February 8th

Elmer’s Store

396 Main Street 

Ashfield, Massachusetts
(413) 628-4003

ElmersStore.com

Breakfast 

Monday – Friday 7:30am – noon

Saturday 8am – noon

Sunday 8am – 1pm 

Store Hours:

Monday – Thursday 7am – 6pm

Fridays – 7am – 9pm  (Dinner goes from 5 – 8:30pm)

Saturdays and Sundays – 8am – 6pm.

AnnaBread

Fresh baked Thursdays through Sundays

Gretchen’s Baked Goods

Call us with your orders

The Inn at Norton Hill

InnatNortonHill.com

I just got friended by my dad on Facebook.  Me, I got nothing to hide that I would show on Facebook anyway, but then I thought about the nieces who may.  I know that one of my nieces told me not to judge her when I friended her, and so I don’t;  the stuff she’s doing is way less dangerous than what I was doing at her age! 

So then I started thinking that all grandparents should sign up for Facebook and friend all of their grandchildren.  I’m thinking that if every kid had their grandpa as a filter for everything they thought about posting, they would probably keep themselves out of trouble later on when they apply for jobs and wish they hadn’t put those stupid naked pictures of themselves at the last office party on their page.  So that’s my thought;  I’m still trying to find goodness in Facebook. 
Welcome to the Land of Tiny Streets!  The more it snows the less space there is for the snow to go and the streets get narrower and narrower up here!  My own street is, I believe, only passable by one and a half cars at a time.  Fortunately we don’t have many cars on this street so we haven’t had a stand-off yet.  But even Main Street is down to the two lanes, only, no room for swerving.  The other snow-wonder is how icicles know what to do—which way to do.  You’ll have all these icicles going straight down and then, all of a sudden you get three snaggle-tooth ones that jut out from the building.  Why did they do that?  Are they just making a statement?  I have one outside my door that suddenly has a curvaceous twist to it.  It didn’t have that day before yesterday;  what is it up to?

Update on Mr. Christmas Tree who I threw out last week: 

So, he was lying there in the snow at the back door, trying to get back in, looking sad and desperate, when all of a sudden a roof-alanche slid off and buried him!  He just has a few plaintive little branches grasping at the air, frozen in time.  Poor guy, this whole thing is my fault:   I brought him inside, I made him the toast of the living room, I took him out of his natural habitat and warmed him up with lights, made him feel safe and warm and then I PUSHED him out into the snow!  Just PUSHED him!  I feel bad. 

Okay!  It’s almost Valentine’s Day!  And we’re celebrating it this Friday night with our

Night of Love and Chocolate!

(there are so few events that we actually do more than one year that you know if we’re bring it back it’s because it was so good the first time!)

And this just in:

Chef Jim Dion is coming back to make the dinner portion of our evening!  Mary will be out of town this weekend, and so our old buddy Jim is coming back to make the dinner hors d’hoeuvres!   (I have no idea how to spell that word and neither does Spellcheck.  If you do, let me know before it drives you crazy.)

Elmer’s Second Annual

Night of Love and Chocolate

This Friday, Feb 11th beginning at 5pm

At the Inn:

 

Hors D’houvres and tapas-sized dinners;  whatever you want,

As much as you want – made by Chef Jim Dion!

Then:Chocolate!

Chocolate Mousse Roullade Cake

Flourless Chocolate Layer Cake

Raspberry Ganache Tort

Espresso Ganache Tort

Vanilla Ginger Ganache Tort

Strawberry fondue

Pretzels & cookies fondues

 

Chocolates

Caramels

Raspberries

Mints

Espresso

Dark Chocolate Truffles

Habanero Truffles

Hot Pepper Toffee Popcorn

$25 per person, includes all but the alcohol

You don’t have to be in love to enjoy this-

You can just love chocolate and good company.

Call 628-4003 for reservations

AND—in case you were wondering, it IS the last minute! 

This is our dinner for this week, so there isn’t another one.

That is on Friday night.  On Sunday afternoon the 13th there’s a gathering of Mohawk parents getting together at Elmer’s at 3:00 to talk about Mohawk and all things Mohawk.  (The tribe, the hairstyle – but, I think, mostly the direction of the school.)  So if you have kids there, or kids headed there, you might be interested in attending!

And then on the 19th we have music.

And this is going to be part of the

You Have to Trust Me That She’s Great

Music Series

featuring

Cynthia Summers

You trusted me on Spencer Bohren and you were not at all disappointed!  In fact, about 65 of you were converted into fans of his.  And so you have to trust me on this, as well.

Cynthia Summers was part of the Chris Smither singer-songwriter workshop that was held here a few weeks ago.  On the last night of the workshop, all the participants gathered at Elmer’s to play for each other and for Chris.  It was closed to the public, but since I own the joint, I got to be here. 

Scared the crap out of most of the musicians to play outloud, by themselves for Chris, but this woman Cynthia Summers just blew everyone away with her voice and, with the first song she sang for the group.  She was so good!  They went around the group, performing and then came back to Cynthia again.  This time she did a rendition of George Gershwin’s “Summertime” that knocked everyone out again!  So at the end of the whole session that night I asked if she would come back to Elmer’s to play, solo, and she said yes.

So she will be here on Saturday the 19th of February playing at Elmer’s. 

AND, our guest chef that night will be Son!  Do you remember Son?  My godchild from New Orleans who used to cook here?  Well, since you last saw him he has been studying at Johnson and Wales Culinary School in Providence Rhode Island and cooking at the Hotel Northampton, and, as they say in New Orleans, my boy can burn!  (Meaning:  He’s a really good cook.)
So he will come back that night as our guest chef, standing on his own with his dinner! 

He’ll be serving: 

Adobo Grilled Chicken con Cicharrones

Caribbean Faro Risotto

Veggies (I’m not sure which yet)

Green Salad

Dinner will be $10 and the concert will be $5 and I promise you will be impressed by both!!

So here’s something:

The Bagshare Project at Elmer’s!

You know how at the Creamery they have all those great bags that people made that they have for people to borrow to take their groceries home in, and then bring back?  Well, the same people who sewed those bags would like to involve us!  

They need everyone’s help in

Donating fabrics, neckties, webbing and sewing supplies

You can donate pre-made bags

And they need people to sew the bags! 
They will hold a sewing circle on February 20th at 2pm at the Bullitt Reservation for anyone who is interested in working on the project.  If you’d like to help, please call Layla at 628-4485 

And now let’s dig around in our mailbox and find the Rob Report!  The Rob Report has just been bought by AOL for 325 million dollars.  Isn’t that good?

The Rob Report

My favorite mug

Somewhere deep in storage somewhere in Minnesota is my favorite coffee mug. At least I hope it’s still somewhere, and that I didn’t forget that I broke it. As Favorite Mugs go, it is remarkably plain. It was part of a Pier 1 table setting that mom may have given me when I first moved out. Knowing my tastes, she gave me plain gray. Four plates, four saucers, four cups, plain gray. I still have a couple of the plates, but the mugs were definitely the first victims of the inevitable breakage that happens with everyday use. Except for one mug that managed to hang in there with only a chip broken out of the rim, right where your lips would go if you’re right handed like me.

And I don’t know why it became my favorite mug. In our family, coffee mugs are the go-to last-minute Christmas gift for siblings. Just gift wrap a pound of beans and a mug and you’re set. My sister Nancy has a cupboard full of my thoughtfulness. Likewise, I had no shortage of fancy colorful mugs to choose as my favorite. But every day I reached for the generic gray mug with the chip in the rim.

I never gave it Favorite Mug status until years later, when things weren’t too good. It’s that sort of thing that makes you remember the little details of a life that was once so much better. Even the coffee mug you used every day. You know… the gray one with the chip in it. Times were good when I had that mug. That was my Favorite Mug.

When I moved to Ashfield, one of the first orders of business (after finding out where to buy beer and getting a place to live) was to open a bank account. Logically, I wanted to use the same bank as my new employer. Once upon a time, I was working at a company that was having what I would politely call a bit of a cash flow problem. Every payday they would give me my check and I would spend my lunch break literally running through the streets of downtown St. Paul, dodging buses and knocking over old ladies to get to their bank and cash my check before the money ran out. Then I would run six blocks though the skyway system to my bank and deposit the cash and hopefully have time to buy a burrito before my half hour was up. I wasn’t the only one, either. Several other people ran the same race. We called it the company fitness program.

Now that I was starting life anew, I figured having my account in the same building as Elmer’s account might save me some time.

As I sat at the bank desk finishing the paperwork, I spied a Bank of Western Massachusetts coffee mug with a little sack of coffee in it all shrink-wrapped with a little ribbon on top. A gift! I asked Brenda who was entitled to such a wonderful present and she told me that if I referred someone to them and that someone opened an account, I would get that gift. I said I didn’t think that was fair and they should give it to me, just because. That’s when Brenda reminded me that they just put $50 cash in my account as a gift, just because.

But wait! Nan had referred me to this bank. Therefore, wasn’t she eligible for the coffee cup? Why yes, she was! I was instructed to take the mug and give it to Nan with their thanks.

I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong. I actually gave Nan the mug with their thanks, because that’s the honest thing to do and I didn’t want to start life anew by being a thief. From what I recall, Nan was simply delighted.

About six months later, I was rummaging around the back office of Elmer’s looking for something-or-other and I shoved a big pile of boxes aside and there it was on the floor, covered with dust, still shrink-wrapped with the little ribbon on top. “You know” I said to myself, “Screw this! If she doesn’t want it I’m taking it.” Which I did, because I wasn’t as ethical as I was six months earlier. It was another two or three months before I got around to telling her about it.

 “YOU CAN’T HAVE THAT MUG! THAT’S MY MUG! THAT’S MY FAVORITE MUG!” she yelled. I had to laugh, not because I was being a jerk, but because of the way she yelled it. It was so reactionary, as if she had said it a hundred times to her brothers when she was little. Substitute “mug” with “doll” or “magic marker” and you get the idea. This was the start of one of our longest-running inside jokes.

And no, she wasn’t getting the mug back either. By that time I had designated it my new Favorite Mug, coinciding with my new life. And just like my last Favorite Mug, it’s pretty plain. Just a regular cobalt blue mug with a white bank logo. I love it.

But a couple of months ago the inevitable happened: I spazzed a bit and knocked it to the floor. Okay, I’m not that sentimental. I didn’t break into tears or try to find some deeper meaning to it. I broke a mug. But it was my Favorite Mug. My first thought was to replace it with an identical copy before I could register any grief. But that was a problem because the bank changed their name to the commie-sounding People’s United Bank, and their mugs were now probably red with a hammer and sickle. Not like they even had mugs anymore with a commie name like that.

 That Thursday I went to the bank, like I do every Thursday, and asked if maybe, just maybe, there might be another one of the old mugs in a back room somewhere. Sherri disappeared for what seemed like an eternity. And just as I was coming to grips with the fact that I had broken the last Bank of Western Massachusetts mug, Sherri triumphantly appeared holding the actual “last” mug. It was still in its plastic wrapper even.

So I got my F.M. back as if nothing had ever happened and I was happy. After all, you can’t just select the next one. It has to happen naturally, over time. So I plan on keeping my spazzing to a minimum when I’m around the mug. After all, that’s the last one, right?

Right? 

Nope, last week I went to the bank and Sherri handed me a box with six of them, all in their plastic wrappers. She was very exited for me, for she knew the saga of the mug. And you know what? I got a big kick out of the whole thing. And you know what else? Nan is finally going to get her mug. Her mug. Her favorite mug.

And I’ll have plenty of replacements on hand. They’re all lined up on a top shelf in my cupboard with their plastic wrappers still on them, ready to go. As I was putting them on the shelf, I had a little déjà vu. Something about a guy who gets his prized possession smashed by an adversary but casually grabs a replacement from dozens just like it in a closet.

Yep. I think that’s it.

Take care, 

Rob

Ed. Note:  What a great story!  And when I came in just now to write the Nan Report (which was just purchased by Google for $4.50 plus tax, ) I found my FAVORITE mug sitting on the waitress counter!  I called Rob to say, “I see my favorite mug!  What’s the story behind it??  Where did it come from?” and he said, “You’ll see. . . .”  And now, I do.  Thanks Rob, that’s my favorite mug.  By the way, your car is my favorite car, too, so I want it back, and soon.

Verizon Proof E-Mail!

HEY GUESS WHAT!

This e-mail is coming to you from high atop the Elmer’s Offices at www.ElmersStore.com!  And no one can take it away from me!  Not Verizon, not the spam detector, not a computer virus, not even the blue screen of sorrow because it doesn’t really exist!

(I once had a boyfriend who said that from now on he was only going to take virtual showers because they would be so much faster.)

But with all the goings-on of late, I wanted to remind you about a few things:

1.  Saturday (tomorrow) night is

May Erlewine and Seth Bernard

in Concert at Elmer’s

Dinner is at 5pm and the concert is at 8pm

(You can hear their music at www.Earthworkmusic.com)
Dinner is Lasagna (Meat or Vegetarian), Field Greens Salad and AnnaBread

$8

The Concert is $10

Get your tickets now!

Number Two:

Sunday afternoon is

Emergency Preparedness Workshop

3pm at Elmer’s

Learn what to do in a winter disaster so that you save yourself and the people you love!

Number Three:

Thanksgiving is next week already and we have

Pies and Cakes, Muffins, Scones and more that you can order for the day made by our new baker Gretchen who just brought out home made bagels to the case!  That girl just keeps baking and baking and baking!  So if you’d like something, call us to place your order by Monday mid-day.  You can find the entire list of what she’ll make on our website at www.ElmersStore.com!

Number Four:

AnnaBread for Thanksgiving

Call us at Elmer’s (413) 628-4003 and let us know what you’re looking for and we’ll hold it for you.

Number Five:

Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving we close at 3pm.

Thanksgiving we’ll be closed all day!

The only problem with this new method is that it won’t let me make letter larger.  It’s kind of like the Elmer’s E-Mail on Botox.

It ain’t easy runnin’ a restaurant

 
 
 
 
 

Rob (with Pancake), Mary (cool one in the middle) and Nan (goofy one on the right)

Ray Lamontagne mentioned us in an article in Rolling Stone Magazine, so naturally, we got carried away and created our own cover.

Last week in our cliff-hanger to this week, we introduced a new section of the e-mail called “Letters to the Editor.” The actual reason we did it was because we got an e-mail called, “Dear Editor” (which we printed, it was the one about the Minnesota Twins.) And we get a fair amount of e-mail, most praising and some not-praising us (few go so far as to actually damn us. One lady did over Fall Festival because we weren’t serving bacon, but she did that in person and then apologized for it and hugged me.)

Here’s one of the more interesting criticisms we’ve gotten:

 Glad I checked your menu before I went into your probama restaurant..All I wanted was some breakfast and heard good things about your place but looked at your menu and was disgusted by your political views..It doesnt mix well with food and will not give you any business and when capitalism ends you wont have to worry about profits anyways..Hope your presidents spending and the recession is treating you well.

I wrote him back and told him that I am a huge fan of capitalism (and cited my reasons why) and told him my thoughts on what I thought Obama was trying to do for small business and then I said I was being funny on the menu (with the Obamalette) and that I liked puns. (By the way, I later added on the menu: “And the great thing about the Obamalette is that it goes on your children’s tabs! You don’t even have to pay for it!”) He might have liked that part, but I don’t think he ever came back. It’s okay. We might not be for everyone.

When we get positive mail I usually write back, thanking the writer. When we get negative mail, I always write back because I think that information and idea exchange is a good thing, even when it begins with criticism.

The other day I got a letter in the mail and my initial reaction was to write back, much like I did with the guy who doesn’t like Obama; rationally explain my though process and to apologize for misunderstandings. But then I saw that, not only was there no return address, but the letter was un-signed, as well. And then I knew the truth:

This was my divine punishment for all the late-night e-mails I send to my bank. They were recently bought up by a larger bank, and, while their ad-writers claim to have the same great service, they really don’t and it shows up through their very un-customer-friendly website. (I explain that I still love all the live people who work in the branches, but I HATE their website and how in-convenient it is.) So I write them. Often. Late at night when I’m doing my on-line banking. The difference here is that they have ALL my information. (Plus, I sign my e-mails.) But the writer of the letter, I have no idea who it is, beyond that it was sent from Connecticut.

So, still with the burning desire to answer all negative mail, I am printing it herewith in its entirety, and will answer it.

Dear Elmer’s,

There is a disconnect between who Elmer’s is on paper and who Elmer’s is on person and it’s disappointing.

We visit my son in Ashfield frequently. We’ve come to Elmer’s for breakfast over the past 4 years and it’s good food…don’t get me wrong.

We signed up for the newsletter and always enjoy the fun writing and exchange between the owner, Nan and the fellow Rob who is the counter/barista person. When we are waiting for a table we have noticed all the good press that Elmer’s has received, proudly displayed here and there on the walls and counter

The waitresses are great.

This feedback is mostly for the owner and the counterman.

Sometimes the owner greets us (and she should recognize us by now) and sometimes she doesn’t. My son, who lives here says she is very erratic in who she deems worthy of a greeting and who she ignores. The folks who get the most effusive, welcome are 1. tourists (who are usually just passing through and might never return) 2. Locals from what she must consider the ”in crowd” ie those with money, social prestige because of their connection to the arts, media, academic or such, or maybe simply because of their longstanding tenure in town. There are local, regulars (like my son and others) that rarely get a personal greeting (except by the waitresses.) It’s a shame because he and his friends are the very type that will be eating breakfast there in January . . . in other words, it’s obvious to my son that the value of “regulars” who come year round (not just for foliage or music or festival) are the ones who real pay the bills in breakfast establishments around the world

Now on to the counterman. He is really funny on paper, but he is either very shy in person or just very grumpy….. but he rarely interacts in any warm, friendly way. He never seems to remember (regular) peoples names, we never get any glimpse of the humor that he uses in his writing… he just seems like he rather be somewhere else and he doesn’t like or care to get to know where he is.

So my advice. To the owner; Be democratic and consistent in your hospitality. Don’t just be welcoming to folks who you think might have read your publicity or to those that impress you somehow. Do try to hide your quest for fame it’s not becoming to you or your nice store. And thanks for removing so many of the insipid, bossy signs outside.

To the counterman. Lighten up. Learn some names and engage in conversation. Act like you are interested a little in the people who are paying your salary on a regular basis.

This is tough feedback. I’m sorry it if hurt but you are running a community store.

Thanks for the good food, the good humor in your writing and the hard work that must go into all that you do there. It’s really just little tweaking of attitude that’s needed.

Dear Person Who Mailed the Letter from Connecticut,

It’s been about two weeks since I got your letter and I’m still not sure what I want to say here. In my greeting of people, I don’t think I could be much goofier. I do have to admit something, however, and that is a terror of not recognizing people. People come in every week and I know I know them; I know I probably even know their names. I KNOW that I know many of their names and when I look up from that counter I totally freak out. Sometimes I’ll hazard, “James!” and there is an absolute eternity that goes by before I see in their face that I either have it right or that I do not at all. Lord knows I’m trying, but maybe it’s just too many faces and too much information to retain. Maybe I’ll know in several years if I end up with Alzheimers what the problem was, but whatever it is, it’s really scary.

Here’s problem number two: Sometimes I realize that I have greeted someone in a large way and I have thus embarrassed them. I realize that I play completely off the proverbial “energy” of the person walking in the door. If I feel they’re up to it, I’m larger than I am with someone I think really doesn’t want that much attention. I try to be quiet with quiet-seeming people, but I don’t think I ignore anyone. Sometimes people come in and I think, “Rut-roh, do I know this person, or do they just look like someone I know?” And, in that case, rather than erring in the wrong direction, I go middle-of-the road and try to be pleasant, but not make the person think, “Why is she acting so friendly to me? I don’t even know her!”

Restaurant-owning is a lot more stressful than you thought.

I’m sorry I haven’t made your son feel welcome. You are the second person ( . . . . or, maybe the same one) who has told me that their son says I’m unpleasant. So I’m thinking it’s something I have with sons. Little sons, I can goof around with all day. From about the age of 13 through 45, I always get the awkward feeling that they think I’m a pure-tee idiot so I mostly just try to make sure they’re content and comfortable and getting something to eat. But ignore them? I’m not ignoring them. Just trying not to offend them.

The only actual ignoration would happen if

One or more of the staff is moving to Iowa or going back to school next week and I have no one yet to replace them

We’re out of coffee

We’re out of eggs

“ “ “ hot water

The furnace is broken

The cooler is broken

It’s still icy outside and people are coming in

A baby is pitching a fit and the people around him are not baby-people
We’re out of orange juice

The cook just cut his finger

The dishwasher forgot he had a soccer game

We’re out of napkins

“Every week?” You ask dryly. “Every day,” I say honestly. Sometimes I think about sponsoring a “Manager for a Week” contest and see who lasts the longest.

And the part about my not appreciating locals. I spend more time awake at night than you have slept in your whole life trying to figure out how to show locals how much I appreciate them. I’m thinking that most of them know it. Let me know who you are if you don’t! Because I do!

As for Rob, he is very shy in person and sometimes he does get grumpy. The stress of making lattes for 200 people while ringing all of them up at the same time on a Sunday morning means being at a heightened state of alert for six hours without a break. I also watched him Sunday before last in the middle of huge rush, explaining to an elderly lady how the credit card machine works. Extraordinarily patient with the walls of the customer sea bearing down on him. How to put the waitress tip in. Where to sign the ticket. “What? Where do I sign it? Do I sign this one? Where does the tip go? On this one? Oh. On this one. How much should I tip?” Very sweetly. She never knew the crush of customer impatience that was lining up behind her because Rob was protecting her from it. I was proud of him.

So in review: I don’t know that I can be consistent in my hospitality. I try to just be happy with everyone.

As for hiding my quest for fame, restaurants post their good publicity. That’s why we’re here—there’s got to be some reward, because it’s certainly not in the finances. People like us. Yea!

As for the insipid bossy signs, outside. . . . you mean the ones that say, Watch out for snow and ice sliding off the roof from 25 feet above that will kill you? Or the ones that the animal-caring people asked me to put up to remind people that keeping an animal in a car with the windows rolled up in the heat will kill the pets? Either way, someone is going to die and I don’t want to have it happen at my place.

Finally, yup, there is an awful lot of hard work that goes into all that we do here. Thanks for recognizing that.

Nan

Hey y’all, send us some more letters to the editor! This is fun!

Composting and Enlightenment

Holly and her disciples.

Everybody needs a guru. Someone who is intensely devoted to their path, and can skillfully lead others in their righteous calling. You want them to be wise and kind and clear-sighted. You want them to not make fun of your ignorance. Elmer’s has found such a person, and her name is Holly Westcott. Compost is her religion.

Last year we spent a week collecting all our potentially compostable waste into one place and then approximated it’s volume. Holly took those numbers and designed a compost bin to match. Last week we took delivery of our beautiful new bin, and last weekend we started using it. Composting seems like a lark, but the nuances are deep, dark mysteries to unravel. We are beginning the journey.

Sunday is our busiest breakfast day of the week, and last week was no exception – we fed 168 hungry people, and had the detritus to prove it. At the end of the day, Nan, Danielle, Joey and I stood in front of our new compost bin with the various assortment of inedible compost ingredients and amendments and tried to channel Holly.

(We are still feeding Lauren and Erik’s pigs, by the way – Snortcha and Ham Daddy – but we still have a considerable amount of food-related waste that pigs don’t really want or we can’t fit in their bucket at the end of the day)

Smash up the shells of about 250 eggs – check. Maybe we can mix those with some of the gooier things to get some aeration? What about this pot of cream of mushroom soup? (Sad story, but I won’t make that mistake again – the sherry vinegar and the sherry bottles look really similar when you’re in a hurry, but putting that much vinegar into soup really doesn’t taste good). What about leaves in the soup, and in the grease drawer tailings – will that work? All right – you throw it on, I’ll spread it out. How about a nice layer of coffee grounds and filters before the final layer of straw? Do you think Holly would approve??

Holly came by today, and like any great teacher, gave us both praise and gentle suggestions for improvement. Whatever she says, we will do. Hopefully we are on our way to being one with the compost!