When I told people I was spending two weeks at a “Maine cottage,” a few people expressed sympathy. I guess they were thinking something rustic, borderline sketchy, tucked way up in the North Woods beyond impassable roads destroyed by blown out culverts. No running water, horrific outhouse, and - unthinkably - no internet.

True, the cottage had no internet. Or even working cell service. From any provider. But it wasn’t quite the unabomber shack some envisioned. Try a two bedroom, wood paneled affair overlooking the Atlantic, with just Monhegan Island between you and Ireland. The property of one of New York’s finest French chefs, all the cookware is copper, naturally. Including the bizarre implements whose function would only be known to those who cook for a living. The appliances were enormous and commercial grade.

I still can’t figure out how they got the refrigerator through the door.

The cottage’s best feature was not, surprisingly, the fancy kitchen. Nor the quick 20 minute proximity to Oxbow. Instead, it was the was clearly the width-of-the-house long covered porch. With this view.

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