Tag Archives: food

Dockside Grille

 

Don’t you love finding a great restaurant?

 

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In a great spot….

 

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With a great view…

 

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And great natural light…

 

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With great lobster art…

 

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And great planters….

 

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As well as great signs?

 

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Not quite.

 

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There were great drinks…

 

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Great crab cakes…

 

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Great mussels…

(So great I only got pictures of the shells.)

 

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More great drinks..

 

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Great salads with rosemary garlic chicken…

 

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And great broiled haddock sandwiches….

 

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But wait, there’s more.

 

 

There was great dessert…

 

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Really, really great Kahlua cake…..

 

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Am I making myself clear here?

 

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Okay, good.

I wasn’t sure I was getting that point across.

 

 

 

Ding dong, the diet is dead.

 

Okay, so I wasn’t really on a diet.

(That’s a four letter word in our house…. and one I try to refrain from using. It’s vulgar and quite upsetting.)

But I was trying to watch what I ate lately so as not to frighten any holiday party goers I haven’t seen all year. Nothing like an abominable snowman waddling into your Christmas soiree to put the evening off kilter.

 

 

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The culprit?

These.

(…and let me preface it by saying I had never eaten a Ding Dong before in my life.)

(Stop snickering. You know what I mean.)

 

 

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But I skipped lunch and went grocery shopping hungry last week….

 

 

(Shut up Justin, I know that now.)

And grabbed the first high calorie, sugary sweet, instant gratification I could find.

OH. MY. GOD.

 

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I had one on the way home.

And one after dinner that night.

And yes, one for breakfast the next morning. Don’t judge.

At first I wanted to rail at all my friends for never telling me of it’s high fructose chemically enhanced goodness.

I was in a sugar induced haze.

 

 

Where had it been all my life?

But then, when I’d finished half the box and could hardly walk past the cabinet without salivating,  (I swear I heard them calling me by name)

I realized –

I was hooked by white crack!

I saw my future.  A 350lb addict walking the streets with a 3 a day habit, shaking from sugar withdrawal and Jonesing for a fix.  Accosting perfect strangers, begging for a taste. It wasn’t pretty.

So I heaved them in the trash then and there. And took the trash out to the garage before I changed my mind.

Heed my warning friends… don’t be tempted.

Run… don’t walk, past the White Fudge Ding Dongs on your grocer’s shelf.

 

 

Don’t be taken in by their siren song, wear ear plugs if you must.

Ignore my advice at your peril.

There’s only room for one abominable at every party, and it’s going to be me.

 

 

Bugs and dinner.

 

 

Please note I did not say bugs for dinner. That would just be weird.

Although, admittedly…. a 3 piece cockroach musical ensemble would have been stellar.

 

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No… I’m talking about the last (and best!) part of the Fairbanks Museum.

Bug art!

I turned the final corner, and came face to mandible face with this beauty.

 

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Isn’t it wonderful? I would totally display this on my front lawn, and perhaps pet it as I walked by.

 

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As you can see, it’s a little large for the living room.

 

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So while the husband was examining some ancient knives and swords, ( He glanced at the bugs and kept on walking. Go figure. ) I delved deep into art made from bugs.

 

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Apparently it’s pretty rare, as evidenced by the fact there were only 8 pieces.

And if you’re not a fan of the creepy crawly…

 

 

You might want to scroll down to dinner… which thankfully, was bug free.

But if you’ve always wanted to see a beetle and moth likeness of Abraham Lincoln?

 

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And George Washington?

 

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I’m your girl.

 

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Yes, those really are all bugs.

 

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And bug art really is a thing.

 

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Ain’t it grand?

 

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General Pershing thinks so.

 

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And so do I.

 

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Now for the (boring in comparison) food part of the blog.

 

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Dinner was at a highly recommended little place called The Creamery….

 

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Which, to be honest, felt like someone’s basement.

 

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The bar was full of locals who gave us the stink eye as we walked in…

 

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But the margaritas were large and tasty….

 

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And while the menu was small, everything we had was perfect.

 

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From the crispy green bean appetizer….

 

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To the goat cheese and maple vinaigrette salad…

 

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My fresh, succulent baked scallops with stir fried vegetable medley…

 

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And the husband’s perfectly prepared shrimp scampi.

I would have loved to try their dessert but…

 

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I hate when that happens.

 

 

 

 

 

Ooh la la! Best meal in Vermont….

 

 

We had to drive to Montpelier to get it, but this little unassuming place was worth the wait.

 

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It was funky inside..

 

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With fabulous lighting and quirky decorative touches.

 

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Red leather, white marble and deep circular booths, smooth jazz playing in the background…

 

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It had that laid back, 1950’s Rat Pack vibe.

 

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I loved it at first sight.

 

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The cocktail list was delivered on a leather bound iPad, and while it was full of maple goodness…. I opted for the fresh raspberry mule.

 

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The menu was endless…

 

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With a whole page devoted to salads. The husband ordered the Vermonter.

 

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And then the French Onion Soup…

 

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And finally the Vermont chicken with roasted brussel sprouts and cauliflower.

 

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Me?

I’m a burger girl, and when I find a good one I will happily crow.

 

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Oh yes….

 

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I’m surprised you couldn’t hear me squeal from there.

Let’s deconstruct this tower of mouth watering goodness shall we?

Buttered and toasted Brioche bun, bacon blue cheese slaw, perfectly cooked rare ground sirloin glazed with a sweet and spicy sauce, topped with fried onion strings and a cherry tomato.

 

 

(We won’t mention the mountain of garlic parmesan truffle french fries I shamefully inhaled. Seriously don’t…. It wasn’t my finest hour.)

And if that gargantuan plate wasn’t enough, I had to try the highly recommended strawberry cake.

I had to…. really.

 

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Yes, it was as divine as it looks….

And I swear if I lived anywhere near this restaurant, I would happily pitch a tent out back and scrounge their dumpster. It was that good!

 

 

Clearly, I would be better dressed…

But you get the idea.

White Horse for lunch….

 

No, we didn’t eat Trigger.

 

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But Trip Advisor did lead us to one of the best restaurants ever.

 

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The White Horse in New Preston Connecticut.

 

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Yo, Trigger. Trot across the street will ya…

 

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It was quite nice inside with warm woods, and a rustic English country pub atmosphere.

 

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Yes, that’s a motorcycle enshrined behind the bar.

 

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But not just any motorcycle. This was a 1920 Indian Scout, the first production year for what would eventually evolve into the famous Chief.

Sweet!!

But more importantly….

 

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I began working my way down the martini list.

 

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The Ginger Horse was first up… and first rate.

 

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While we cruised the menu, I noticed there were some very interesting pieces scattered  around the various rooms.

Take a look.

The husband ordered a chicken tender appetizer, and the presentation was kind of cute.

 

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So while he ate, I drank. And the White Horse Cosmo was so good I forgot to photograph it.

 

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Husband opted for the Chicken Pot Pie… and talk about presentation.

 

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Isn’t that just the best?

 

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I went for the Kobe beef burger with caramelized onions and blue cheese, which had a horse grilled into the bun. They’re nothing if not loyal to their brand.

Drink #3 was the Freedom Horse, because sure…

I can be loyal too.

And who could resist their desserts?

 

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Not me.

Banoffi Pie – toffee, banana cream filling, and whipped cream with a chocolate drizzle. Favored at Buckingham Palace, they say.

I agree with the Queen.  It was amazing…

 

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And came with prerequisite horse.

Trigger would be proud.

 

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Okay, okay. Technically Trigger wasn’t white.

But Buttermilk, Dale Evans’ horse, was.

And who cares?

They’re both dead, stuffed and won’t mind if I take a little artistic license.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Freight Yard pub…

 

After a full day with butterflies and bugs, we headed to a restaurant that came highly recommended by friends.

 

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But first, some random Berkshire scenery.

 

 

All of New England is famous for it’s churches….

 

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And Massachusetts is no exception.

 

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I particularly like the ones made of stone.

 

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There wasn’t much in the way of bright autumn color, but every now and then we caught a glimpse.

 

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A pie bar?

Now that something yours truly will belly up to any old day…..

 

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As evening was descending we drove through Williamstown….

 

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A lovely town, home to Williams college….

 

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And more of those impressive stone churches.

 

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We had a hard time finding this particular restaurant…

 

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As it really was in an old freight yard on the other side of the tracks. We stumbled around out back for a while, trying to find the entrance… when the owner took pity on us and hollered out the window, “Get in here you silly gits. It’s raining… or hadn’t you noticed?”

Ah… a snarky barkeep. I felt at home already.

 

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It was a friendly place, with lots of locals giving each other a pleasantly hard time.

 

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I can heartily recommend the cranberry margaritas. The first went down quickly, the second was tasty… and the third? The husband said I enjoyed it, so I’ll have to take his word for it.

 

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Of course, he had a few of these. So make of that what you will…

 

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The French Onion Soup burger sounded interesting but once again, my inner pasta demon was calling.

 

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Pan seared scallops and shrimp in a lemon and white wine sauce with spinach, tomatoes, garlic and parmesan cheese served over homemade fettuccine with garlic bread. Holy Hell, that was the richest thing I’ve ever eaten. Almost too rich… if there is such a thing.

 

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The husband opted for pan seared scallops that were then baked with a seafood stuffing in a garlic cream sauce, baked potato and seasonal veggies.

We poured ourselves out of there.

Literally and figuratively.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Powder Hounds.

 

 

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Well, no.

 

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But that’s the general idea.

Night 3 found us at a nice little restaurant right past the driveway of our resort.

 

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It was a rustically (is that not a word?) attractive, homey place…. nestled right at the foot of the Jiminy Peak Ski slopes.

 

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Full of warm wood and earth tones, and hounds on the walls.

 

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The drinks were nothing memorable, no specialty cocktail list and just your average margarita. (Okay, 3 average margaritas… geesh.)

 

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But the menu was comical…

 

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And the shrimp scampi flatbread appetizer to die for…..

 

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It was a quiet, relaxing spot to end the day.

 

 

Alright already….

You people are so pushy.

 

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Chicken marsala with whipped potatoes for me. I passed the nasty orange slop to the husband who loves squash….

 

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A strange looking chicken cacciatore  for him, but he didn’t complain so that’s a plus.

 

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I wanted him to order the sundae, because who can resist bacon sprinkles? But no.

He did however ask me for my phone after he went into the men’s room.

I didn’t really like where that was going….. but he only came back with this:

 

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A funny poster about brewing beer that was over the urinal.

Bless his little heart, he likes to share.