Off season hours: open 7 Days, 430p to 830/9p
On the menu tonight:
• Mussels Dijon, Stuffed Bell Peppers
• Teriyaki Salmon, Surf & Turf, Scallops & Pork Belly
• Hot Toffee Sundae, Irish Coffee
The parade started with me, I was the first one through the door. The wait staff, unsuspecting, didn’t give me more than a cursory glance. Foolish.
As I’m seated, the dining room unfurled before me like some quantum physics experiment, coming into existence as my eyes graced it with observation. No sooner had my jacket been peeled away than the waitress (unsuspecting) made a drive-by. Likely expecting to do no more than greet me mid-stride, I laid a drink order on her in effort to let her know it wasn’t going to be a walk in the park with us tonight. She didn’t appear to miss a beat.
Then Ol Boy arrived; I’m pretty sure he was in the car casing the situation to be sure I wasn’t subjected to any nonsense. Precautions, he took them. Tonight he’d have to take them all the way.
He ordered a drink and pin-balled the waitress back to the bar as soon as she dropped mine off. He and I greeted each other and no doubt anyone who saw us, even out of the corner of their eye, they knew it was a secret handshake. They knew we had a secret but they had no idea what it was.
We went a strong three-for-three when Tough Skins showed up and our waitress was ping-pong’d again to fill from the well. The handshake had tamed itself on its rerun. Maybe the gravity of the moment caught up to us, now that the three of us were together. It didn’t feel heavy at the time but … nevermind that now. The table bread and butter had arrived: pretzel mini-baguettes with a fusion butter … is that maple? Is that garlic?
The waitress - let’s say she was exceptional, she was dealt a tough hand, she was playing with one hand behind her back. And she was dealing. She was a saint, complete with golden halo. And we didn’t know if it was our last meal, so we needed to protect and order like it was going to be. We waited for our waitress, our guide, in less than hushed tones, mostly reaction shots, Roy Schieder chumming up the water and realizing how small the goddam boat really was.
Bless her heart, she rolled with us, she led when it was time, she fell back when that was right, she played the tambourine while we played pass the pistol and all took our shots at the moon and split the pieces when they landed.
Mussels Dijon: a pasta bowl full of mussels in a pool of garlic & shallots and a beautifully reduced dijon mustard with white wine served with another pretzel baguette. There are chunks of pecan smoked bacon bits, tomato, and parsley. On the side they casually dropped some of the best french fries I’ve had in a long time - thick cut and crispy battered. I could have taken a bag out with me. But it wasn’t that kind of ride home.
Stuffed wood fire roasted & halved Bell Peppers filled with seasoned veggie rice, red sauce, and lemon aioli. I’d say it could use more red sauce, use a little more of something mixed in so the whole stuck together - the sum of its parts falling away isn’t good in my business. Maybe I’m biased.
Tough Skins went with the Teriyaki Salmon and it was good. Seared with a teriyaki glaze, sauteed broccolini, bell pepper & scallion buttered rice (T Skins also ordered the Stuffed Peppers). I took a look at his plate and got a little lost in the tuxedo sesame seeds … like I was watching an alka seltzer dissolve in a glass of water, closer to Travis than Jean-Luc. It wasn’t until I heard the clang of Ol Boy’s plate hit the hardwood table that I snapped out of it.
He got the Surf & Turf, which was presented well. A nice cut of blacked prime rib with a couple cajon seared tiger shrimp impaled through the top of the steak with a knotted toothpick. Roasted garlic mashed (never loses), horseradish creme, fresh herbs, and haricot vert. It was a victory. But I have a habit of winning the order game. Tonight was not the night for me to lose that crown. That was a good sign - we hoped it would bode well.
The seared Scallops & crispy Pork Belly were so strong as a pairing it was served simply with a brown sugar sweet potato puree, some sauteed broccolini, and a tasteful maple drizzle. There was a real boldness to how it was served and plated: at first it looked like there wouldn’t be enough to fill somoene up, especially next to Ol Boy’s prime rib … but the richness of the flavor and the density of the protein, the incredible flavor in the fat content, gave it more than it needed to be the best dish we put on the table that night.
On nights like these - on every night like this one, and we’re a superstitious crew - we will have a dessert of some kind. Ol Boy & Toughy decided to split the Hot Toffee Sundae, more or less deconstructed but looked exceptional. Their reviews were confident but subdued. And it took them some time to finish. I wanted to get moving but I didn’t want to rush these guys. So I ordered an Irish Coffee and took my time putting it to rest. Remember, I messaged them with my eyes, it’s dessert, it’s nobody’s funeral.
We finished, it was done. In turn we dabbed the corners of our mouths for the sugar delivered in its various iterations. Then we gathered ourselves … more long, wordless looks around - not only at each other but the room, the windows, the decor … I’d like to come back. Would we be back?
A couple of slow nods to each other and we got up, it was time. I hitched my pants up, asked the boys if they had their balaclavas (they did), and we all headed out. Let’s go to work.
•••••
Do you have a favorite year-round restaurant you’d like us to review, or that you’d like to review for us?!
Please send us your ideas, your journals, your voice notes, your pictures, your videos, we’d love to make you a part of HyperLocal.
editors@hyperlocalcapecod.com
