Bringing Down the White Picket Fence
A Couple's Quest to Live Globally
When people ask me where I’m from, naturally I say Belmar. But that answer never satisfies. It doesn’t explain my slight southern twang of an accent and almost always makes people say, “Are you sure you are from NJ?”. That’s when I tell them about my 9 years in Maryland, how I started out going to college at Salisbury University on the Eastern Shore, and how I began my career in education across the bridge, in a lovely rural area located on the outskirts of Baltimore City. Yes, this is why I say phone and home in a sort of way that only my Maryland friends can understand. Baltimore is truly, as Natty Boh simply puts it, “The Land of Pleasant Living”, and while I can’t say my twenties were always pleasant, living in Baltimore was. Read on to find out why I love B-more so much and why Paul has come to love it too.
First, this post is not about the Inner Harbor. While the Inner Harbor is one of Baltimore’s biggest attractions, it’s also its biggest tourist trap. Go once, gather around the magician, gawk at the sharks in the big tanks at the aquarium, and get out. There is so much more to Baltimore you have to experience and it’s not there! Now don’t get me wrong, I like the Inner Harbor. After all, it had a great deal to do with how Paul and I became “Paul and I”. I love it for that reason. Beyond that, you must exit the Inner Harbor immediately and explore!
Camden Yards. Trendy and tasty home of the Baltimore Orioles. Our most recent visit and reason for this blog post, was for our now annual mighty Mets weekend, where tickets are cheap, food is fabulous, and good friends abound. While I didn’t get to meet up with any of my Maryland girls this visit, we did get to spend some quality time with some close Jersey friends and fellow Met’s fans. Camden Yards wins Michelle’s favorite baseball stadium award. Not only is it beautiful and quaint, its overflowing with amazing food! In fact, if you are planning a trip to Camden Yards, spend the extra money and eat in the stadium. Don’t go out for a big overpriced dinner in the Inner Harbor. Trust me, wait til you get to the stadium….its sooo good. I made sure to get a pork sandwich with barbecue sauce and if I wasn’t trying to be good due to all this dieting for the wedding, I would have had french fries with vinegar and Old Bay, and perhaps another barbecue sandwich, this time pit beef. It’s amazing the kind of self-control one can gain when dress fittings are involved…
The poor Orioles. Our Mets swept them in the series and blanketed their city in blue and orange. Hotels were sold out and Mets fans were smiling as they embarked upon their cheap weekend getaway. We saw two games-Saturday night and Sunday afternoon. It was glorious to be able to buy last-minute, great seats, for affordable prices. That’s rare, if not impossible, in New York.
Sunday morning, pre-game, Paul and I ventured into Hampden to check out my fave breakfast restaurant-The Golden West Cafe. If you love southwestern fare and hot sauce on your eggs, Golden West is the place for you. The menu is overflowing with breakfast quesadillas, burritos, and huevos rancheros. They have possibly the best french toast I’ve ever seen and if I ate french toast, I’d tell you how tasty it is. The fact is-I hate breakfast and french toast and cousin pancake. Yea, yea, I know it’s the most important meal of the day and all, but lunch and dinner are my most important meals and I am one to think it is totally appropriate to eat last night’s leftovers for breakfast. In fact, just ask Paul about some of the Italian leftovers he’s found me munching on at 8am on a Saturday morning. I don’t know who made the breakfast rules of America, but I think we should all have the freedom to eat whatever we want for breakfast. That’s why I love the Golden West so much. Quesadillas for breakfast with hot sauce and black beans. So much more than bacon and eggs and ten times better. If you ever travel to Baltimore, this restaurant is a must. Check it out here http://goldenwestcafe.com/index.htm . I promise it won’t disappoint.
So Paul and I are getting married-in 20 days! We must apologize for our lack of blogging and promise to be back in full swing after we tie the knot.
The Mets. If anyone really knows Paul and I, they know we have a serious fondness for the New York Mets. Most people probably assume that I only love the Mets because Paul does, but if you really know your Michelle trivia, you will know my love of the Mets began back in the late 80’s when #9, Gregg Jefferies, played second base. Most, if not all, Mets fans make fun of me for this. Gregg was no Keith Hernandez or Lenny Dykstra and I acknowledge and understand that he didn’t win, or even take them, to a World Series. I don’t really think he did much for the Mets, but I liked him and that was all that mattered. It also helped that my uncle was an avid Mets fan and I adored my Uncle Herdie more than anything in the world. He listened to almost every game on his radio and I know if he was alive today he’d be proud to know I was marrying a serious Met’s fan. I wonder what he’d think of Citi Field?
Citi Field. Oh yes, that’s where this post is going. You see, Paul’s father brought Paul to Shea Stadium for the first time when he was a small boy, back when it was affordable to take your son to a ball game. They attended many games together and even witnessed Todd Pratt hit his historic homerun in a 1999 playoff game against the Arizona Diamondbacks. It goes without saying that Shea Stadium held a special place in Paul’s heart and, when it was torn down last year, Paul had a difficult time saying goodbye. We even took a special trip to bid farewell when only a slab remained standing amongst the surrounding rubble.
Paul remained a Mets fan, but struggled to accept Citi Field and all of its new fangled modernness. He refused to attend a game at the Met’s new home, and only attended games on the road, once in Baltimore and once in Washington, D.C. “They tore down my stadium” was all he could say.
This season, I determined it was time for Paul to move on and for his recent birthday I bought him tickets to see the Mets vs. the Nationals at Citi Field. Paul agreed it was time and, last weekend, we took the Sea Streak (our favorite mode of transportation) out to the stadium. How cool is it that we can take a boat from NJ to NYC?
Citi Field. The structure itself is beautiful. Its new, its clean, its modern. We made sure to stop by the famous homerun apple for a photo opportunity.
If you didn’t know, this big piece of Shea history, now sits in front of Citi Field. We entered through the grand Jackie Robinson Rotunda, gathered our scarves (it was Mets scarf day, how appropriate considering the weather), and took our first official tour of the Mets new home.
Its amazing what a major league baseball stadium has become these days. Is it a baseball stadium or an overpriced amusement park? Years ago, a father took his son to a baseball game, taught him about the game, maybe even showed him how to keep score. Today, if you can afford to take your children to a game, they can go play wiffleball while you watch the game on tv at one of the trendy clubs. Yes, I’m serious. Who buys tickets to a game to watch it on television? I can do that from the comfort of my living room and the food is much cheaper.
Speaking of the food. I had a nice conversation with a very polite hot dog 
vendor while we were there. You see, as I was passing him the money for the $10 hot dogs, I noticed the large and noticeable button he was wearing that said “Hot Dog-312 calories”. When I asked him why he had to wear a reminder of the dangers of consuming a hot dog when I’m months away from my wedding dress, he said that those tacky buttons were state law. Yes, every time we went to purchase an overpriced food or beverage item, we were reminded of the hundreds of calories we were overindulging in. I guess having the hot dog, a sausage sandwich, and a pretzel was probably over the top on the Citi Field calorie meter. Thank you Citi Field, now I can’t even watch a baseball game without feeling incredibly guilty for eating the all American hot dog. Geez.
In the end, surprisingly, the Mets lost. I know, I know, hard to believe. We love them still, despite their trendy new home and the constant frustration they put us through.
We will miss you Shea Stadium-you weren’t clean and you didn’t have a sushi bar, but you were all about the game.
Hotels
The Hudson-http://www.hudsonhotel.com/#/home/
The Marcel-http://www.themarcelatgramercy.com/
The Hotel Roger Williams-http://www.hotelrogerwilliams.com/
Lunch Restaurants
El Rio Grande-http://www.arkrestaurants.com/elrio_grande.html
The Central Park Boathouse-http://www.thecentralparkboathouse.com/
The Bryant Park Grill-http://www.bryantpark.org/amenities/dining.php
Dinner Restaurants
Lupa-http://www.luparestaurant.com/
Eighty One-http://www.81nyc.com/
Maria Pia-319 West 51st Street
New York, NY 10019-6441
Favorite Sites and Things to Do
Walk across the Brooklyn Bridge
Walk through Central Park
Take a trip on The Circle Line
Go to Mets games via SeaStreak
Favorite Museums
Museum of Natural History
Museum of the City of New York
Museum of Modern Art
Transit Museum-Brooklyn
Brooklyn Museum of Art
NY Institute of Photography
The Intrepid
Favorite Memory
Just months into their relationship, Michelle dragging Paul to the set of the TODAY show at 5am to see Matt Lauer and Al Roker. Despite his kicking and screaming all the way there, Paul stood in the cold with Michelle to help fulfill her longing to stand outside at the set of the show. They had no idea what or who would be on the show that day and, at 7am, Al Roker announced what a very special day it would be just as the new Rockefeller Christmas tree came rolling in on a flatbead truck. Michelle and Paul spent almost the entire day mesmorized by the process of getting such a gigantic tree off of a truck and prepped for the plaza. If Michelle could have hand picked the show herself, this would be the very show she would have chosen.
On cold winter weekends, Paul and I always find a need to walk the streets of NYC. Bundled up with gloves, scarves, and earmuffs, we venture to some of our favorite places, all the while wishing for warmer weather and proclaiming our love for summer. Our noses are red and we can barely feel our toes, but there is something about that city that keeps us coming back for more.
For us, a typical weekend in NYC includes some of our favorites: El Rio Grande (absolutely the best Mexican restaurant in NYC, in our opinion), a walk through Central Park to the lovely Boathouse, a trip to a museum for a little culture, and a healthy walk across the Brooklyn Bridge. This weekend though, we decided to try some new things and also visit an old favorite that we absolutely adore.
Our first adventure this weekend: Brooklyn. To be honest, Paul and I are newbies to this area, but we crave to know so much more. We love the Brooklyn Bridge…architecturally its beyond magnificent. Its beauty and its grandeur as it spans across the East River is magical. (It wa
s an easy and obvious choice for the site of our engagement photo shoot with Julie Harris, our awesome wedding photographer). Although we love the bridge, we’ve had little experience exploring Brooklyn itself. This Saturday, we decided to find out just what Brooklyn is all about. Our first stop, (although I’m now ashamed to say), was…Grimaldi’s Pizzeria….
If you haven’t heard of Grimaldi’s, look it up. It’s famous and its featured on almost every food television show ever made. We recently saw it on the Travel Channel’s 101 Best Places to Chow Down and the food looked mouth watering and delicious. It also looked like a hole in the wall (just the kind of places we like). I guess you could say we are pizza enthusiasts, or maybe just pizza addicts, and we thought it was our duty to find out if this Grimaldi’s place was really the best.
Before I reveal our thoughts, let me explain our experience. First off, you don’t just walk into Grimaldi’s. No, no, no…you stand in line, along with many other people who probably just watched that same episode on the Travel Channel that you did. We waited on line for an hour. Let me repeat, we waited on line for an hour just to get into a pizza parlor. While waiting, we discussed our biggest fears: 1. We look like tourists waiting to get into a tourist trap. We hate tourist traps and try to avoid them as much as possible. 2. What if it’s really not that good? Is it really worth having frost-bitten toes? 3. No one in line is from New York. Oh, that’s right. The New Yorker’s are those pointing and laughing as they walk past this long line on their way to their favorite pizza parlor.
When we finally got to the front of the line and received the grand offer to come in we got seated right away at a small table for two. By this point, my toes felt frozen and my fingertips numb within my gloves. Unlike the line, the restaurant is small and the people packed in like sardines. Don’t raise your menu too high or you will knock out the person next to you with your elbow. This is not a problem for us. One of our favorite restaurants in NYC is small like this. We decided to order a large pizza with sausage and some warm beverages. They don’t do slices and they only take cash. Also, not a problem. Paul and I have always been able to devour a whole pizza in its entirety on many occasions. Luckily, we didn’t have to wait long for the waiter to come take our order. After all, there are people outside waiting to come in. However, when the waiter got to our table he said nothing. NOTHING. He didn’t even look at us. He just stood there with a smug look on his face and his pen and tablet in hand waiting for US to address HIM. Wait a minute. Did I just stand in that line to get into your restaurant and now you are too good to talk to me?! Are you serious?! Despite my desire to stand up, walk out, and take my business elsewhere, I was hungry and cold. We ordered our food. Our rude and downright unwelcoming waiter brought us our drinks, then our pizza, and finally our check, all without saying a single word! It’s unfortunate they didn’t feature him on the Travel Channel. If they had, I may have never stepped foot in the place.
Now I’ll tell you what we thought: The pizza isn’t bad. After all, we ate the entire pizza, just the two of us. It’s average. It’s not the best and the service leaves something to be desired. We thought our pizza was doughy and contained very little flavor. In our opinion, it was completely overrated. We think Luigi’s on Asbury Avenue should have a line out the door. Their pizza is worth frost-bitten toes and, the people who work there, are overly friendly and treat you like family. Vic’s and Mom’s Kitchen also deserve lines outside the door for good pizza. But Grimaldi’s…eh, it’s just okay. Of course this is just OUR opinion. You might love it. If you are reading this and you love Grimaldi’s, good for you! We, however, will continue to love our Jersey Shore pizza establishments.
Just an aside: I would love to talk with some Brooklyn natives and find out where they go for good pizza. I bet they would have some good recommendations.
Our exploration of Brooklyn didn’t stop there. After Grimaldi’s we took a stroll down through the Dumbo area. Here we perused some really cool furniture stores: West Elm and Bo Concept. Just a few steps away from these places, we fell upon a spectacular view of the Manhattan Bridge. 
Paul took the opportunity to stop and take some photos and then we decided, due to the cold, we’d definitely come back to visit Brooklyn in warmer temperatures. We headed back to the subway and to our hotel in Manhattan. We can’t wait to come back to Brooklyn and hope to have a lengthier and warmer visit the next time around.
After a relaxing afternoon at the hotel, we cleaned up and headed out to one of our old favorites: Mario Batali’s Lupa. This is the place where you will also feel packed in like a sardine, but won’t mind because the food and the ambiance, in our opinion, is absolutely incredible. Paul’s favorite menu item, the thinly sliced prosciutto de parma practically melts in your mouth. I think Paul could visit Lupa and be satisfied with just having several orders of prosciutto de parma. It’s that good. However, you can’t leave Lupa without indulging in some of their other enticing menu items. Another favorite is the saltimbocca: veal pounded flat and wrapped in prosciutto over a bed of braised escarole. Ah, heaven. The pasta is also fantastic and the service has always been impeccable.
You may conclude that most of our posts have to do with Paul’s photography and my eating. If so, you are correct. Paul loves to take photos and I love to eat. He shares in my love of eating and I love his photos. In the end, happy Valentine’s Day everyone! May you love doing what you love, with the one you love, just like we do.
I always believed that if Belmar, NJ ever needed a tour guide, my father would be just the man for the job. In the winter months, he and his lovely assistant Jake could take you on a crawling tour of our little Jersey Shore town. And, I mean, literally a crawling tour. In the summer months, he’d run the special Belmar Bicycle Tour…up to the beach, down to the marina, and if your lucky, to the Boathouse for a drink and a burger so he could relive his “Rescue” days.
In Madrid, Spain, I met a man who reminded me a lot of my father. While I often jokingly refer to my father as “The Chairman of Belmar” (he loves his hometown dearly), this man was The Chairman of Madrid…and he had a society to prove it. Meet The Chairman and his Wellington Society…I will always think of him as one of the BEST decisions we ever made.
Rene and the Chairman
While preparing to take any trip, we always purchase the newest edition of the Rick Steve’s book for the particular country we will be visiting. We trust Rick and find his books to be pretty informative. While perusing the Spain book one evening, Paul came across the Chairman and his Wellington Society while looking for a good tour. He decided to do some research online and after liking what he saw, he contacted the Chairman himself via email. This is where things got interesting. You see, to take part in the Chairman’s tours, you have to become a member of the Wellington Society. For 50 Euros per person, you get a membership card and a VIP tour of Madrid. We also decided to add on the “Hemingway’s Madrid” tour since Paul and I are both fascinated by Ernest Hemingway and his writing. Sounds great right? Well, it all sounded just wonderful until Paul told me we had to send the money to the Chairman’s wife in Minnesota. Minnesota?! For a tour of Madrid, SPAIN? I hate to be a skeptic, but while I was putting that check in the envelope, I was pretty confident we would never see this money again. I could just picture us walking around Madrid saying, “I wonder what that woman is doing with all of our money in Minnesota? What a scam!” But it definitely was not a scam and like I said before, was one of the best decisions we ever made!
We booked our tours for our first two nights in Spain and, if you ever plan to meet the Chairman yourself, I recommend you do the same. Read further and you’ll understand why. He and his wife (she was visiting from Minnesota) picked us up, by foot, at our hotel. This began our VIP walking tour of Madrid. The Chairman (his real name is Stephen Drake-Jones) is a writer and historian and is beyond knowledgable about the history of Madrid. In addition to the plethora of historical information he provides you with, his VIP tour also includes stops for tapas and wine at MANY fabulous cafes. He takes you where the locals go. If you lived in Madrid, this is where you would spend your nights tapas hopping. This is how it goes: The Chairman takes you in, orders his favorite specialties, hands you a glass of wine, pulls up a chair and chats with you like a long-lost friend. He pays for it with all of your money that you sent to Minnesota and then, you are off, to the next café and the next glass of wine! On this tour we were introduced to “The Bullfighting Bar”, El Schotis (the King of Spain’s favorite restaurant), and a café with really good paprika french fries (I can’t recall the name). The Chairman also introduced me to my new favorite summer drink tinto de verranos-red wine mixed with lemon soda. We also got to see the King and Queen’s palace (that they choose NOT to live in) and the very exquisite Town Hall. On the Hemingway tour, we got to visit some of Ernest’s old haunts and try some more fabulous tapas. One of my favorites on this tour was the meatballs! I remember dragging our mothers and Paul around Madrid the following day, just to revisit the restaurant with the amazing meatballs!
The King's favorite restaurant!
Why do I advise taking his tours the first few nights you are there? For the rest of your trip you can go try out these local cafes for yourself and not be hounded by the tourist trap type places that will do anything to overcharge you for terrible food. It’s like meeting up with a friend who introduces you to all the little “hole in the walls” that locals love.
Just an aside…did you know that when you eat tapas at a bar in Madrid, its polite to throw your trash on the floor? You shouldn’t leave your napkin or toothpick on the bar (that’s considered rude), but should throw your trash on the floor so that they do not have to touch your garbage with their hands. They’d rather just sweep it up! I had a hard time with this concept. They keep their restaurants so clean and I hardly felt okay with throwing my napkins on the floor.
Town Hall
The Chairman and his wife’s hospitality was truly unique and we had a wonderful time getting to know them. Their love story (they met while she was taking one of his tours) was heartwarming. We would take another trip to Madrid just to see them again. In fact, we wish we had a Chairman in every city we visit. We learned so much from him, but we are still not sure how he makes any money. He is very generous when it comes to buying food and drinks for you along the way. Not that we are complaining. We envy his lifestyle and think it would be rather fun to have people pay you to go to all of your favorite restaurants and hang outs.
In conclusion, if you are planning to visit Espana anytime soon, give the Chairman a call. We promise you won’t regret it. In fact, why not visit him now? http://www.wellsoc.org/Index.html
Paul submitted our banner photo for the Frommer’s Travel Guide Cover Photo Contest. You can recommend his photo by using the following link! We would really appreciate your help. While you can’t vote for his photo to win, you can recommend his photo for the judges to view. Thank you!
This is what I like to call our “once in a lifetime experience”-we did it once in our lifetime and will never do it again. While vacationing in Madrid, Spain, we took it upon ourselves to witness a bullfight, or several for that matter. When traveling anywhere, Paul and I like to do what the locals do and try to steer clear of what the tourists do. It’s not that we don’t ever do the tourist thing, we do, and its sometimes difficult to avoid. However, we feel if you really want to get to know a place and its culture, you should immerse yourself in it. So we did just that while visiting Madrid.
Rene's reaction.
On this trip,we took our lovely mother’s along with us. We could do a blog just on them and their excursions together in Spain, but that’s for another day. They weren’t so sure they wanted to join us for the bullfight, but after some coercing, we got them to come along. It was an experience none of us will ever forget.
The bullfighting arena in itself is worth seeing. When you walk up the stairs of the subway station, an immense building of grand proportions towers in front of you. It’s old and its craftsmanship is extraordinary. However, what goes on inside is another matter, of which, I still cannot understand.
Walk inside this building and its like going to a baseball game. Purchase a beverage, some popcorn, even a t-shirt. One bit of advice, the concrete seating is not comfortable,so rent a cushion for a small price. Trust me, its worth it. Hand over your ticket, find your seat, adjust your cushion, and wait.
Wait until you see this beautiful animal run out into the arena, full of energy, full of confidence. It has no idea its running into a death trap. It has no idea its going to have to fight for its life in just a few seconds. It has no idea, its death is, in my opinion, a sad form of entertainment.
Then comes the matador. Brightly dressed, waving his cape, he approaches the bull apprehensively only to run and hide behind a small wall when the bull gets too close. They play this game of hide and go seek for a few minutes before the actual slaughter begins. The bull has no chance at this point. The matador himself does not get close to the bull until after he is assisted by friends on horses, the picadors. The picadors poke at the bull with swords and “prepare” him so that the bull really doesn’t have any fight left in him for the final matador-bull face off. The bull is weak by this point, its tongue dangling from its mouth. The matador approaches its horns and plays a game of “wave th
e cape” before finally doing him in.
I could go into more detail about what we saw and what the ending is really like, but I don’t care to. Let’s just say, the matador stabs the bull, the bull falls over, the end. Then it happens all over again, another bull, another matador. Do I understand this spectacle? No, not at all. Will I judge? Its kind of hard not to. I want to be respectful of Spain’s culture and of its values and ideas. I just wonder how many Spaniards value the bullfight today? I wouldn’t describe the arena as crowded on the day we attended. How do the animal rights people feel about this? I need to educate myself more about this, read more, and maybe I’ll understand more.
In Madrid, we had a favorite place we liked to visit-The Bullfighting Bar. Before I attended the bullfight, I saw the bull’s heads adorned on the walls of the Bullfighting Bar and really didn’t give it much thought. No different from seeing a deer head on the wall of a local tavern. After I attended the bullfight, those heads on the wall took on a whole different meaning. I looked at them and felt remorse and pictured how strong and gallant they probably were before their untimely death.
We did like Spain, a lot. If anything, they value time spent with friends, eating, and mingling. We could totally live with having a siesta built into everyday and tapas hopping from one café to the next each night. But the bullfighting? Perhaps we’ll visit a soccer arena next time instead.
Birthday Borgata style this year and due to our visit being in honor of my very special day, the Borgata staff upgraded us, free of charge, to a very luxurious suite. Thank you for the birthday gift Borgata…we will come again, as I’m sure you were hoping.
Now, I know we just blogged about AC not too long ago and, by no means are we AC junkies, but, Paul surprised me with this fun-filled night out at the Borgata for a much-needed mini vacation. In addition to our stay, he included dinner reservations at a hip, modern Japanese pub that I’ve longed to try. Any place that has a jalapeno spicy tuna cracker roll on their menu can reel me in anytime.
We arrived at the Borgata last night around 5:30ish and, after getting the free suite upgrade, I was no longer concerned about the slight scare that I may have locked the car key in the car at the valet station. If the car had to sit in front of the Borgata all night blocking traffic, I didn’t care, we had a suite! I figured if I really did lock the key in the car, someone would call me while I was voyaging through the largest bathroom I’d ever stepped foot in! I can’t believe people actually stay in these kinds of rooms on a regular basis! I could have spent the whole night gawking at the lavishness of the bathroom if only those darn slot machines weren’t calling my name downstairs.
As for the slot machines, I lost my twenty dollars in about twenty seconds this time around and lost Paul’s twenty dollars about twenty seconds later. Apparently slots were purely there for entertainment last night and not monetary gain.
Now, let’s talk about this Japanese pub. Cool ambiance and an abundance of chop sticks readily available at your table. Very hip and modern like they proclaimed. Jalepeno spicy tuna cracker roll was unique and ultra tasty. Two orders of edamame, some pork gyoza, and several rolls later and we were quite full and satisfied. Paul even surprised me with the Happy Birthday dessert at the end. Neither of us care for dessert too much and I absolutely hate cake, but the molten lava chocolate cake they put in front of us was devoured, by both of us, in 30 seconds flat. Paul and I thought the food was delicious, but have two minor complaints. 1. They call themselves a tapas style Japanese pub. Tapas is Spanish and will always be Spanish in our minds. Tapas is jamon and olives, NOT sushi. Trust us, we lived on tapas for a week in Madrid. 2. Don’t rush us. We like to enjoy our food and would prefer to wait, then have all of our food brought out to us in record time. This is not the Amazing Race.
After dinner, we cruised around the Borgata and checked out the sights before returning to our suite and getting some much-needed rest.
This morning we took a short little side trip to Cape May to have some lunch and check out the town. I remembered going to this fresh fish market in Cape May with my parents a few years back and thought Paul might like having lunch there. During the summer months, you can eat outside along the water and the place is usually bustling so much you have to fight to get a seat. Obviously we couldn’t eat outside today, and I had never actually been inside the restaurant before. As soon as we walked in the door, the place was screaming “Free Credit Report.com”. I know you’ve seen that commercial, the one where the guy is singing along to his guitar in the seafood restaurant while the old people are eating in the background, adorned with the lobster bibs. Well, we didn’t see any lobster bibs, but we did see the old people and waitresses wearing ridiculous sailor uniforms. Paul knows some of the words from the song on the commercial and when he began to sing I knew I probably didn’t make the best choice. Food wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t how I remembered it.
We also took a ride to see the Cape May lighthouse, passing by some extra enthusiastic wildlife photographers on the way. Fifty people along the side of the road staring through their cameras at some ducks on some frozen water. Sounds so intriguing doesn’t it? The lighthouse was a little bit of a disappointment, but we did see an old WWII bunker on the beach. We would have taken a walk down to it to get a closer look, but I don’t exactly love walking on a cold beach in January, no matter how pretty the beach in the winter can sometimes be.
Our drive back from Exit 0 (did you know Cape May is Exit 0 on the Garden State Parkway?) was long, but entertaining. Paul and I got into it about the radio, as he hates my musical choices and considers his Ipod mix to be the best playlist known to man. I figured since I was driving and he was sleeping, I should control the radio. So I waited until he was just slightly snoring to turn his Ipod off and my country XM station on. I got about two good minutes of Taylor Swift in before he turned the station off with his foot and lectured me about getting my ears operated on. Paul and I are meant to be together, there is no doubt about that. We can practically read each other’s minds, finish each other’s sentences, and we are totally head over heels in love. But…we will never agree on music. It’s just something we both have to live with, which just means that he will just have to tolerate a little Tim McGraw and Rascal Flatts from time to time.
While he does hate my taste in music, he does respect my choices and proved this by getting me Tim McGraw tickets for a concert just three days before our wedding date. He’s even going to go with me! I hope he still marries me after he hears me belting it out right along with Tim…for better or worse, right?
If there is one thing Paul and I love to do it is finding the hole-in-the-wall eatery that serves up the best authentic food of the area we are in. Living and growing up on the Jersey Shore have made us local food enthusiasts. We KNOW good pizza and we KNOW good bread, but now thanks to Chez Agnes, we KNOW good French food too.
Paris is amazing (I think I’ve mentioned that before). It’s a culinary mecca, need I mention it’s where Giada De’Laurentis and Julia Child went to cooking school. Local cafes with local food abound on every corner. You can find good French food just about everywhere you turn in Paris, however, if you want authenticity, you can only go to the very place we love, Chez Agnes.
When you walk in the door, its like walking into someone’s house. It is at this point that most people would turn around and leave…it doesn’t look like a five-star restaurant, and honestly, it doesn’t smell like one either. Agnes, herself, owns and runs the restaurant, along with her small, friendly, and American (I’ll get to that in a minute) dog. You find a table, there is only about four to choose from, and look around. Two steps in one direction you are in her kitchen, two steps in the other direction, you are back on the streets of Paris.
Agnes only speaks French. If you don’t know any French, this might make you a little nervous. If you know a little French, you will learn quickly that a little French goes a long way when it comes to relating with Agnes herself. She has one menu with only a few select choices. You can get an appetizer, dinner, and dessert for a standard amount of Euros. At first, Agnes might come off as unfriendly, but a smile and a little attempt on your part, will bring out the Agnes you came here for.
She loved us. When I missed one of my escargot, she brought it back to me on a fork and fed it to me! She sat at our table and shared with us how she had adopted an American dog with the help of an American friend. She demanded that I eat the rest of my lamb chop with only my fingers…she insisted that was the ONLY way to eat it. She found joy in sharing our engagement story with the other customers (all four of them) and embraced us with love and affection. And the food, the food was sensational, the very best I’d ever had in this magical city.
Did I mention that Agnes is the waitress, the cook, the dishwasher, and the host? Yes, she does all of these things, with her friendly dog acting as a bit of a host as well.
Our second trip to Chez Agnes, the very next day, was eye-opening. Two Americans, mother and daughter, stopped in for a light dinner. Now, if you want light, don’t go to Chez Agnes. They insisted they would only order salads and kept asking (in English) what kind of salad dressing came on the salads. If Agnes could have, I think she would have told them to get out and never come back, but she kept her cool, all the while giving them funny looks. Although she couldn’t answer their questions because I’m not sure she had any idea what they were saying, they ate their salads without much comment and went on their way. They probably will never step foot in her restaurant again, but why should they if all they want is salad. I was tempted to scream as they left “You are in PARIS, not Ruby Tuesdays” but I think that would have been inappropriate.
In conclusion…if you want to experience what we call authenticity…stop by and see Agnes. Tell her we sent you, and please, don’t order salad.
Despite today’s current economic situation, slot machines will continue to jingle in Atlantic City casinos. If you are like me (I should clarify, Michelle), you stick a measly $20 in a machine, cross your fingers, and hope for the best. Then, once the $20 runs out, you fight the urge to reach into your wallet for just a little more cash. Who knows, perhaps now your luck has changed and this $20 will be the ticket to your long-awaited fortune. Not likely. If you don’t believe this, then just take a short walk along the Atlantic City boardwalk…what you see might just make you want to keep all of your money right in your wallet.
It’s a cold day in December. The ocean has never looked more blue and beautiful. The air is crisp, the wind is calm. You pass a man propped up against a garbage can, bucket of change in hand, begging for his next meal. You think, was he unable to, at one time, resist that urge to keep feeding the slot machines? You keep walking and pass a now empty convention center. Its windows are adorned with the intricate architecture we only see on buildings of the past. This building once filled with the glitter and glam of the Miss America pageant, now abandoned for a new, technological, state of the art facility in the center of the city. What would my grandparents think of this? It’s shameful.
My children (if and when I have them) will never see the glory of this city. They’ll see outlet malls on the piers and t-shirt shops with apparel in every size and color splattered with any cheap and obscene saying you can think of. It’s unavoidable and unfortunate.
I remember my visits to the Atlantic City or Wildwood boardwalk when I was little. It was a treat and it usually only happened about once a year. We got dressed up to go to the boardwalk. Although at the time I thought it was a little silly to be driving bumper cars in a frilly dress, fur coat, and patin leather shoes, I now know just what my parents wanted to teach me. Traveling was a luxury and you got dressed up when you went somewhere, even the boardwalk. In fancy clothes, we would eat greasy cheese steaks or enormous pizza slices from a stand owned by the little man, not a corporate chain restaurant. Simplicity…I liked that.
It may sound strange, but I walked away from my most recent visit to Atlantic City a little inspired to find the nostalgia in places. To close my eyes to the towering casinos and bustling outlet malls and open them to the little pieces of history that still exist. To learn from them before they are replaced. To appreciate. To remember. Because beyond all of the flashy lights of slot machines, there are places that, at one time, knew what it meant to shine.
Bringing Down the White Picket Fence 