauntered over, perkily discussing the last 20 miles of riding. How does one nonchalantly die in a grassy field surrounded by his peers? I donâ€™t know, but was determined to make it happen. Never let â€˜em see you sweat. Which, based upon the sea of brine and acrid stench surrounding my beached bulk, it was a bit too late to be concerned with. Fifteen minutes and a couple stale peanut butter and banana sandwiches later I pushed off, weaving like a drunken bovine in the general direction of Provincetown, chased by words of encouragement from folks who no
doubt hoped that when I went down for good – and end that was very apparently to all around me coming sooner than later – it would be somewhere not on their watch. It was just a few miles further, up a hill so massive I still cannot believe it was on Cape Cod, that something with my bike got swimmy, the rear wheel wobbling and fishtailing. I dismounted, taking stock of a tire that was flat to the rim. I’ve never wanted to hug someone for throwing a beer bottle out their car’s window, but to whomever it was that littered on that particular stretch of sandy highway in Truro, leaving a sparkling trail of jagged, rubber-piercing fragments, I have hefted many a pint in your honor since. As the repair / straggler van picked me up and drove me, ducking low in the front seat, to the boat that would transport my sorry carcass back to Sandwich and the celebratory clam bake, I reveled in the fact that the human body has no remembrance of pain. By the time I had packed my hobbled bike away and changed into clothing that didn’t resemble the skin of a festive sausage, I was already planning for next year’s ride.
I’d like to note – and honor – the folks at the Last Gasp for their amazing efforts and especially for raising the staggering sum of more than half a million dollars each year to be distributed, in entirety, to a handful of local non-profits, all in a grassroots and fun manner. Next time you see founder Bill Murphy at the bar, buy the man a beverage or two. Heck, pick up his dinner, too. He’s earned it.
Young at Heart Chorus
by Debi Stetson
Every now and then, you meet someone who models successful aging—someone who somehow transcends age, and is still learning and growing and creating. Such people have a different sort of energy than many others. They remain curious about life, open to adventure. That describes virtually all the folks who make up the aptly-named Young@Heart Chorus, a group ranging in age from 73 to 90 who do in retirement what lots of teenagers long to do: Rock stages around the globe. With a genre-defying blend of rock ‘n roll, Blues and Soul, Young@Heart brings amazing energy and talent to concert halls from London to Tokyo. What began three decades ago as a little singing group and blossomed into a veritable movement is still very much “Alive and Well”—the title of their last show and CD—and now the group has a brand-new 30th Anniversary show called “This is Getting Old.” Young@Heart is bringing that show to Cape Cod for a special performance to benefit Cape Abilities, a nonprofit organization that provides jobs, homes, transportation and more for people with disabilities on Cape Cod. This is a perfect fit, as Cape Abilities, like Young@Heart, is all about abilities, defying stereotypes and helping people live fully. The concert is at 3 p.m. on Sunday, Oct. 14, at Barnstable Performing Arts Center in Hyannis. If you love music, you won’t want to miss this. And if you plan on getting old, you shouldn’t miss this. Young@Heart will show you how to stay out of the proverbial rocking chair and keep rocking instead. If that’s getting old, bring it on. TICKETS: $65 and $35; purchase at www.CapeAbilities.org or 888-71- TICKETS, or call Cape Abilities at 508-778-5040, ext. 855.
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