Salt and Seals
Salt and Seals
with Slack Tide Maine. plus cold water dipping retreats, dance parties and more.
I love that in Maine I check tide charts (to assess maximum sand exposure and tidepooling possibilities) before scheduling a summer playdate. That I even get to talk about tides in my day to day conversations.
I even love hosing off sand from my daughter’s feet before entering the house, my dog’s weekly bath after eating crabs along the shore. I love that there are an equal number of seagulls as sparrows flying overhead, moose just a few hours inland. We check ferry schedules as opposed to monitoring traffic delays.
But what I love most of all is the discernible (though unspoken) luck that we all feel. We know how lucky we are to live in Maine - and that luck gets spread and magnified without us even realizing. It seeps into acts of generosity, in our work, in celebration and sharing. It encircles our day to day, our interactions with strangers. Our luck is continuously churning itself into pride.
And a business bursting with hometown pride, Slack Tide Maine, a small batch, hand harvested and solar dried sea salt company in York, has been on my radar for quite awhile. I’ve been curious about the woman owned and operated family business (run by Aunt and Niece team Cathy and Lauren along with childhood friend Sarah) because, well, it’s delicious - but mostly because it’s harvested right here in Maine. There’s something undeniably special about sprinkling a bit of this state I love so much across a dish.
When I connected with owner, Lauren Mendoza, about possibly checking out the salt yard - she not only happily extended an invite to her property, but insisted I join her on a boat ride to harvest water to witness the full operation from start to finish. Even more generously she invited my family to join - and posed the following question over email: “would you be up for a boat ride to Boon Island?”
A ride to Boon Island, I learned, has absolutely nothing to do with salt. It has everything, however, to do with generosity. And seals. Hundreds of seals.
With my family and Lauren’s family (husband, Dave, and two kiddos) in tow, we made the 45 minute ride out to Boon Island - a barren, rocky 300x700 foot island with a spooky and sordid past. Lauren, a born and raised York native, filled the journey with stories of Slack Tide’s beginnings - while she has been making salt for years, it was during COVID when it turned from hobby to business - and the myriad of ways they continue to evolve as a company. “I hope they’re still there!” Lauren said, as we slowly inched toward the island.
First, we heard them. Soft roars and grunts echoed across the water. And then, in unfathomable numbers, they appeared. Hundreds of lazy seals sunbathing against rocks, curious ones dipping into the sea for relief and white baby seals gliding softly into the water while their massive elders looked on from their chosen turf. As waves continued to crash against their rocky home, the seals happily barked, played and circled our boat.
I have never, ever experienced anything like it. But Lauren and her family had, of course. And while this multi-hour excursion is in no way a part of their salt process and story, Lauren wanted to share a piece of her Maine and her story with my family. That good ole lucky feeling masquerading around as pride and generosity again.
It was only after our loop around Boon Island, miles away, that the salt process began on our way back to shore. Deep in the middle of the ocean, far from sunscreen laden beach goers, Lauren and her family pulled buckets of fresh, clear water to bring back to the salt yard. On a normal outing - one with less seal sightings and less people aboard - they pull the water using a hose connected to a small pump and fill 55-gallon drums.
Once docked, we made our way to the Slack Tide property. Lauren walked us through the process (a process meticulously studied, refined and perfected without any prior background knowledge) to achieve the flakiest salt. Harvested water, like the buckets we just pulled, are transported to their greenhouses located on the York River. From there, the water gets solar evaporated to reach perfect salinity. They then bring the brine indoors and gently heat it to produce the finishing salt - resulting in about 6 weeks of total work to reach a jar of salt.
Inside the Salt Shed (which you can make an appointment to shop at!) the real magic awaits. The shed is stocked with salt blends like Fisherman’s Blend Lemon Dill Sea Salt, Bold Coast Blend Bloody Mary Sea Salt and of course, their Boon Island Ghost Pepper Salt. The shelves are also lined with salt inspired goodies - like this “Salty” sweatshirt I nabbed (and will be wearing every day.) And if you’re lucky, Lauren will show you her “show-pony” jar - a jar filled with perfect, large salt flakes that she couldn’t bear part with.
With her daughter by her side, Lauren walked us through the different herbs and mix-ins to create a perfect blended salt. And as if they hadn’t been generous enough with their day - Lauren invited my daughter to make a custom blend of her choice. Sifting through the pairing options ideas - like Basil (with tarragon, rosemary, oregano) and Garlic (fennel, onion, black pepper, rosemary, thyme) - my daughter went rogue with a blueberry and lavender blend. Lauren’s daughter applied the logo while my kiddo beamed at her creation.
We also watched Dave load up their onsite smoker. Filling the smoker was wood from a fallen apple tree at the Elizabeth Perkins House in York - resulting in a smoky salt collaboration between Slack Tide and the Old York Historical Society. The salt will be a part of their silent auction towards the end of August.
I know Lauren feels lucky raising her kids in Maine and working alongside her family in the place she grew up - because she told me so on the boat. But she didn’t need to.
Because that luck is evidenced in her warm welcoming of a stranger (and her family.) In boat rides and snacks, in seals and porpoises. In pride driven hometown collaborations, in forever memory adventures. In flaky, delicate, pristine salt made from our sea.
No need to throw it over your back for good luck. It’s made from the stuff.