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.