We planned ahead. Even on vacation I like to plan ahead. Nice to know that shrimp and Anson Mills grits are coming up on Friday, Sandy’s fish sandwiches on Sunday. I rest much easier in my beach chair knowing that dinner has been considered.
“Plan ahead”, Dean Kerr said, way back when, when we were in cooking school and, irony of ironies, out of cash for supper. There I stood with hand outstretched, in his office supplicating for a short term $10 loan. That nasty man sent me away empty pocketed, his tight bit of advice sour in my ears. Barbara and I ate saltines in our cinderblock dorm room, and have had Dean Kerr to quote for decades. Poor thing. You got to give to get, that’s how I see it.
This summer, on the Vineyard, older and wiser, we planned ahead.
Wednesday, Menemsha. Years past were angst ridden – car to pavement ratio much too high – and so we came prepared for combat parking, a stance in direct conflict to vacation mindbend. No lobster roll traffic jam this year. 2009, we maintained appropriate dumb oblivion – cruised in cool as cucumbers, parked without incident, strolled with ease to browse the menu.
There tis, top right. Lobsta rollllllll. The Galley serves ’em the archetypic northeastern way – lobster, only lobster, nothing but lobster, on a roll. Buttered roll. Toasted buttered roll for a bit of flourish.
Popcorn chicken? Sounds like something grown next door to the boneless chicken ranch.
Didnja hear me say they put the gal in galley?? A thousand dollar smile will make that tip cup bulge quicker-n you can can say “One small chocolate twist, please.” Very pretty porch with fresh fish aromatics and rope-creaking surround sound. We soaked up enough to hold us, then crossed the street to perch on the rocks in the late afternoon slanted sunlight.
Need I say more? Need I say anything? How can I say more when I have not said anything at all? How can I say anything at all when I am eating a lobster roll? And what a roll it was. A roll around the universe of seaside deliciousness. With a view. A 360 roll of beauteousness.
Frappes. One size only. Very, very large. Goes down fast and leaves a dent. A cold, deep, ice cream dent in your belly. Woo, a belly ache. You’d do it again, too. Anytime.
I could not turn them down on the frappe front. SS Frappe is right. Side Swiped my wallet and did some damage. Indulgent wreckage. We’ll be back.