Cafe Maplethorpe Blog :: PEI Restaurant

It is Tuesday morning and I am both behind in my chores and exhausted. I was already up when the dog started barking at 4: a.m.

Not a great way to start my week.

In my world-the land of hungry and weary travelers-we push hard from Tuesday through Saturday. Every day there are tourists spending the night and having breakfast before exploring Prince Edward Island. At noon  the lunch crowd, local residents and tourists, in search of some friendly conversation and a plate of something healthy and interesting. And yummy–they all like yummy. By the end of the week we are serving supper as well. Some Fridays days I don’t  leave the kitchen except to go to the bathroom.

Sundays are different.

On Sundays, we serve a lovely breakfast to guests at the B&B, and that is the last and only meal I cook. Once the breakfast dishes are cleared, cook’s holiday begins. I can go back to sleep, catch up on reading, take a bike ride or go to the movies–whatever I want. I might choose to work around the house, but I do not cook. The family can forage, go out to dinner or starve. (No evidence of starvation around here, so they are coping.)

As the years pass I have been increasingly protective of my Sunday hiatus. I need the break to recharge and restore some balance in my own life. When I have a great Sunday I am ready on Monday to get back to work, making the breads, desserts and cafe staples that will carry us through the beginning of the week.

I gave up my Sunday this week to prepare supper for 6 of our overnight guests who were all heading home on Monday morning. For me it wasn’t a hard decision. These travelers had been lured from Alberta, Florida and Maine to PEI by the promise of culinary delights available at the International Shellfish Festival and Fall Flavours Festival. These were exactly the kind of tourists the provincial tourism establishment target in annual marketing efforts–older adults with no kids at home, dual income and a wide range of interests, planning a multiple night stay on Prince Edward Island.

As we chatted over breakfast about their PEI holiday that was about to end, they expressed great disappointment with their PEI food and dining experience. Among their culinary complaints:

“Seafood Chowder” they described as “potato soup served with a view of the ocean.” Poetic but pathetic.

Mussels that were overcooked to the point of being “pencil erasers,” then served cold. Now, really…how can you screw up mussels?

Steamed lobster that was “nothing special.” Fresh caught PEI lobster, nothing special?

This was in the midst of the International Shellfish Festival and during the month-long ‘Fall Flavours’ Culinary event!

This is the kind of stuff that drives me crazy. Two million dollars worth of marketing spent to get these people here wasted! They were ready to go home and tell their friends not to waste their money on PEI.

So I invited the group to have a private supper at Maplethorpe and give PEI one more chance to WOW them. I visited my friends at Captain Cook’s Seafood as well as Confederation Cove Mussels. I made chowder and homemade bread, followed by mussels, then lobsters and baby PEI potatoes. Pastry One contributed a fabulous Italian Espresso Torte. We hauled out the starched tablecloths and antique china and opened our best wine.

Supper at Maplethorpe

It was a wonderful night. The conversation was lively and went on long after the dishes were cleared away. (While the Albertans and Americans debated politics, immigration and healthcare, Jim and I did the dishes. Safest plac for us was in the kitchen.)

Several of the guests reported that we ‘saved their vacation.’ It is always nice to hear a compliment like that and worth the sacrifice of my day off to know that they will go back home now and recommend PEI to their friends.

Just returned from checking our daughter Caitlin in for her first year at university and things didn’t go exactly as I planned.

My husband and I expected to be persona non grata at check-in. Our parental function is to buy all the necessary dorm swag, deliver it to the residence hall, pay all the bills, and then get lost. Really, we get it…this is our 6^th child to get off to university.

But when did freshman year at college become such a weird combination of preschool and sex club?

Waiting in line was, of course, the major activity of the day. After unloading the car, the helpful volunteers explained that while the student waited in the line for her student i.d. card, the parents were asked to schlep the junk up to the room and stow it away.

Okay so far. The elevator was for luggage ONLY, so we took the stairs up to the 6^th floor. 6^th floor. Still okay.

Caitlin’s stuff is now piled outside of her dorm room in the hall and we are waiting to move it in.

Oops! The student i.d. card is also the electronic door key and Caitlin is downstairs in the neverending line getting hers. The Residence Assistant, king of the orange shirt brigade, can’t let us in the room—even though he has a master keycard—because Caitlin isn’t with us. Of course not! If she was WITH us, we wouldn’t need this earnest young man. Despite the fact that we blew all our accumulated savings PAYING for the room, and had to sign a responsibility form for potential damages since Caitlin isn’t yet an ADULT, we can’t be let in HER dorm room to put things away the things WE bought.

Thanks for all the help, pal.

So, we stand and wait. There are minions of orange-shirted dementors roaming the halls, greeting families and poking their cheerful faces into every open door. Every time one walks by and asks how they can help, I tell them to send the RA up to open the door. Same doofus shows up each time, explains that he isn’t allowed to open the door without Caitlin present, and leaves. Every half hour we send a different helpful orange shirt to find him and let us in. This goes on for the entire 2 hours that we wait in the hall for Caitlin to arrive. I figure we might as well have fun while we wait.

Every door has a bright-colored sheet of questions for students to answer and leave posted so that their new neighbors can have a head-start learning the family secrets.

Here is one: “What countries have you traveled to?”

Wow. Glad Caitlin is not in the English Department.

Here’s another. “What did you want to be as a youth?”

Well, I suppose the best answer is that at age 18, our daughter is STILL a youth. A goal of every youth, presumably including our daughter, is to live long enough to no longer be considered a youth. So far, so good. If they are really asking how she wants to earn a living after university is over, the correct answer is how the hell does she know? She’s an 18 year old kid, for heaven’s sake.  But there is not enough room for all of that, so I guess she’ll write either astronaut or prostitute. Whatever.

When Caitlin finally shows up and unlocks the door, we have literally not been in the room 90 seconds when an orange-shirted thug comes to give her a tour. Off she goes with him while we unpack the sheets and make the bed. During bedmaking, three more clueless oranges pop in and ask if Caitlin is in the room. As the room is roughly as large as a small bathroom, I patiently wait for Captain Obvious to jump out of the closet and clear up this mystery. After a suitable pause, I glance in every direction and loudly state that I don’t SEE her in the room. I am informed that as soon as she returns she is to report to the lobby for ORIENTATION WEEK activities to begin. When Caitlin arrives back a few minutes later, she hastily dons her orange shirt and orders us to go home.

Looking at the orientation schedule, I wonder if she hasn’t just joined a cult.

From 7am to midnight, every minute of every day is planned. She is never alone. She must wear the orange uniform at all times. Meals, when available, appear to lack any sort of nutrition. Tonight, Toga Pub Crawl! Tomorrow, Games in the Commons followed by 2 hours of Dr. Sue, the octogenarian talkradio sex guru. And a condom giveaway! Concert and Dance until Midnight! Next day, Roadblock for Cystic Fibrosis!..Hot Dogs!…Concert!..More Condoms!

We lock the door on our way out. I leaved perturbed because I just didn’t have time to say a few things that I think will help our daughter as she transitions to adulthood.

So, I am going to say them now.

First, just because people plan dumb ways for you to waste your precious time, you are not obligated to participate. Your time is your own and you are responsible for how you spend it. We expect academic achievement for our financial contribution toward your higher education, and this will require you to sometimes forego social activities in favor of study. Have fun at orientation, but once classes start, you know what you have to do.

Second, lots of kids are going to have more things than you have. I noticed lots of new refrigerators, microwaves, fancy electronics and mountains of other new stuff going into those dorm rooms. Your pile seemed pretty small in comparison, much of it used. Here is a summary of an entire semester of Economics, free of charge: wants are unlimited, but needs are not. You have everything you need to be successful.  Spend your money (and ours) wisely. You have a paid meal plan, so get up and go eat some healthy food in the cafeteria.  You don’t need energy drinks, granola bars, fast food or fancy coffee to get through your day.  Designer paperclips are cute, but the plain ones hold your papers together just fine. God knows you don’t need any more clothes or gadgets, but you might want to think about buying an umbrella. Find free and cheap entertainment and save your money for travel.

Last thing. We love you. You are smart and cute and loveable. Lots of guys are going to notice you, and having fun is an important part of your university experience.  Even though you can, you don’t need to have sex with every idiot that wants to be with you. You have some long-term educational goals, and guys need to know that they have to fit into your plans. Stay sober, sleep alone and go to class.

See you on Thanksgiving Break.