Bringing Down the White Picket Fence

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When I see clam strips on a menu, my memory takes me back to this building.  I also like to sneak an order in when Michelle isn’t looking. Most people recognize this place as the Robinson Ale House, but for me, it’s the Howard Johnson.  Its orange exterior has since been painted to take on its more modernized existence.  I remember it as the place my father and I went to eat… Read More

There’s just something about being a Jersey Girl that keeps me grounded.  Perhaps everybody feels this way about their home state.  Maybe being a Wyoming Girl is just as cool, just as delicious, just as fabulous.  What I do know is this: living in Maryland during my early adult years, I quickly realized being a crab cake eating, Old Bay spicing, Natty Boh drinking girl ranks just as high as Jersey Girl… Read More