The Cranwell--Massachusetts

413-217-0166

Back to the Berkshires beloved nine, it's turning into an annual trip I suppose. The rigors of a career that allows a family vacation in two days leaves us little choice.  We went from one old hotel (Red Lion) to another in the Cranwell for a long weekend hoping for some golf, until the weather and a golf outing put an end to that.  So fuck it, another trip to the Prairie Whale and a much more expensive dinner at the Cranwell.

So Iconman, how was the food?  Over priced.  It was uncomfortable watching the staff.  They were doing their best to make it nice, and the picturesque setting in the rolling hills of the Berkshire mountains certainly helped, but they was nothing professional about the staff nor service.  It was as though they were hired to fill a role without any training, so they did their best to improvise what they think a nice resort should do.  Sadly, these clubs are a dying breed, with baby boomers doing their best to emulate their parents when this is what people did.  And to play along, the staff was doing their best to replicate the splendor of a huge club without the support of thousands upon thousands of loaded customers.

What to do?  Well, hire cheap staff.  Corporatize your golf operation.  Add a spa.  Invest millions into dumbing down the operation to be a mere shell of what it was in its splendor.  Damn it Iconman!?! How was the food?

Okay.  I got lamb chops and they were tiny, but still priced expensively. The ol' wifey wife got some fish or another, and our friends got a bunch of other slop that was what you get when an untrained chef watches too many cooking shows.  To be perfectly honest, it wasn't that bad.  I mean, we're willingly chose to stay at a castle, so who's the real asshole in this equation?  And considering that I have yet to actually play the golf course, there's a fair chance that we may return.  So I guess the food was good enough if you drink a dry martini and make believe it was decades ago.  Maybe there will be some renaissance down the road, and these places will come back into favor.  In the meantime, manage your expectations and you'll be okay.

Chatham--Massachusetts

Yikes

Went here for a wedding the other weekend.  I really don't get it.  It's such a bizarre culture steeped in one big homogenous dichotomy.  On one hand, you've got a crazily sublime and conservative culture, Vineyard Vines, boat shoes, old-world money entrenched in traditions that are as stodgy and predictable as the little whales on their shorts.  On the other, you've got latent alcoholism, debauchery, and conspicuous consumption born of wealth so deep that it lasts for generations.  So Iconman, thanks for the sociological breakdown, but what the fuck does any of this have to do with restaurants?  I'll get to that.


Wild Goose Tavern (508) 945 5590
So we didn't have a tremendous amount of options.  We went here for an early dinner with the ol' family and were assaulted with the full prep upon entering this place.  We were sat relatively quickly, and though the place was bustling we thought we were a-okay.  Enter said entitlement.  The staff were all young college-aged rich kids, forced to work to learn ethic and "earn their keep" even though they most likely live in multiple million dollar beach homes. Our waitress in particular was a bubbly little plain-jane. And she completely fucked up our order.  Not even close.  Wrong salad, wrong wines, delivered at the wrong time.  No milk for the kid, despite repeated requests.  I mean, we were better to go into the kitchen and place the order ourselves.  Here's the worst part, considering my proclivity to be an asshole, I couldn't help but flag down the khaki pants manager and express our discontent.  And when the little waitress came back, she was a total bitch!  As though her fucking up our dinner were somehow our fault.  5% tip here we come.  Food?  Meh.

Chatham Bars Inn (508) 945-0096
The following night was the night of the wedding, so I can't comment in full detail about the food.  The food was okay.  They had free-flowing Moet Chandon, so I'm probably not the best judge.  Weddings are all the same, they cover the basics, and there's a gimmick or two to make things special.  The gimmick in particular was a Dunkin' Donuts station.  Not a bad execution I suppose, though, who fucks up pre-made donuts?

The more important part of this tale is when those of us still drinking sauntered up to the hotel bar.  They had music playing, and though through a small PA we made a collective request to change it to something more contemporary.  They gave zero fucks.  We asked for a manager and when the smug grease-ball that eventually came out took fucks from us (that's negative fucks people!).  We sat there bemoaning the shoddy service, the contemptible disservice, how they have ruined this wedding to a less than sympathetic sixty-year-old bartender and one manager half his age.  I suppose his nature was honed in the fires of dealing with drunk preppy douche-bags, as his defense was impenetrable.  I mean if you worked 30+ years at a summer resort, I'd suppose you would also develop an indifference.  We got absolutely nowhere. A cool old bar nonetheless, perhaps a touch overpriced. Just bring your own tunes, or perhaps more importantly, be prepared to listen to theirs.

Del Mar Bistro (508) 945-9988
The last place for dinner was clearly where the locals go.  Food, service, up to snuff.  If you're ever in this neck of the woods this is a safe bet.  It was packed and had a cool converted garage type vibe.  I had the fish my wife had the fish and my daughter had the pasta.  It was good.  Lot's of hot local trim bustling around in yoga pants.  Those are my notes.  That's a direct quote: Hot trim, yoga pants.

Kang Suh--Manhattan

212-564-6845

This place has a sick view. I could probably stop there if I wanted to.  I mean, it’s got a whole bunch of other shit going on, but for an unheard of view, there’s maybe six or seven places in the city that offer this.  Off the top of my head:  Mandarin oriental, the Standard Bar, Rainbow Room, there I’m stumped.  I’m sure there’s more beloved nine—go to google if you feel so inclined.

Went here with the other wife and some old co-workers for our semi-annual recap that comes with being old.  It was a prime spot for me as it is ridiculously close to Penn Station.  Had a few glasses of wine, some Korean barbecue, caught up…  The food is interesting, very Korean, and though expensive it is worth that mother fucking view.

The hi-light of the night came, oddly, with the wine. They have quite a substantial wine list, but don’t expect people coming here to be drunks.  We drank them out of one particular varietal and they botched it like a bunch of amateurs.  Allow me the bigoted aside—I’ve always found that Asians are absolute horrible liars.  And this experience supports my opinion.  First they told us they had none cold.  We said well we would wait.  Then they came back heads hung in shame and said they were lying and they had no more.  Then they comped us the next two bottles of wine!  I must say there was a fair amount of drunken shaming involved, thinly disguised as displeasure…something to the effect:  “You ruined our dinner!  How could you do this.  We haven't seen each other in years, and we researched your restaurant to find this specific bottle, a wine of our ancestors, so that we could all come and drink to the death of our parents.”  (Obviously, I am still quite capable of being an asshole.)  Their reaction would make you think that afterwards, perhaps in the next staff meeting, one or perhaps all of the party involved had to perform some sort of public hara kari or something.  It was that fucking Asian.

Anyway, place is worth the money due to the view. If you have the opportunity though, try and exploit the honor and dignity of the staff. 

Nomad--Manhattan

212-796-1500

I know. Believe me I know.  This is the longest drought since opening Park Avenue in 2007.  True to my word I haven't bothered posting anything about the sub-par, over-priced phenomenon that is the upper-middle class suburb in Jersey.

Nomad, on the other hand is something worth while.  I've been dying to try the chicken for two, a whole chicked (feet included!) that is brined, and then has foi gras, black truffle, and butter stuffed between the skin and the flesh.  I've read about this in lesser reviews, say, the NY times.  And though it's always been accessible, I've just never found the opportunity until now.

Me and the ol wifey wife got an 18-year-old sitter and b-lined it towards the city on a rainy Tuesday.  The place was packed, a hotel/restaurant combo that has a modern yet classic feel with just the right amount of fine dining pretentiousness and skinny hot black chicks.  It had a sexy vibe.  It had a masculine touch.  I felt as though it were in a liquor commercial.   Initially we  sat next to the loudest talking douche you could imagine.  Seriously, even the guests dining with him were a little embarrassed how this guy shouted his way through a conversation.  It was unbearable, and I thought dinner was ruined despite my two+ years of waiting.  Fortunately for us, the waiter was accommodating and we moved two tables down, with plenty of stink eye directed at sir-shouts-a-lot.

Iconman, shut the fuck up, how was the food?  How was the chicken that I'd waited two years to try?  Meh.  The food was prepared well and was interesting.  We had the tar tar, the pear and dacumber salad, and the chicken.  It was good, don't get me wrong.  It was worth the money.  It was WAAAYYY better than anything offered thus far in Jersey.  But I'm not sure if the food begat this enjoyment, or my time away from food of this quality a la Eddie Murphy Raw and the whole cracker routine.  "Was that a ritz!?!"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wRXq8TKq-a8

That's right.  My first video reference.

Word

Nassau, Bahamas

Now we're talking.  Sun, warmth, tourists everywhere.  I finally put myself in a position to get my snob on.  And believe me, I was due.

So there are two places to mention about Nassau, which for those who are not familiar, is the Capital city of the Bahamas on New Providence Island, not the island itself.  And I should also throw in that neither of these restaurants is on Paradise Island, the island just to the east of New Providence famed for its celebrity sightings and the sprawling mega-resort Atlantis, which, though cool for anyone under the age of 12, has very little to offer unless you drive a million dollar yacht.

The first place was simply cool--the Greycliff hotel.  Up a bit off of the beach this place is known for its cigars, old world luxury, and the only place I've ever been that made me feel as though I was a slave owner.  Seriously, everyone of the employees is a well-spoken, well-trained dark skinned human being, with one fat, cigar smoking, cane-holding good-ol-boy sitting on a stool watching them do there thing and collecting obscene amounts of money.  There were at least six servers that touched our table, and when one of them delivered a Hemingway daiquiri incorrectly, I'm pretty sure that she was flogged later that night.  Offensive racial introduction aside, make no mistake this place is expensive.  I'm talking 11 Madison Park expensive.  Per Se expensive.  And believe me when I state it is not pushing the limits of the culinary experience--though Madison Park could take a tip or two about the service.

The food?  Meh.  It's sufficient.  Here's one thing I've learned over the years about vacationing in the Carribean.  Restaurants import talented chef's that design interesting menus.  They import every ingredient needed by sea plane on a daily basis.  They deliver impressive presentations using all of the available resources possible, and then the food comes out just a little flat.  It's like fine dining in Ohio or something, there just isn't that next level quality that you get in major cities.  I've heard theories this has to do with the water, at least in NY, and that might make sense.  I posit, however, that it has more to do with the fact that every single ingredient, save some locally caught fish, is  dipped in petroleum just to get to the island.  It's mother nature's curse.  Sure you can have foie gras, but it's gonna be two days old at a minimum.

Anyway, Greycliff is at least an interesting experience to see this level of service coupled with a true old world atmosphere. The dining room has so many cool, old antique wares you feel as though you're eating in a museum.  If you got a thousand bucks to piss away, it is worth staying a night and having dinner and checking out their Fitzgeraldesque pool.

For the rest of us there's Luciano's of Chicago restaurant.  Located right outside Nassau proper on a beautiful Marina, Luciano's also has local servers, but somehow they don't come off as indentured servants from Ghana.  The food is affordable and delicious.  Considering my prevailing theory above, Italian cuisine, as opposed to French Cuisine, can maintain a freshness easier owing to the fact you're making pasta day of, red sauce day of, etc... The food here was so consistent and enjoyable we didn't risk fucking up a good thing and instead and went there twice.  Oh, and it was also half the price of the Greycliff.