The husband and I went out for a booze filled leisurely lunch the other day at a place I’ve been wanting to try for a while. It’s the sister restaurant to one of our favorites so I had high expectations.
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Right across the street from LL Beans in the busy village of Freeport…the Tuscan Brick Oven Bistro is always packed with a long wait to be seated. We thought showing up at 2:00 in the afternoon would afford us some elbow room, but no. There was a 45 minute wait for a table which made my husband take a direct route to the bar.
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My husband does not wait well. Or at all to be honest.
No matter, I started with a lovely cranberry sage margarita which though tasty, was served in a disappointingly small old fashioned glass.
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And if I ever wondered why I was having a hard time finding vintage beer, wine or whisky crates… one look behind this bar provided the answer.
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A spiced pear margarita was round two…. and was served alongside my crab “cake” appetizer. I ask you – how can a tiny round lump of crab ever be considered a cake? These balls were delicious, but at $23 were a bit of a pricey nibble.
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Lunch was a wonderful 4 mushroom funghi pizza for me and a shrimp scampi for the husband. His lunch portion contained 4 shrimp for $29. I’d hate to see the dinner.
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For me the best part was cocktail #3.
APPLE OF MY EYE apple infused captain morgan white rum lime juice * cinnamon simple * white cranberry juice
Ooh la la! It might sound like a weird combination but it was alcoholic apple pie in a glass. Be still my heart!
For the husband this was the kicker –
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I don’t care for cheesecake, but it did sound divine.
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He said it was literally the best cheesecake he’s ever had… and that’s saying something because he loves the stuff.
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With tip, a $218 lunch.
Christ. That’s what I used to pay for two weeks worth of groceries when we got married. How times change..
Here’s the last batch of old family photos I’ll share.
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From right to left – my uncle, my aunt and presumably my father… theintrepid butterfly hunter.
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My great aunt and an unidentified child, perhaps my aunt. From the look of their clothes, I’m guessing they were not ardent PETA supporters.
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These next few shots are of the Henley Regatta.
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Part of the English social season, the annual rowing competition originated in 1839 and takes place on the River Thames.
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It also looks like a good excuse to buy a new hat.
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My uncle and aunt. Because no well dressed toddler should be without a parasol.
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My grandmother, still not smiling… with my aunt and uncle in their garden. Sadly, my uncle was another relative I never met. He was killed in a car accident on Christmas Day at the age of 30.
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My grandfather in the garden.
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And finally, another garden party shot of Wednesday Addams with my father and uncle.
We had a small amount of the white stuff last night and crazy as it sounds, it was the first to actually stick on the ground this winter.
In celebration of that I thought I would share a few glimpses out our windows this morning…. because sunrise over snow is pretty damned spectacular.
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After I posted a few of these to Facebook, I saw our farming neighbor had posted some as well. Here’s his shot, with our house and barn in the background.
I’m still sorting through the cornucopia of old family photos my husband unearthed in the basement … like this one of my grandfather (middle) who seems a tad overdressed for fishing.
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And this one… where he’s enjoying a backyard garden party with Wednesday Addams.
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It’s frustrating because very few of the photos are labeled or identify the subjects. So when I came across this picture I was thrilled.
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My grandfather was a well off Englishman who traveled the world and it doesn’t surprise me in the least that he was sailing on the Lusitania. Eager to discover who his companions were, I researched the man on the left and came up empty. But the gentleman on the right?
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Evander Berry Wall (January 14, 1861 – May 4, 1940[2]) was a New York Citysocialite and later an American expatriate in France during the Belle Époqueand beyond. He was famous for his extravagantly refined look and was crowned “King of the Dudes” in the 1880s.
The King of Dudes?
How bloody marvelous.
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My father and his father before him were both snappy dressers known for their sartorial splendor so I’m sure Berry felt right at home.
Since I hadn’t heavily decorated the inside of our house for the holidays in a few years… I’d forgotten what a time sucking nightmare it was to put everything away.
Three days after I started…
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With help from Lord Dudley Mountcatten…. I was done.
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And after buying a fresh cut ( I use that term loosely) tree from a roadside stand instead of cutting our own as we usually do, I’m seriously cursing needle drop again.
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While I do love a real Christmas tree…
( Note the lack of snow and abundance of green grass in our yard. In Maine. In January! 😠 )
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I do not love clogging up my vacuum with 20lbs of dry needle droppings. Though I have to admit, it does smell wonderful.
I often wonder how Lord Dudley Mountcatten manages to looks pudgy when the silly cat actually eats very little. Maybe half a Fancy Feast tin in the morning and another half at night… on a good day. Sometimes he just turns his nose up and walks away.
He won’t eat fish, or treats, or any human food. He won’t eat anything sliced, diced or shredded. The husband laughs at my attempts to stimulate his Royal highness’s appetite… and it’s not uncommon to see me following the little bugger around the house at mealtime with a bowl of food and a spoon. ( the cat, not the husband )
So when Lord Dudley recently expressed an interest in being fed on the laundry room windowsill?
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His loyal minion obeyed and fed him on the laundry room windowsill.
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Dinner with a view, you can’t blame him. And I’d already covered the dryer with a soft towel for his comfort… so why not?
I’m sure I’m not the only who’ll be complaining today as it seems the entire United States was slammed by what they called a bomb cyclone event yesterday.
The wind? Insane. It gusted almost 70mph at our house.
The rain? A deluge that flooded roads, businesses, and homes.
Our nightmare started yesterday at 8:00am just as I was about to step into the shower. Bam! No power. Which meant no shower, sandwiches for lunch and dinner and an epic 13 hour gin rummy tournament by flashlight. Temperatures during the day were mild with a high of 52 degrees, but by nightfall it was frigid.
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Thankfully we have a fireplace…. and while it won’t heat the whole house, it did manage to keep the living room at 58 degrees when the outside temperature dropped to 7. Of course my husband the Marine runs the operation.
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Which means throwing giant logs on the top to get it truly blazing.
This does not always end well.
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Because sometimes the logs revolt and pop back out. Giant cloud of smoke, sparks that burned the carpet? You betcha!
But as we sat in the dark enjoying the smell of smoke and scorched Berber, the fun was just beginning. Yes, just as we were about to call it a day and go to bed… shingles started lifting and literally flying off the roof. We watched them sail into the backyard, the neighbor’s driveway and the road. Good times!
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Or not as it turns out.
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Five new leaks as of this morning.
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Did I mention Lord Dudley Mountcatten is utterly terrified of the fire? Positively and absolutely. He fled to the furthest reaches of our bedroom and cried nonstop. Which meant instead of sleeping on the relative warmth of the living room couch, I had to snuggle his highness in the frigid bedroom all night and got no sleep whatsoever because to top it all off? Our neighbor’s wood stove caught fire at midnight.
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Thankfully no one was hurt.
It’s 1:00pm now and we’ve been without power for 29 hours. I haven’t slept nor showered and just discovered it’s not easy to make tea and toast in a fireplace. I have to say …. I’m more than ready to fill the house with electric current. This pioneer woman thing is getting old.
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Here are a few pics I grabbed from friends.
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Our little downtown park.
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Not sure if you can tell, but the water is right under the bridge.
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Yikes!
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You’re looking at a pier and a parking lot. Or rather, you should be.
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We may be cold, dirty and hungry… but I’m still glad we don’t live there.
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 