The Red Lion Inn--Massachusetts

413-298-5545

I've been meaning to write about the Berkshires for quite some time.  I've been going up there long enough to post on multiple places, some of which are still open (John Andrews) and some that have turned over so many times they've now closed (The Union Grill).

Doesn't matter.  This is not a recap post, but a hotel post.  I'm in quite a quandary here as there were several places I could review as we ate there almost every night.  So I must pull out an old trick a la the Spotted Pig post.  This time though, it will be current self versus older self.   (knuckle crack) Here goes:

Current Self:  What the fuck, $180 for two of us for this crappy food?  Am I at the same place where they filmed Dirty Dancing?  Tomorrow night I'm eating in the motherfucking Grill room.
Older Self:  Oh fuck, they have a wedding tomorrow night, I'm gonna have to eat in the grill room.

Current Self: This place is sooooo fucking quiet, and we're the only young people staying here, and our daughter is the only kid under the age of 20.
Older Self: This place is sooooo fucking quiet, there aren't any young people staying here, and no fucking kids.  Just me, my old wife, and my yappy little lap dog.

Current Self:  This place is so quaint.  It's got antique furniture and quilts, and we're gonna go antiquing so we can find the perfect butcher block!
Older Self:  There are four different places to sit around and get drunk, each of them hopping at a different time of day.  I don't ever have to leave!

Current Self:  The patio is actually kind of nice.  The food is average, as long as you suck down burgers in the restaurant, its enough sustenance for the booze.
Older Self:  I've been drinking booze on this patio for the last twenty five years...

Or something like that.  Truth be told, the Red Lion Inn is worth checking out if you have 1k to spend for the weekend and want to get out of the city.  There is absolutely nothing to do but go spend money on crap you don't need, so be prepared to be sequestered to overpriced food in the main dining room, and pub grub in the old timey grill, but in odd non-impressive way, it was totally worth it.

Ricalton's--South Orange NJ

973-763-1006

What the hell is going on here?  Having deduced that Arturo's is the only place in town, we decided to try another town:  South Orange.  Owned by an ex-teacher turned self-serving explorer, it's a shame in all of this travels he didn't visit more fine dining establishments.  For the price, I'd rather schlep back into the city.

For starters the sun-burned college drop out fucked up my martini, shaking it right in front of me when I asked for it stirred.  I hate bruised ice.  I rarely drink martinis but I needed something to blur the lines of what is my new culinary reality.  This was also, to note, my first martini in front of the ol' family, and the look I got from Nagzilla for even ordering it in the first place demanded that it better be good.  For this kid to deliver it, in a shaker whilst shaking, was the first indication that I was in for a delight. It's been a while since I've harped on bad service.  But this walking Cheeto definitely struck a nerve.

Fuck you Iconman, how was the food?  The food was a combination of shared ingredients and lack of imagination.  It was well prepared but ill fitting, like a prom dress sized before you fell in love with donuts.  Yes, I must say, the bar is much lower in the burbs, and we are having difficulty adjusting. I had the airplane chicken (which I was under the impression was not a specific cut of meat, but rather a purchasers vernacular) with cous cous and artichokes.  It also, for some odd reason, decided to incorporate edemame.  There was the cod special with Avocado and Red Peppers.   Just bizarro combinations delivered by a nincompoops.

Dear God, what have I become?  Long gone are the days of Reynards and Glasserie and black outs where I yelled at Andrew Marlowe for no good reason.  SOS