Notes from Maine - 2026/01/11

January 11, 2026

This year is already flying in Maine. We’re about 3% through the year and roughly 34% done with January. I suppose it’s the same numbers where you are. I’m reading a sci-fi book right now and it has me thinking about different solar systems with strange orbital periods.

We had a very cold December here. In comparison, January has been balmy. Our snow is melting fast and leaving behind nascent spots of mud. It seems like a transition to warmer weather. We all know it’s not. There’s a cold, cold wind waiting just over the horizon. When we’ve dropped our guard completely, it will return.

Inside, it has been hot—too hot. On Thursday, I baked bread. There was no real reason for it. I just like to revisit old skills every now and then. Bread should be as simple as following instructions to the letter. Somehow, there’s experience needed to make it come out right and I was afraid that those memories had evaporated. So, I tried. 

Thursday night my friends come over and we go out to dinner. One friend brought a little jar of chili seasoning from an Asian grocery store. Mr. Mule is the spokes-animal on the label. The name of the stuff is in Chinese, and the brand is Laoruzhi, from what I can tell. “Super Hot Chili” is written prominently several times on the jar. Several of us had the Chili sauce with the bread I baked and a little cheese. It was good. It wasn’t exceptionally hot, but it was good. After that appetizer, we went out for Thai food.

The next day, when I decided to have leftovers for lunch, I messed up. Remembering that the sauce hadn’t been terribly spicy, I added a bunch to my noodles and heated it up. From the aroma, I should have known the depth of my mistake. I had to keep a respectful distance from the steam so my eyes wouldn’t water. Honestly, it still didn’t seem too spicy. The flavor of the chili sauce is wonderful and I had a nice little lunch. 

In addition to the flavor, one of the primary reasons I enjoy spicy food is because it makes me feel a little lightheaded. There’s a slight giddiness that comes with the burn. It’s like running flat out and then settling into a comfortable rhythm. After lunch on Friday, I coasted right past that comfortable feeling and teetered on the brink of distress. I wasn’t having digestive issues or heartburn or anything. I just felt unsettled. I felt like I was standing on shaky ground that might give way beneath me. I wasn’t sure what was below me, but I knew it couldn’t be good. There was a lit fuse inside of me and I didn’t know what was going to happen when it finally burned all the way down. By bedtime, I was very concerned. Up and moving around, I was okay. I feared that lying down would shift the balance and I would be up all night. 

Somehow, it was all okay. 

I made it through the night with a few weird dreams and woke up feeling okay. I haven’t returned to “Mr. Mule’s Super Hot Chili” yet, but I suppose I will with a bit more caution. I’ve read that people get more sensitive to spicy food as they get older, experiencing heartburn, indigestion, and discomfort. I suppose I’ve been lucky so far. In Maine, if you want spicy food you have to source it yourself. Ketchup is considered a spicy condiment here. So I’m only in danger if I continue to be a danger to myself.

I guess that’s always true, in a variety of ways.

I made bread again yesterday. It was slightly better than Thursday’s bread. I’m using the “Fast White Bread” recipe from Joy of Cooking. It’s both simple and incredibly complex. There are some interesting theories as to how bread was invented. Early hunter/gatherers chewed on wheat until their teeth gave out and then switched to grinding away the husks? Maybe they combined that crude flour with water to make a paste and some accidentally fermented, making it rise when it was cooked on hot stones? I wonder how many generations of experimentation and accidental discovery went into the recipe. 

I think I’ll put away the bread pan and come back to it again in a few years when I feel like I’m forgetting again. It’s the little details in the recipe that need to be refreshed occasionally. “Add 1/4 cup at a time until the dough is moist but not sticky.” That’s a crucial step. After the rise and the punch down, the dough has to still be moist enough so that it will create a contiguous loaf. Too little water and it will fall apart when it’s cut. I could write myself a note in the margin, but what would I say? “Make it look right,” is not informative, and pretty much implied in every recipe. 

I guess I’ll just have to learn again next time.

Hope you’re well,

Ike