I heard the rat is now drinking Bud Light and filing for unemployment while living in his mother’s basement. His podcast is scheduled to go live next Saturday.
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Because everything needs an update, even Jesus.
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I’m on the fence with this one. Please try it for me and report back.
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Is it a shoe? Is it a bag? What’s going on here….
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Cheese in individual plastic wrappers is not cheese. It’s orange dyed rubber and should be banned from kitchens everywhere. Do yourself a favor and make your grilled sandwich from a nice Gruyère or Vermont cheddar. Your taste buds will thank me.
Yes, it’s true. We took another mini trip and I’m about to flood you with more travel photos.
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This time we just jumped across the border and headed to the White Mountains of north western New Hampshire.
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It’s one of my favorite areas… filled with scenic beauty and wondrous natural places to explore.
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These photos are from the famous Kancamagus highway. A 30 odd mile stretch of road cut right through the mountains.
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In peak foliage season it’s divine and while we were two weeks late for that, there was still some residual color.
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Until you reached the top.
But back down the other side it brightened up again.
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The resort we chose this time around was literally right off this road at the end of the National Forest.
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And for us, you can’t get much better than that.
Since check in wasn’t until 4:00pm, we headed to Woodstock.
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A quaint New England village…
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With a big brewery/restaurant/inn.
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You knew that was coming, right? The autumn beer on the far right was my pick. A rich, creamy amber with notes of pumpkin and nutmeg. Perfect!
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And right above my head, teasing me with every glance? A vintage ale crate, damn it. The husband was determined to purchase it for me but the manager didn’t care how much beer we drank, the answer was always no.
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And though our lunches didn’t appear appetizing?
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They were both delicious. Baked haddock, garlic smashed red potatoes and squash for me. Charbroiled mushroom Swiss burger for the hubs.
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A good start to the vacation… except for this uber creepy spare parts facsimile of a doll hovering alongside the bar.
I have a shelf full of cookbooks I never use. Some are low calorie, some are comfort food, some are Italian, some are French. None of them however, are from Sing Sing.
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With all due respect to Goose, I think I’ll pass.
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Do I need to play Bingo with various shaped feces?
I do not. Nope. Not ever.
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If someone gave me this? I would probably do just the opposite and lob it at their head.
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Now where was this when I was young? Talk about missed opportunities. Damn.
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And finally, something for Mark, aka Swinged Cat, aka Madtown Migrant, aka Mark My Words…. who, for some unfathomable reason likes to eat this canned abomination. Throw them with abandon my friend. Personally, I’d rather eat the dice.
When the universe speaks, you have to listen. And the other day? It was screaming clams.
It started when the husband and I dropped by our local pub and had clam chowder for lunch. This was an oddity because they rarely make it.
The clam-athon continued when this story popped up in my news feed.
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I never even knew a purple pearl was possible.
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Good thing he didn’t trade them in on French onion soup. Offers have been made but the man is going to give the pearl to his daughter.
The third clammy thing that happened was a friend of ours showing up with a bucket. Her son had dug too many and she was willing to share. After a dinner of fried clams?
I heard about this:
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Yes, this time it’s real.
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Last year the crazy people behind Cards Against Humanity spoofed an old jar of Hellmans in a Black Friday ad campaign, but now? It really exists.
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You can’t say this company takes themselves too seriously.
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Or even the least bit seriously. Nope.
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I feel like I’m going to have buy a jar at some point, just because.
On a beautiful fall day in Maine, we drove up the coast to Stonington.
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A picturesque village… quaint and quite pretty.
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With the feeling you’ve stepped back in time.
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Stonington is a fishing town and known for being the largest lobster port in the state, if not the world.
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Last year they hauled in $43.26 million dollars worth of the glorious crustacean.
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And though I can’t eat it anymore… cue the random sobbing noises… I was still hungry after the two and a half trip.
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Enter the Harbor Cafe, one of only two restaurants in town.
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It sits right across the street from the harbor and at first glance seemed like a good choice.
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There were cocktails and my Pimms cup was delightful.
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The clam chowder was thinner than I like, but had a wonderful flavor as well as being loaded with clams.
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$23 seemed a bit steep for my crab roll but it was delicious, not the overly dressed crap that passes for crabmeat elsewhere. Husband was less than thrilled with his fried haddock as it was extremely thin and arrived in a plastic basket. Want to piss off my spouse? Charge him a high price and serve him a meal without a plate. The mashed potatoes that accompanied the fish were truly inedible. Real, but so over whipped as to be nearly liquid with an overpowering taste of margarine. Epic fail for what turned out to be a $102 bill with tip.
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But back to Stonington. Tourism has tried but thankfully failed to change the flavor of the town.
When we’re in the Jefferson New Hampshire area we always make a point of stopping at an excellent little family run restaurant called the Waterwheel.
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There’s an actual wheel that was turned by water back in the day and every meal we’ve ever had there was delicious.
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It’s a down home country place only open for breakfast and lunch, but since Covid they’ve had reduced hours and are closed a few days a week. Naturally every time we’ve stopped in the last two years they were shut up tight.
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So we were thrilled to find them open on our trip home and stopped for lunch. Though there were a lot of empty tables, they were short handed for staff and we had time to browse the gift shop before we were seated.
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I really should have bought some of these for gifts.
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Or at least a few of those. But our name was called and we quickly sat down to order, mouth watering at the memory of homemade chicken pot pies, fresh roasted hot turkey sandwiches and creamy chowders. And then I opened the menu.
Gone were all the previously delicious selections… and what was left wasn’t even worth considering . Hot dog, hamburger, grilled cheese. I was beyond disappointed and though we weren’t really in the mood, we ordered breakfast instead.
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Ugh. Biscuits and gravy that looked (and tasted) like Alpo with home fries that looked and tasted like cubed frozen french fries. Husband ordered poached eggs with Hollandaise and didn’t fare much better. Tiny eggs, tiny portion of Hollandaise.
They say you can’t go home again, and it’s a shame but I doubt we’ll going back here either.
This is an easy one for me. Calves liver with onions. My parents were fans, but I’ve been known to run screaming from the room at the mere sight of it. Basically any organ meat will elicit a similar reaction, but my mother cooked this on a regular basis so I had lots of practice avoiding it.
Liver tonight? Gee mom, I can’t. Softball practice.
Liver? Sorry mom, art club meeting.
Dessicated cow organs? I’d love to… but the circus is in town and they need a new elephant handler.
Any excuse would do. But she got wise after a while and decided to force me to eat it one night. Silly woman, thinking she could out stubborn 10 year old me.
She served dinner… I ate the potatoes and vegetables and left the liver untouched. She told me I would eat it. I told her I would not. She said I couldn’t get up from the table until it was gone. I said no problem and settled in for the night. If I wouldn’t eat it freshly cooked and hot did she really think I’d eat it cold and congealed?
The war of wills had begun, but after an hour and a half my father… ever the peacemaker…. let our notorious food stealing beagle in the back door and I ( accidentally, of course ) dropped my plate on the floor.
Bye bye liver.
My mother lost that battle and never tried to force me to eat it again. She did continue to serve it though.
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How about you? What meal haunted your childhood dinner table…
Heading back to the resort for the last time it looked like there was a hole in the sky…
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And before long we were approaching the Notch.
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These signs are on both entrance sides to the road and it took me a few minutes to figure out what they were talking about.
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TT’s won’t fit?
How odd.
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As we entered the Notch, rain. I swear the mountains make their own weather.
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Godzilla barfing?
No, just falling rocks.
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Not sure if you can tell from the photo, but the road is positively pink. Vermont has the oddest color tar in places. Perhaps it’s mixed with Ben and Jerry’s Strawberry Shortcake…?
Since our neighbor was caring for Lord Dudley Mountcatten… as well as feeding the fox and deer.. a thank you gift was required. This meant dragging my husband shopping and you know if it isn’t antiques he isn’t happy.
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A bottle of local Vermont wine…
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And some Vermont chocolates were perfect, but then I lost the husband in the store.
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You knew he’d find something vintage, right?
He actually collects these old gas station oil bottles and was thrilled to find a complete set with the holder. He was less than thrilled to find they were being used as decoration and not for sale.
He was so grumpy about that he wouldn’t let me go back and purchase this special maple syrup.
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Which in hindsight was probably a good thing…
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Because as soon as I saw they had various Dog liquor I wanted one of each.
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But at nearly $200 for the pair it’s a good thing they were under lock and key.
As we were randomly driving around Vermont we hit Montpelier, the capitol, and remembered there was a fabulous high end restaurant we’d enjoyed on previous trips.
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Welcome to J. Morgan’s Steakhouse.
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A fabulous place that’s actually part of a hotel. It has a very retro, 1920’s, prohibition era type feel….
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And we hit it at the perfect time since you can rarely get in without reservations.
Apple cider mule?
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Don’t mind if I do.
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It was 3:00pm… but since we hadn’t eaten since breakfast, we decided to be tacky (really) early birds and go straight to dinner. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. Which kind of sucked because this place can be pricey.
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A marvelous wedge salad with maple bacon and homemade blue cheese for me, the prerequisite French Onion soup for the spouse.
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The rack of lamb was tempting but I opted for the jumbo shrimp scampi instead.
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Good call. It was scrumptious, with just the right amount of garlic and wine.
And because we were in a steakhouse?
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The filet mignon with burgundy reduction for the husband.
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We basically had the whole place to ourselves, just a few customers scattered here and there. And those amazing lights?
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Made sure the rare filet my other half ordered was definitely that.
If you’re ever in Montpelier? Be sure to stop here. You won’t be disappointed.
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 