Comb Short

Ugh, can only apologize for these stupid names. I'm just trying to not put too much effort in and just make them rhyme, but I end up with some lame shit. So feel free to offer advice (I'm talkin' to all ya'll devotees reading this and clamoring to offer suggestions).

So we took the 'rents to a fabled restaurant in the little fishing village on the western end of the island. I hadn't been there in at least a decade and couldn't remember any encounters there except it was expensive. Recently they stuck dead fish all over the walls and lacquered the entire room, so the whole thing glossy and shining, with chestnut-colored picnic tables stretching in all directions, kind of like a upscale camp cafeteria.

Does that make it sound like I didn't like it? Cuz I did. I'm just glad I didn't dress up, even though I knew there were $45+ entrees on the menu. With squeeze ketchup bottles on the tables, to boot.

Our server was young and perky, until I realized every worker in there was young and perky. Then I realized that at some point, I got kind of old. Sigh. But that's ok as long as fried appetizers remain a part of my life to some degree. Leading me to sing the praises of this calamari:

Heh nah that's just the kraken.

But for reals, this was tasty!

Even though I prefer pictures more appealing than this one, this was so lip-smackin' I simply had to take a photo of it. Crispity crunchety fried calamari and peperoncini with aioli.........perfect temp, perfect texture, perfect flavor, perfect experiment in arterial plaque.

I love you, Wikipedia.

This is a steamer:

This is a naked steamer:

Thankfully, I'm allergic.

I usually never order lobster from a restaurant, because they're always better when you do them yourself, and half the price. But this is the place to get lobster, or so they say.

So I got a baked stuffed. Even though I once saw how they were prepared when I worked at my first server job at the Barber Jew.... It's frightening and torturous and it makes you pledge to never eat a baked stuffed lobster... until you have one with drawn butter and it makes you come in your pants.

The folks running the 'Short are smart, and do the same plain veg for everyon. Nothing fancy, but cooked correctly it's perfectly tasty and consistent.

Course, I don't start with the veg like I should. I start with the drawn butter. Then there's a lovely stalk of broc left but I don't eat it. Because I'm full of butter.

We managed dessert. Brownie a la mode and Key lime pie, which rarely fails to satisfy. Again, nothing fancy, but perfectly tasty.

Velour

A basic lesson in bread and butter, according to me (if you've got something you feel the need to say about bread and butter, start your own blog):

1. The appearance of bread is most appreciated shortly after food has been ordered and menus taken away.

2. Unless bread is homemade the day of, bread should arrive at the table warm, whether they be rosemary rolls, breadsticks, corn muffins, french bread, focaccia or what have you.

3. Butter should be above the freezing point. Which is the main problem with the photo above, taken at 'Velour'. That was a lukewarm corn muffin with a shard of butter chipped off a little plate with an ice pick. I ripped my muffin to shreds trying to spread my butter shard. Lame.

And finally...

4. Don't serve raisin bread with hummus. For the love of Jebus, just don't. Your customers might eat it if they're hungry, but it will make them feel sad.

Nursing a grey goose dirty martini, I started with lobster and crispy leek spring rolls. They were ok. One saucy was soy-y, one was sweet and soury. They were crispy and warm enough. Nothing stood out in particular but I had no real complaints.

Now this Caesar salad, on the other hand, had a major, nearly unforgivable flaw. Can you guess?

Stale, MUTHA FATHER croutons! Can you imagine my horror? Don't even try. Make me barf, stale croutons. An ugly and awful crime against any salad.

My entree was excellent. Homemade pappardelle (in Italian, “to gobble up," or so says the internet. Which never lies), with had some sort of herb that colored the pasta a speckled green. With fat pink shrimp, cherry tomatoes, artichoke hearts and seared sea scallops. It was pretty oily but really quite wonderful. I'd say the homemade-ness of the pasta is what did it. There was enough for leftovers, which were equally as delicious the next day.

Then there was dessert, which never had a chance of seeing another day.

Not a great picture, but they were hot cinnamon donut bites with a whipped cream-topped mocha ...mousse? It wasn't as light as a mousse, and to be honest it looked like a teacup filled with room temperature bacon fat, sort of tannish-brown and flecked with dark goopy spots. But omg...the warm, soft, sweet, moist donut bites melting on your tongue and then chased by a little spoonful of creamy espresso and chocolate sweet squishiness...heavenly!

Piquante

I ate this meal about a month ago, and still when I see that broken Gruyere ball, oozing out all it's goopy salty fried goodness, I get all tender and runny inside.



That salad was marred only by a large slice of lemon, rind and all, that had been placed surreptitiously under a pile of greens and which I placed in its entirely into my mouth. I don't know about you, but I don't find chewing on lemon rind and pith to be an enjoyable experience. In fact, I felt a little annoyed that they'd placed in there so sneakily, as that particular bite was a real buzz kill. I had been busy savoring the bitter greens and the crispy ball of fried cheese, which was large enough for me to parcel out piece by piece, so that there was one cheese bite for each salad bite, just the way I like it. Then I spent 5 minutes hating lemons with my mouth watering to get the bitterness out. Yeah, I know, "wah." Just sayin'.

Here's the salad before I popped that yummy little cheese cherry. Heh.



My entree was braised shortribs (again with the lemon, jeez... a little goes a long ways guys) and softshell crab.


The veg was baby bok choi and early radish, some hybrid sprouted from our server's boyfriend's Aquinnah garden. My but those figs look nice, hmm?

The shortribs were the most delicious thing about this dinner, once I'd scraped away half of that lemon rind. Otherwordly tender, the way only shortribs can be, marbled with layers of fatty marvelousness. Marble-ousness, if you will.

My main complaint besides that god forsaken lemon was the barely suppressed snobbishness when I asked for a cocktail menu. My companion argued for the restaurant's side (yeah, thanks), saying if they want to be strictly a "wine place" they don't have to reach out to the cocktail drinkers of the world.

My argument that they already had a full bar, why not have a small list of specialty cocktails, which makes it easy and fun to choose a drink they might not otherwise be able to come up with. By not only not having such an offering, but treating even the question with veiled contempt shows to me a lack of the kind of customer-centered philosophy that would exist in the dream restaurant I'm running in my head where everyone loves to go because it is perfect. Snarf.

But seriously. I was ready to spend money on a $12 cocktail, but I wasn't about to come up with it myself. So I drank water instead. How does that work out for you, wine snob restauranteurs?

Wham Bam Thank You Clam

I am, sadly, allergic to clams, but this is the big seafood vendor in the area and they're the place to go for fish, mollusks etc... let's call them Wham Bam Thank You Clam. They recently received a shipment of softshell crab, and were selling sandwiches cheap. It was tasty, hot, crunchy, salty, definitely 'oceany', although part of me has trouble with the idea of eating an entire crab, swimming fins, protective coverings, juicy organs and all, especially knowing they were in such a vulnerable state when they were harvested... still, add some tartar, lettuce, tomato and soft bun, and they make quite the dramatic lunch item.

Shmoop de Ville

A summer standby, mostly because we know the bartenders and they let us bring our little poodle in. I love a pet friendly eating establishment! This is what we always have there, although they aren't always good... the buffalo wings. On this occasion though, they were good: big, drippy, hot, spicy but not too spicy, just the way I like 'em.

What a good espresso martini looks like...

In case anyone was wondering... this is a Frescas espresso martini, practically black with a nice sweet foamy head. The way they are meant to be. Sigh...

Malarkys

Malarkys is the best. It serves food when everyone else is closed. The food is generally consistent, tasty, and reasonably priced. That means a lot. So, I'm a fan.
Here's a photo of their coconut shrimp, which is served with a sweet/spicy/fruity sauce. I like 'em.



That is one pathetic espresso martini, however. Sorry.