Though my husband isn’t crazy about their food, I finally wore him down enough for another evening at one of my favorite cocktail bars, The Blind Pig.
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Located in downtown Gardiner…
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In a lovely old brick building…
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With a terraced outdoor seating section…
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We made straight for the bar… because that’s where the magic happens. The Pig’s cocktail list is epic and changes with the seasons. I started with a pear mojito because it’s my go to there and never disappoints.
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Luckily the salmon baked in parchment paper with roasted fingerlings and asparagus tickled my spouse’s tastebuds so much he agreed to rethink his previous Blind Pig ban.
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I had a yummy lamb bolognese, and because we were sitting under a pig wearing a pink cowboy hat…
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A blackberry lavender margarita as well.
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Dessert was homemade lemon blueberry cake…
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Which the husband didn’t like and I was forced to finish by myself.
A trip up the coast to Belfast brought us to Darby’s Tavern.
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It was built in 1865 and still has its original tin ceiling.
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The bar screams prohibition era retro.
And speaking of the bar…
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A ruby red grapefruit martini hit the spot.
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I think the Babe approved.
Darby’s is famous for it’s “from scratch” kitchen, and lunch did not disappoint.
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I started with homemade cornbread with blueberry maple butter. Ooh la la! So good I didn’t want to share.
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But the husband started with a sinfully rich cream of broccoli soup and kept reaching for my bread.
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Above the bar? The antique Budweiser lamp my husband has been trying to cajole off his brother who owns the same one . When you switch it on, the lamp lights and the Clydesdales start walking. Real man cave material, but Darbys wouldn’t sell theirs either.
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I ordered off the specials menu, though I had no idea what made a crab’s toe peek.
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Didn’t matter, it was delicious. Toes et al.
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Husband chose a broiled haddock in scampi sauce with a fresh green salad and maple Dijon vinaigrette.
We’d been given a gift card for the Broad Arrow Tavern which is located inside the Harraseeket Inn in Freeport.
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We’ve been many times before, some with good results, some with bad. It’s a lovely old place…
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But on this day, shortly after new corporate owners had taken over operations… we found it lacking.
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One admittedly decent cranberry margarita in, the husband decided the new menu was too small and contained nothing to satisfy his appetite so we headed down the road.
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To the oh so pricey but usually delightful Tuscan Bistro…. where we always sit at the bar because the husband likes to chat with someone other than me.
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I started with the strawberry sangria…
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And a few tasty crab cakes.
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Husband opted for Allagash White and savory meatballs.
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Passion fruit lemon drop martini was up next… which was when I noticed a strange bottle behind the bar.
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Dough ball? You know I had to ask.
The bartender said it was a cookie dough flavored whisky which sounded horrible, and after a sniff of the bottle I discovered it was just that. At this point the man sitting next to me said, “I used to be a dough ball in high school, maybe I should try it.” I laughed and as often happens at watering holes… we spent the next hour talking to him and his girlfriend. They were a lovely couple and I enjoyed the casual chatter while we ate.
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A grilled chicken risotto with asparagus for me, which looked good but wasn’t.
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And a glazed salmon with fingerling potatoes and garlic green beans for the husband, which didn’t look good but was.
I wasn’t going to order dessert… but it was shortly after we finished our meals that our new bar buddies noticed hubby’s USMC hat and the conversation turned to the military.
It was then I knew all was lost.
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I ate my Tiramisu by myself as the man sitting next to me discovered his father (who lives in Florida) had served in the same place at the same time as my husband. While my guy was Force Recon in Quang Tri and Dong Ha, his father was a 46 pilot ferrying Marines in and out of the area. This lead to a rather long telephone call between the two Vietnam vets…. with me twiddling my thumbs at the bar alone after the couple moved on to greener pastures. It also found me silently cursing the Marine Corps hat that in one way or another always leads to this scenario.
My husband likes this new restaurant called the White Duck. I’m not sure why as every time we’ve been there the food has been mediocre at best.
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The cocktails? Not much better.
This trip the lavender margarita sounded interesting.
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And though it was a pretty purple… it tasted more like the sugar shaker ran amok than lavender. Sickeningly sweet which is not what I want in a cocktail. Sadly the cup of clam chowder wasn’t any better. Thin, watery, full of potatoes with very few clams. Boo to that.
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I hate when the cocktail list is just phoning it in.
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The husband ordered the supposedly home made baked mac and cheese. I make this at home and never think to call it a meal. Theirs was dry as a bone with virtually no flavor. Boo to that as well.
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I stuck with the pub burger because it’s one of the few things they do correctly here. Charbroiled, perfectly cooked with melted cheddar, bacon and served on a brioche bun. With a cold Down East hard cider of course.
The destination for our caravan of furniture, household items and basically all the rest of my SIL’s unclaimed worldly goods was here.
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The charity rummage sale at our local town hall.
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We missed the regular donation hours by a mile but the kind ladies that are organizing the sale opened the building for us late in the afternoon.
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After giving them 3 truck loads full of things from our cellar last week , and then these three loads… I’d say they’re going to have a very profitable sale this year.
By the time we were through carrying it all in the hall, we were literally through as well. Hot, tired and thirsty.
And you know what means.
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A trip to our local pub… where we bought everyone drinks and a meal as a way to say thank you. We even talked the rummage sales ladies who don’t drink into a drink.
One of my favorite watering holes serves brunch on Sunday morning… which we’ve never tried because the husband has a standing date for pool in the man cave with a friend. But last weekend the friend couldn’t make it – so up to the The Blind Pig we went.
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And what better way to start brunch than with a flight of Mimosas?
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Since it was Maine Maple Sunday.. an annual celebration of tapping trees and sap houses… all the cocktails that day featured the sweet treat.
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Warning: Consumption of alcohol also impairs your ability to complete a sentence.
As you know my husband never liked the food at the Pig until a recent visit changed his mind. On this day the owners sat next to us at the bar and told us they’d just hired a new cook and had hopes for higher quality meals.
Ever the optimist and always searching for a good batch, I ordered their biscuits and gravy with home fries.
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While the sausage and gravy were alright, the biscuit was like a brick and the home fries were overcooked and greasy. ( Please note the mini strawberry rhubarb margarita. I received it free after telling the bartender the one I had on our last visit was too sweet. Free drinks? I love this place… even if the food is hit or miss)
I didn’t have a chance to photograph the husband’s meal because he sent it back too quickly. His eggs were cold, the dark toast he requested looked like it never saw heat and the homemade hash was a revolting mess of tough ham, hard sweet potato and some unidentified green. Disappointing to say the least.
Looks like it will be a while before I get him back there.
Next to one of my husband’s favorite summertime flea markets there was an old farmhouse.
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Which was turned into a family restaurant…
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Which went downhill over the years and became a rough and tumble biker bar called the Montsweag Roadhouse.
Now? It’s undergone another transformation and has become the Montsweag Farmhouse restaurant.
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Its a nice place to stop for a drink when you’re cruising up (or down as the case may be) Route 1.
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We’ve had quite a few meals here but never know what to expect. Sometimes it’s good, other times not. On this particular day I started with an interesting cocktail.
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The apple barn spritz.
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For lunch? An anemic Caesar salad for me and a horrible bowl of French Onion soup the husband ending up sending back.
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He switched to the mussels which he didn’t really enjoy either.
Bean sprouts on mussels? Just.. no.
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I moved on to a very tart cranberry margarita…
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And the vegetable risotto with sautéed garlic greens which was divine.
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Rich, creamy and very flavorful.
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The husband ended with a really nice blueberry crumble for dessert… and the fact that I tried to cut through the ramekin thinking it was a crust speaks to how potent my drinks were.
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In case you’re wondering where the word Montsweag originated.
It’s Maine. We have lots of Native American names.
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