We visited a place I’ve driven by many times but never stopped the other day. The Newcastle Public House…
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Housed in a building dating back to 1845, you knew the minute you stepped inside it was a local spot despite its proximity to the tourist heavy Damarriscotta.
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Laid back and casual with distinctly potent portables.
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The bartender has a heavy hand so beware the Moscow Mules, they literally kick.
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Crab cake appetizer? So good I didn’t waste time taking a picture of the husband’s required French Onion soup. Which btw, he approved.
The menu was varied with a twist on New England favorites.
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While deciding … we met a colorful local resident, the kind that makes my husband beeline for the bar everywhere we go.
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He was a hoot and we enjoyed some interesting conversation before our meal.
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Which turned out to be fabulous. For me… barbecue shrimp and grits with roasted broccolini.
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For the spouse? Some very large and juicy General Tso wings.
As you know, I love to blog about the strange things I find when thrifting and antiquing. Past posts have been filled with creepy old dolls and vintage oddities. The weirder the better.
So imagine my delight when I’m scrolling Facebook the other day and find this group…
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Make that 148,401.
This is my tribe!
Here are a few of the delightfully bizarre things people have posted.
Though I try to avoid it, I had to go down in the cellar the other day.
I hate our cellar since it’s dark, damp and filled to the brim with my husband’s junk.
When last I spoke of it, he was in the middle of a supposed organizational remodel which involved putting up a plywood ceiling, painting it white and covering the walls in foam board insulation.
Why?
Other than him being bored in the early days when he was still retired, I have no idea.
This is what one of the completed sections looked like the other day.
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If you look closely and peek through the crap you can see the white ceiling and foam board walls.
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This was the next section to be “improved”.
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Filled with rusted metal curiosities.
Gathering what I needed, I headed back upstairs and couldn’t fail to notice this…
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An old mismatched mattress and box spring. Thinking WTH and where did that come from…. I knew if there was a mattress, a bed couldn’t be far behind.
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I found that in the garage.
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Turns out the old gentleman my husband plays pool with now and then was clearing out a spare bedroom and wanted to give away the furniture.
And you know free is my hoarding spouse’s favorite word.
What will he do with it….
Give it away, sell it, let it rot down in the damp basement of horrors?
After a dreadfully long hiatus, our contractor has returned to finish our bedroom windows and replace the two doors to the deck. He spent the first full day outside replacing the siding, shutters, and gutters as well as finishing off the exterior trim on the two windows that were installed in October.
Yes, it’s been that long.
But since the new doors arrived unfinished, they needed to be painted.
Which is when it started raining … and kept raining for an entire week.
Of course it did. I expected no less.
There were long discussions about taking the doors back to his shop (too far) or painting them in our basement or garage (too cold and damp) but there was really only one place that fit the dry, warm bill.
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Yes. There’s now a painting station in the man cave/Barn Mahal. And the view from behind the bar looks a little different.
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This is not ideal and may very well interrupt my weekend cocktail (s) …
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But it’s a necessary evil.
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And they’ll look a damn sight better than any sloppy job I could do once they’re in place.
I’m not a resolution maker. Never was, never will be. My willpower for just about everything is non existent so I refuse to set myself up for disappointment.
January first is just another day for me. I’ll be the same snarky, slightly ridiculous person I was December thirty first. Though admittedly, there might be a bit of a hangover involved.
No trip to the big city is complete without us trying a new libation destination. On this particular day it was Batson River Brewery and Distillery.
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I’d heard wonderful things about this place so it didn’t surprise me to see it was packed ten minutes after opening.
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They take their Christmas decorations seriously here and as I was looking around my husband grabbed the last two seats at the bar.
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Cocktails were holiday themed, so I started with the Where Are You Christmas.
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The only thing wrong with it?
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The small glass. I could happily have downed a pitcher’s worth.
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I read they consider the decor ‘upscale hunting lodge’ but to me it had a more upscale urban, industrial vibe with exposed pipes and metal vents.
The ceilings were high and the music loud. The menu? Brunch on Saturday… which we weren’t expecting and didn’t want.
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I opted for the Caesar salad, which was dry as a bone and utterly unremarkable, but I washed it down with a quite lovely Yule Tai that countered my disappointment.
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Husband had the smoked tomato soup which he said was tasty if not plentiful.
Their beer?
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Nice doggie glass withstanding, nothing to rave about.
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A very large Santa was on the second floor and we watched a few tipsy patrons climb up to have their picture taken with him.
Talking with our neighbor at the bar, we discovered there are actually four Batson Rivers scattered in southern Maine, each one with their own personality, menu and cocktails.
Intrigued, and with nothing planned for dinner… we decided to drive to Biddeford and check out another one.
River's world..... 