While back home in Massachusetts for my father's 70th birthday – which
is so hard to believe – my husband, older sister Sue and I wanted to
take him out one night for a first-class, adult meal before the nieces
and nephews descended and the backyard grilling began. We tried to get him to choose a place he wanted to
go, but he wasn't in the mood to decide, so he left it up to us. He was
thrilled we were there – it's been a year since we were together – and
glad for a night out, but the occasion was something he would rather
have ignored. I can't say I blame him.
Since I haven't lived in the region for two decades I deferred to my sister, who's had her whole life to scope out the area. Having just come off a 5-day seafood bender while on Cape Cod – with no complaints mind you – we were in the mood for something a bit heartier. Plus, we had to please the parents, which is not always an easy task. Dad will eat just about anything. Mom is a bit more selective. Sue's choice of the Eastside Grill fit the bill perfectly.
Today's adventure begins as I leave Boston over the Tobin Bridge to Route 1 North to Middleton. I go by giant box stores and chain restaurants I've only read about. Although people drive fast in the city, outside the city they're worse. When you slow down to pull off, you're lucky they don't take you out although sometimes they do. People love shopping here, I can tell, and it's enchanting because parking is free and there's so much of it.
Amber Road Café's breakfast is worth getting up for. Lunch warrants standing on line. Dinner? Amber's not open for dinner. Bummer. We find ourselves here for lunch and the only reason there's no line and we're seated is because we're late. Not far too late and not a moment too soon.
Our boogie boards are home but we're amped at Piscataqua's harbor. After hours on red brick, the idea of dinner is is looking good so we tube into a high top in the bar. For openers, Jim's got a pomegranate martini. It looks like a Cosmospolitan but that comes with cranberry juice. Who knew all you have to do to a martini is add fruit to make it a health drink? One taste and I want one but I know better.
I hail from New Haven, although I've frankly never in my life hailed, even for a taxi cab. It's simply not my style. I visit the Elm City (although I'm not sure why it's nicknamed thus as all the elms died in a blight decades ago and are just coming back) a few times a year because my sister and I have bestowed our adorable mother on a fine new home, shared by three hundred other beloved parents, each compartmentalized in lovely little one and two bedroom lives with shared common rooms. All human needs are provided. It's like living on a space station.