No weekend wrap up action this day. Frankly there was a bunch of banal stuff for most of it, so I will skip those details, for the sake of your sanity.
KVC had been talking about wanting to do water stuff and what not, in spite of her gimped and booted foot, some quick research and I decided we just mount up and head south...
To an oyster farm and restaurant.
I mean, shit, how do you beat that?
We blasted down the scenic 1A, by which I mean we poked along at the posted 40MPH-ish traffic crawl along the coast. Sort of. The 1A actually is pretty close to the shore, but most views of actual water are blocked, so it just seems like a drive through the country. Some really old New Englandy looking towns along the way break up the tour through the trees.
Enough about driving though, right?
We were talking about oysters.
So the Mantunuk Oyster Bar/Farm is down there past Narraganset.
(I am not going to tell you how to pronounce either one of those.)
I have had their bivalves before. Little briny gems, they are.
It is both a farm and restaurant. The oysters are bedded down about 300 yards from the dock adjoining the patio we lingered on for hours. They grow veggies down the road. Somebody's mom makes the deserts. Lithe local college students provide some pretty decent service.
We of course had oysters. Some from right there and a mix from other farms nearby. Standard raw oyster stuff accompanied, though it really seemed unnecessary given the delicate nature of the ice plate stars. A dozen went by way too fast and we considered doubling down on the raw stuff...
The second wave of our order showed before we could pull the trigger, though. KVC got some scallops, with risotto and simmered bok choy. I chose the lobster roll with fries, a sandwich which seems the current fetish of foodie websites. Both turned out to be above beachy, raw bar standards, with all the little details and flavor tweaks handled by an obviously skilled kitchen crew.
Really, when everything is so goddamned fresh there is not a lot of work that needs to be done to deliver great food, but clearly all of that work had been put into our plates.
Good fucking food, is what I am getting at here...
There is a decent wine selection, to boot.
Desserts made by someone's mother, also good. We had some cheesecake, which came in a little ramekin. Kind of standard, but just fine.
We lingered on that patio for a few hours, at least. I never once felt the pressure that would have revealed the que of dinner hour diners lined up for a meal, as we wrapped up some late afternoon lounging.
Sorry suckers. I like to eat slowly.
As we were just down the strand from some beach, we rambled there post nosh, for a chilly, breezey stare at the ocean. Waves, windmills, ferries lumbering off to some port I don't know...
I enjoyed it.
The whole deal.