Ribs at Sunset
Sometimes the ambiance can outshine the food, even when the food is excellent. For example, last Tuesday evening we had planned to eat takeout dinner on the beach and stick around until sunset. We love the beach that much, especially the beach at Chincoteague Island, and never want to leave. A few years ago we were happy to discover a new barbecue place had opened up on the road to the beach, called Woody’s Beach BBQ. They initially sold smoked pork and ribs, and you can’t miss the smoker that sits by the road, sending out its seductive wafts of barbecue throughout the day. Woody’s is an outside-only place, sand is on the ground even though it’s not actually on the beach, and there are tables for standing at to eat if you can’t wait to bring your food home. As you wait for your order you can play games like the bimini ring toss or tether ball. Sometimes there’s even a live band playing while you wait. Each year it seems they add something else to the menu or decor. Now they offer smoked or fried chicken, too, for takeout chicken dinners. As the ambiance has continued to develop, it feels like you’re in the Bahamas when you hang out there waiting for your order
But, as I mentioned, we had planned to bring our ribs to the beach to enjoy for dinner. But the beach was too chilly that night and none of us would have been comfortable eating there, huddled against the wind. So we brought the ribs back to our place and ate outside on our balcony instead. And rather than listening to the crash of the surf during dinner, which would have been wonderful, we watched the sunset instead. And as delicious as the ribs were as they fell off the bone, they were upstaged by the view that evening.
Do You Complain in Restaurants?
Call me a wimp, or a pushover, or a chicken, but I rarely complain when I’m served an imperfect dish in a restaurant. Maybe this is because I read Anthony Bourdain’s book “No Reservations” and remember how nasty things can get in the kitchen. More likely it’s because of my dislike of confrontation.
We went to a Greek restaurant over the weekend to celebrate Louisa’s performance in “Schoolhouse Rock” – we’re always looking for reasons to celebrate something. We’ve been to this restaurant before and have always enjoyed our meals here. This time I ordered a special, a pork loin that’s been marinated in lemon and Greek spices. It was to be served over a bed of garlicky spinach with roasted potatoes on the side. When I placed my order, I asked the very friendly waitress if I could substitute the saffron rice pilaf for the potatoes. She assured me that wouldn’t be a problem.
When my order arrived I quickly dug into the pork, which was some of the most flavorful, tender pork loin I’ve enjoyed in a long time. It was a truly well-marinated, slow cooked piece of swine. It took me a few minutes, enough time for our waitress to have disappeared, to realize the potatoes hadn’t been replaced. No biggie I thought. As I continued to enjoy the pork, I suddenly remembered there should have been spinach underneath all of that luscious meat.
I said nothing. I didn’t want the confrontation and I didn’t want my meat to grow cold.
What would you have done? Do you complain if a restaurant makes a minor mistake? Or are you a wimp like me?
Peppers and Eggs
We stopped at a farmer’s market on the way home from the beach on Sunday. The produce was so colorful and aromatic and well-priced that Joe and I went a little crazy buying it all up. I think the best part of our purchases were the bell peppers. They were so very pepper-y and seductive that Joe turned to me and suggested we make peppers and eggs for dinner. What? No Sunday pasta? I was a little surprised that my traditional husband would break the “rules” of Italian households, but this may very well have been the next best thing to eating pasta on Sunday.
Peppers and eggs scream Italian soul food to me. Served on fresh Italian bread (luckily the farm stand sold great bread), it’s the embodiment of comfort food to me. As I was growing up, eggs and all sorts of additions were regular lunch items in our house. Tomatoes and eggs, pepperoni and eggs, mozzarella and eggs and, most often, peppers and eggs. It was also the perfect conclusion to a day at the beach because peppers and eggs were a regular item in our beach picnic basket.
As expected, when I served this dinner, the girls both groaned. Similarly, they both finished their sandwiches. As Annie said, “the bread is good, so it makes the rest okay.” And just like that, I don’t ever need to worry about making peppers and eggs again.
P.S. The red chard didn’t go over as well.