Getting my husband to a movie theater is a rarity these days. While I’d be happy to see a weekly film on the big screen my other half complains about the concession prices, the endless pre show commercials and God forbid he doesn’t get to sit in the back row. But last night I convinced him.
.
.
And we saw what might turn out to be the largest grossing movie of all time. I’m not a huge Tom Cruise fan, but if you liked Top Gun you’ll love the sequel. The fighter jet aerial sequences are stunning and the movie does a nice job paying homage to the original. Val Kilmer makes a poignant appearance and the story line of Goose’s resentful son is well played. Granted the new beach football isn’t as good as the volleyball scene from decades past… but not much is. Overall Maverick brings it and even my theater cranky spouse was glad he went.
.
.
Sadly we couldn’t say the same for J. R. Maxwells, the restaurant in Bath where we had dinner afterwards.
.
.
I admit their cocktails were potent AF, one Cosmo and one margarita about did me in.
A loaf of homemade bread was a nice way to start.
.
.
But it went downhill from there.
.
.
My minuscule cup of clam chowder contained roughly 4 spoonfuls and my husband’s French Onion soup was weak and flavorless.
.
.
The salad I didn’t photograph had some decent blue cheese dressing but the pan seared scallop carbonara that sounded wonderful turned out to be an anemic platter of bland goop. I often wonder if we’re too critical when it comes to eating out. We’ve added this place to our won’t ever return list… and that list is getting longer by the day.
.
Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.