Tag Archives: mussels

When too much of a good thing really is too much.


We had dinner plans with friends the night of my husband’s birthday, but on the way home from the antique barn we stopped at King Eider’s Pub in the coastal town of Damariscotta.



It’s a quirky old place famous for their crab cakes and liberal pours.



One Winter Paloma in, I agreed whole heartedly. It may have been pink, but it tasted like straight tequila. Our plan was just to duck in for a quick appetizer that would hold us till dinner. And then my husband ordered the mussels.



Cooked in white wine, butter and garlic… the picture isn’t a good representation of quantity. The husband ate. And ate. And ate. And didn’t seem to put a dent in the bowl.



On his second bowl of empty shells he decided to count exactly how many mussels he received for $16.99. Care to hazard a guess?

30? 40?

How about 72. We were both dumb founded. Granted, this time of year they’re small. But when’s the last time you had that much seafood for under $20.



It made my delicious but small and similarly priced crab cakes seem positively non existent.

And in answer to your question, yes. The husband ate every single last mussel in the bowl… though it took him nearly an hour. It was at this point the man next to us at the bar struck up a conversation and bought us a round… that to be honest, we didn’t want but also didn’t refuse. While chatting he told us his favorite movie, The Shawshank Redemption, was filmed right down the road from his home. And considering it was actually filmed in Mansfield, Ohio I’d say he either had one very large lawn or an overactive imagination. Bar stories, ya gotta love ‘em.

We floated out of the pub stuffed with seafood, feeling no pain and saw this sign on the way to the parking lot.



Amen to that.


Random pics.



You know your cat is spoiled when he gets lifted up to the window to watch the birds.



Pint of beer my husband recently received at our local pub. I detest IPA’s, but beer is my juice of choice.



Results of a horrible multi unit fire that displaced 10 people in our town. This is what the old farm used to look like in the 1800’s.



By the following day a gofundme campaign had raised $14,000. For a town with a population of just over 700, I’d say we’re pretty generous folk.



A mussel appetizer the husband ordered this week. I stopped counting at 38. Definitely get your money’s worth there.



It’s true. He told me….




This is what happens when temperatures rise too quickly in what should be winter in Maine. All our lovely snow melts, freezes and melts again. We have a skating rink driveway and mini floods everywhere because the ground is still too cold to absorb the water.

This…. is a mess.


Cape Cod Day 4, Black Dog Tavern, Vineyard Haven.


map 15



If you live in New England, I can guarantee you’ve seen numerous bumper stickers, t shirts and assorted swag with the ubiquitous black dog silhouette.



But on day 4 of our fabulous Cape Cod adventure, we had lunch at the real thing.




The original Black Dog Tavern on Martha’s Vineyard.

For a sweetly illustrated history, click here.




It’s a rustic little place…




With some fabulous views.




Filled with maritime history as well as the flavor of the sea….

And on the day we had lunch there?

Even an adorable real life black dog on the beach.





(No worries… it was a cool day, he had water and his owners checked on him regularly.)





Don’t mind if I do….




Since we were at the Black Dog, I tried a Black Dog Orange Crush.




Which might have to become my new favorite way to wake up the day.




Happily sipping, we enjoyed watching the ferry.




The boats..




The harbor…




And local craft beer disappear.

But yes, the food. We came for food…




Quahog chowder. Thick, creamy and delicious with homemade croutons made for a nice start.

What’s a quahog you ask?

It’s a large hard shelled clam.




Isn’t that just typical human behavior?

Name your pet, then kill him to find out how old he is.

Sorry Ming, you deserved better. And I sincerely hope you weren’t in our soup.




I was in the mood for a good chargrilled burger and this one didn’t disappoint.




The husband? He inhaled two dozen mussels.

Replete, we said goodbye to the real black dog….




The views…




The pier….




And the original Black Dog Tavern.




Fervently wishing they would come to Maine and build one on our coast!


Never trust a Corpse Reviver.


(Bet that got your attention.)

So it started out simply. Dinner with friends at a trendy, boho chic restaurant in a converted mill.

They’re famous for their infused liquors, so we ladies started out with these:




They were small.

And pink!




And with names like Garden of Eden and Frankly My Dear…

How bad could they be?

Bad enough that after 2 of them, our husbands were telling us to lower the decibel level.

After 3, they were waiving down the waiter and telling him to rush our food order.

The men had chosen curried mussel appetizers, which didn’t appeal to us in the least.




Mussels, blech!

Those slimy little nuggets that get halfway down your throat and say, ” I think I’ll just sit here a while and let her contemplate what she swallowed.”

No way. Not this chicka…

The guys were happily cracking them open and getting covered in green slop in the process.




It was disgusting.

It looked like pea soup, or vomit. (Same thing in my opinion.)

But then my girlfriend and I ordered Corpse Revivers.




They’re traditionally known as the hangover cure, so we figured we’d skip a step and get right to it.  Gin, Cointreau, Lillet Blanc, lemon juice and Absinthe.

I blame the Absinthe.

Have you ever had Absinthe? Whew!

In no time at all? Those mussels looked GOOD.

We were digging in with gusto.




Slop covered shells were flying, we were dragging the bowls away from our husbands. We had to order extra Naan to soak it up.

I believe we may have fought over the last piece.

It wasn’t pretty.

Never trust a Corpse Reviver.