Food, in truth, seems to be an obsession for almost everyone we met in Cape Ann, including Lance’s mother. Perhaps because there is such a dearth of it there. One particular restaurant on Summer Street boasted an enormous serving of macaroni and cheese for the reasonably-priced $5.00.
When it was served, it resembled a very large brick. And given the density, could have stood in for one especially in the cold weather when it would be frozen.
But how did it taste, you ask?
Like nothing. Nothing at all. I would like to be clever. Draw some artful and amusing analogy between it and various household inedibles but that would actually be unfair. Because it tasted like absolutely nothing. There was texture, the aforementioned dense one, uninterrupted by cheese since there was hardly any.
I couldn’t understand it. This place was always packed. And it wasn’t just because of the view since most of the patrons were clearly locals.
Hence my observation regarding the dearth of well-prepared, good-tasting restaurant food. I’m not discussing fine-dining. I just want good food. But even the local fine-dining space had turned over several times, at least once a year. It’s mystifying since Manchester makes Beverly Hills look like a pauper’s town.
This time, it had another complete “makeover” with the floorplans, lighting, and orange-ish paint. But the menu renders me inexplicable. People had finally discovered that the best burger on the block is made by Father’s Office in Santa Monica, with his aged beef, arugula, blue cheese and English-style relish, on a long roll. Well, that is, except for mine, which I have now perfected, a juicy, delicious spicy burger with just a few grilled onions and some aioli atop my homemade brioche buns. You should come over and try one. But I digress. This recipe first created by Father’s Office had finally traveled to the East Coast. And so I thought I’d give their version a taste. Remember what I said about burgers—theoretically, you can’t go wrong.
Wrong again!
First, more is not necessarily better. Wayyy to much meat, and far too dense. If you’re not going to age the beef (I don’t) try adding a little water to the mix, literally. It will make the burger nice and juicy and not to dense. And don’t overwork the meat.
Then the blue cheese. Wow, talk about overpowering. It’s the peppery arugula that balances the pungent sharpness of the blue cheese—romaine will literally wilt alongside that sort of cheese.
So, I did what I normally do, slathered it with condiments, thousand island being my choice this time since a mild mayonnaise was simply not going to do.
Well, after a while, you just have to give up. So you go for the fried side: the French fries. Except I hate those over-sized ones. Far too dry. What is good about a French fry is that there should be an ideal combination of crisp outside and soft inside. Too much of one or the other just ruins them. That’s why frites are so popular. Gets it just right.
And then there was this thing called “pulled pork.” Now, correct me if I am wrong but that is the sort of menu item that one expects at Jeb’s Barbecue Shack around the corner (not that they would have one of those anyway in Cape Ann). Why is that on a fine-dining restaurant’s menu, and at $25 a plate? When it’s a sandwich?
You’re thinking, yeah, but hey, that’s the point, take something ordinary and make it extraordinary.
You would be incorrect (I’m tired of using that other word). I know because while I was certainly not feeling so adventuresome, Lance was. If you are wondering how it was, I will offer another observation: that I did not have to worry about my French fries going to waste since his sandwich was accompanied with a salad (??!) and a few freshly fried potato chips.
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