Good grub

    I was very pleased with the Star Herald’s choice for the “County Faces” feature of July 2nd.
    As a gormand who knows and appreciates the difference between good grub and “Cuisine,” haute or otherwise, I frequent the Mapleton Lunch whenever possible. In fact, I even drive all the way down from Portage Lake to flirt with the staff, eat an Aroostook omelet and irritate Jimmy Thompson by finishing the crossword puzzle in the free Bangor Daily. I find all the compliments to be dead on.
    Although born in Presque Isle and not truly “from away,” I do live in Westville, N.J., which is not very far from Cherry Hill the uncontested snob capitol of the world and I have dined in some trendy restaurants where I was made to feel lucky for the privilege of paying outrageous prices for highfalutin food that was artistically “Plated” and served in an “Ambience.” In plain English, this means that your four ounce filet de boef avec petit pois at $42 (A la Carte, mind you) is served on a plate the size of the steering wheel on a Mack truck and garnished with some alien looking vegetation and if I saw this stuff coming up to my garden I take a baseball bat to ‘em. And this amidst a décor that Louis XVI would consider a bit over the top.
    The grub at Mapleton Lunch is far more down to earth and therefore more satisfying and less stressful to eat. And, of course, this is the very reason we eat out in the first place. The food here is not “Plated” nor “Drizzeled,” as if Wolfgang Puck himself had done it or the sou chef at Chasen’s. Sometimes my peas are actually touching my mashed potatoes or maybe a little bit of gravy is dripping over the rim of my plate. My Sprite is served in a plastic tumbler no Waterford crystal here, but I enjoy it more than an overpriced Chardonnay served by a snotty waiter who has noticed with a sneer that only Richard Widmark could muster that I’m wearing Wal-Mart trousers and my shoes are from Marburns and causing him serious concern about the size of his gratuity.
    The ambiance at Mapleton Lunch is far superior to anything that Cherry Hill can come up with. I walk in, nod to everyone and everyone nods back. I take my customary stool at the counter. The girls all greet me by name and scurry to hide the crossword puzzle. I get to eavesdrop on some good old Aroostook County lingo and it is music to my ears. A welcome relief from “Jersey-ese” where everyone sounds like a casting call on the Sopranos’ set. More often than not I bump into someone I haven’t seen in a long time and I get to re-affirm and validate the who’s and what’s of my life.
    The ambiance at Mapleton Lunch is fine with me! And did I mention the wicked good food? I once had a salmon loaf with home-made egg sauce that had it been “Plated and Drizzled” differently and served in the ambience of a Cherry Hill restaurant with its Paris Bordello décor would have gotten raves from the local food critics. After eating it and wiping my plate shiny with some hearty Aroostook County bread I barely had room for just a scrid of home-made pie.
    If you want some good home-cooked grub served in a friendly atmosphere where you feel at home and don’t have to stand in line with a bunch of phonies in their Bruno Maglies that never fail to squeeze in the line “Jeeze, I hope the valet doesn’t scratch my new Beemer.” – then the Mapleton Lunch is the place. Marburn shoes and all!
    Chapman B. Flatt is the pen name of Nathan White. He was born and raised on Chapman St. in Presque Isle – then called the “French Flat”. He is a frequent contributor to “Echoes” magazine and will work for food.