I took an entire day off work yesterday (well, almost), and the family cruised over to Schoodic Point in Maggie, the Mazda.

On the way home we stopped at an intriguing smoked fish shop we hadn't seen before, called Grindstone Neck of Maine.

Our luck was in.

That was obvious from the moment we met Roger F. Billings, the bristly white-mustachioed co-founder, who wore a long cotton overcoat with his name embroidered on it, the sort clean-room scientists wear.

Roger gave us a tour of the facility, which he and his partner built about 2 1/2 years ago.

Turns out it's an extraordinarily efficient raw materials-through-shipping factory, designed by Roger based on his years in manufacturing, but informed by his partners' expertise as one of Maine's best gourmet chefs.

And it's all of perhaps 4,000 square feet big...

The building was once a house, and backs up onto a berm, which keeps the smokeroom particularly cool, an initial advantage.

Raw material deliveries arrive on the south side, from which the fresh fish is moved into a couple of ten-foot square refrigerated lockers, one of which, according to Roger,

The central room is the smokeroom, dominated by a gleaming silver metal smoker with a red-lit control panel attached. The smoker was designed by a NASA engineer, according to Mr. Billings, and is fed by two rolling carts, each of which can hold 17 trays of fish.

The smoker has a 'positive' and a 'negative' side, which specifies air blown in from seventeen rows of vents, or air sucked out from vents on the north side. The design insures absolutely even distribution of cold smoke across the trays.

Turns out that 'cold', and 'humidity', are key to successful smoking. The wrong measure of either means fish that cannot, as Roger indicated,

Grindstone's fish can, of course, without dissembling...

The smoker is fed by a funnel into which finely chipped wood is fed. Roger sources all his wood from Milwaukee, to which he quickly adds,

Ah-ha.

HACCP refers to the FDA's Hazard Analysis and Critical Control Point inspection process, vetting that facilities are indeed doing what they say. Implemented 30 years ago by NASA to monitor the astronaut's food, it's along the lines of a (not-voluntary) Federal Six Sigma program... Grindstone has to monitor 19 things to comply...

Roger uses cherry wood for some smoking, which means he doesn't have to add sugar.

From the smoker, the fish are moved into the slicing and packaging room. The packaging side (on the North end of the building, with quick access to egress, and to the storage locker whose glass-front opens onto the retail part of the establishment) is dominated by the cutting machine, whose blades are so sharp that it costs $600 to sharpen each one. The warning images all over the machine are .... graphic. Fine machinery = thinner slicing which, combined with G's smoker, means efficiency while still delighting chefs worldwide.

The 'plant' could produce up to 15,000 pounds per week -- but the owners actively manage volume down, even as their web-business is starting to take-off. Remember the asparagus-wrapping...

As if all this wasn't enough, Roger gave us his Finnan Haddie recipe (this recipe source calls it Hockey Night Seafood, even though Denver University's hockey team did beat the University of Maine for the 2004 NCAA title -- but I digress...) for use with his smoked haddock. Think cream-based baking until the halibut's about ready to flake, while a mess o' cubed veggies are al dente'd on the burner next door. Then all brought together for ten minutes at 350 degrees ...

With a crisp Chardonnay, perhaps.

Roger is delightful -- visit the Grindstone Neck website or call him toll-free at 866 831 8734 and 'talk to a real live person.'

And marvel at America's entrepreunerial wonderfulness...

OK, so it's not flying from Homer to Anchorage for sushi, but ...

The family drove across the Island toward Southwest Harbor yesterday afternoon. We parked at the south end of Long Pond, then hiked out about a mile to a series of big flat rocks which jut out onto the water.

After we spread our stuff and the kids ate Oreos, pretzels, and peanuts (nothing but health food for my offspring), we all jumped into the water.

Long Pond is green-ish, but fairly clear; with goggles you can see the bottom until it's about 20 feet deep. Lots of granite, then smaller rock blocks, then other stuff further out.

My son and I took a one-mile swim, the last 1/3rd of which the 11 year-old decided to do butterfly, without stopping. He's on a serious see-how-far-I-can-swim-fly-without-stopping binge this trip. A Michael Phelps media infusion, perhaps.

Back at the shore we played with a very cool glow-in-the-dark underwater frisbee. It really does 'fly' under the surface, slowly, emitting bubbles and looking just like a flying saucer from a '70s 'b' flick.

The saucer was a gift from the kids' Aunt Sal, who passed away very suddenly this spring. We spent some time talking about that.

After we packed up and hiked out we drove first into Southwest to catch dinner at one of our favorite on-shore restaurants -- which is no longer a restaurant but was instead being converted (by a couple of fairly clipped Mainers) for a huge private luau next week. Go figure.

We drove over to Seawall next, but the restaurant there has been turned into a plein air gallery.

So off to Bernard, where we dined at FJ Thurston's Lobster Pound, nestled among about 60 lobster boats as the dusk settled. The kids tried clams and lobster (mixed reviews) and ice cream and blueberry cake (unmixed reviews).

We ran into friends we hadn't seen in 10 years whom, it transpires, vacation here from Maryland every summer -- and have three kids whose ages surround our kids' perfectly. Playdate fodder.

We decided to stop at Seawall on the way home and look at the stars. The Milky Way was positively throbbing. The 11 year-old looked at it for a while and said, "but what if you're a lactose-intolerant star?" The 8 (just!) year-old worried that the tide would come lap us up, so she moved from lap to lap while we took in the shooting stars. ("WHOA!, there's one!" "Where?" "There." "I missed it." "WHOA!" "Where?", etc...)

The Perseid meteor showers this Thursday are supposed to be about the most spectacular in a decade. "Perhaps hundreds of visible meteors per hour..."

We all yawned back across the island to home, then bed.

Blustery day, with the wind shifting every few minutes. The lobster boats and buoys in the bay swing around to point toward the small whitecaps coming at them, now from the northwest.

From the benign to the banal; we're trying to figure out the best way to get access to NBC's Olympics coverage from here. Not so easy, surprisingly...

We can probably get DirecTV here, which should give us access to all the NBC channels carrying pieces and parts (Bravo, CNBC, MSNBC, Telemundo, NBC, A&E, etc etc). But then we'll have to subscribe for a year, even though we really only want the service for a week. And it's still not clear whether DirecTv can offer the local broadcast channels out here (bet that changes once Murdoch is the big player in Satellite TV, too...)

We may be able to pay $3,000 to convince Adelphia to drop a line 800 yards from the road down to our point (there are six homes down here, but it's still $3k).

Or we may just rent a room in a local motel with good cable service -- may be cheaper to go there to watch, than either option above.

Seems like it would have been a good idea for NBC to work with providers to offer a special Olympics-only deal. Buy their entire coverage for $x, including installation/sign-up fees. A big premium if you subsequently end the service, but easy to buy.

Instead their premiums seem focussed on e.g. DVR, and six-channel in-picture,offers. Great for fully-loaded, leading-edge technologists; not great for simpler-tech Olympics junkies.

A seagull floating just in front of our office window is laughing hardily, which seems about the right response to musing about this stuff on such a beautiful day...