Page Two Hundred Eighty-Five.
I arrived in New York on Friday Evening, stayed the weekend and then drove up to Vermont on Monday morning. I'm still very good friends with Diana, the woman who hired and supervised me at Fancy-Shmancy Nursing Home, in 2003, until she retired in 2004. She has a place in Vermont and when we discovered that we'd both be in New England the same week we knew that I'd have to go up and say "Hi!". My hostess's husband died some months ago, and she's not getting younger, so who knows if this was my last time up there? Subsequently, I only wanted to savor every moment among those trees and hills. This was my 3rd time visiting and it's absolutely beautiful. Hardwick, a tiny pocket of the world with a few thousand inhabitants, is quite far north, just a short drive from Canada and the scenery is spectacular. It's also the largest village for about 20-30 minutes in any direction. So it's the buzzing metropolis for that part of the galaxy.
Diana's daughter, Julie, and her boyfriend, Jim, live in the Vermont home year round and one evening Diana, Jim and I went to dinner at Vermont Supper Club, a nice place nearby. Julie didn't join us due to her work schedule, but she and Jim both declared it to be a good eatery. It was tres fancy by Vermont standards (Vermonters, ultra-sophisticated and well-educated as they are, do prefer to wear their plaid and denim) and the food was good. Not great but good, I'd recommend it.
It's decor was casually elegant. In Cleveland, it's tables would have had white tablecloths and chrome candle sticks. But as it was, the tables were polished wood with contemporary, white porcelain salt and pepper shakers. There was complimentary bread and butter, though the butter was mixed with something which didn't add to the effect. Also, each table received a plate of freshly fried shrimp or crab or something. It's unexpectedness was quite charming and whatever it was tasted very good.
I got a burger with onion rings and a salad as Diana was treating. The rings sucked as the ratio of batter to onion was sinful. I mean really, REALLY sinful. We're talking Sodom and Gomorrah here. But you know what? I'm not even going there. I know going in that most places ruin their rings. I'm just always fascinated by the new, creative and unusual ways by which they do it. But my salad and burger were strong so I was happy.
My salad was interesting, not skimpy and also accompanied by a good house dressing. My burger was presented medium as ordered, anther surprise, and juicy and flavorful. As I was in Vermont, I felt obliged to get Cheddar melted on top and it was nice and sharp. Diana and Jim were also happy with their meals of large dinner salads. Upon exiting we all felt satisfied, pleased with the decor, prices, presentation, service and food experience. I liked it and would go back.
Vermont Supper Club - Hardwick, Vermont (seriously... the middle of nowhere). My rating 7.5/10
(Would be higher if not for the rings.)
Showing posts with label Vermont. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vermont. Show all posts
Thursday, August 28, 2014
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Only One Day Of The Feast
Page Two Hundred Eighty-One.
Last year I wrote heavily about one of my favorite events: Cleveland's Feast of the Assumption. I won't get into that again, here and now. But, suffice it to say, the food is extravagant and one of the things I look forward to the most during the entire calendar. This year though, I'm off to New York City to help my ex-step-nephew celebrate his wedding which will be the same weekend. So, I'm only going to catch one day of the most glorious food that Cleveland-based Italians have to offer. I may not survive the lack of nourishment.
By the way, after NYC, I'm off to Vermont for a couple of days to visit some other friends. One friend in Vermont is the head chef at a vacation lodge and the other friend is her mother who's an elderly, German woman. NYC food... head chef food... elderly, German woman food... okay, fine... I won't starve, I guess.
Last year I wrote heavily about one of my favorite events: Cleveland's Feast of the Assumption. I won't get into that again, here and now. But, suffice it to say, the food is extravagant and one of the things I look forward to the most during the entire calendar. This year though, I'm off to New York City to help my ex-step-nephew celebrate his wedding which will be the same weekend. So, I'm only going to catch one day of the most glorious food that Cleveland-based Italians have to offer. I may not survive the lack of nourishment.
By the way, after NYC, I'm off to Vermont for a couple of days to visit some other friends. One friend in Vermont is the head chef at a vacation lodge and the other friend is her mother who's an elderly, German woman. NYC food... head chef food... elderly, German woman food... okay, fine... I won't starve, I guess.
Monday, December 30, 2013
On Comforting The Grieving
Page One Hundred Seventy-Four.
I try to do one good deed per year, even if it kills me. I don't ever try for two. That's just waaaaay too many for one person. No... one good deed per year is just the right amount. Yessiree Bob... one nice thing for somebody else each year. It's a philosophy which has takes it's toll in the form of many headaches over the years, all these good deeds. But somebody's gotta do 'em.
I have a former boss-lady, Carol. Carol hired me into the activities department at Fancy-Shmancy Nursing Home and she was then my supervisor until she retired. I started there in the spring of 2003 and she retired in '04. We've stayed in touch ever since.
Carol and her husband, Bob, bought a second home in Vermont in 2005. I've been up there twice to visit and I love Vermont. It's beautiful country. I'll tell the entire story of this home another time. But for now, just know that during the last 11 years I've bonded with Carol and Bob. Also, their daughter Alice lives in Vermont so we've spent time together and I've met Carol's son, Ted, on a couple occasions.
Bob and Carol (a former nun.) are incredibly active in their large, left-leaning Methodist church. (This, as opposed to the very large, right-leaning Methodist church where, last spring, I threw my Passover Seder for 275.) Frequently over the years, whenever I've needed a "Carol fix" I would simply show-up at their church, say hi! for a couple hours and then be on my way. Subsequently, her church family and I have gradually gotten to know each other, too. Her church family is always full of warm embraces whenever little, 'ole, Jewish me darkens their doors. (This really confused Alice when we first met. She was under the impression that I was one of her mom's church friends. But then she and I spoke at length one evening in Vermont. The next day she said to her mom, "wait a minute, who is this person? Jeremy sure doesn't act like your other church friends." Carol just laughed and explained that I'm one of those people who's equally comfortable attending church or synagogue, enjoying sordid strip clubs, feeding and caring for heroin addicts, watching the Brady Bunch with 10 year-olds, dancing 'till 4AM at seedy night clubs, studying exhibits at the art museum or lounging at an auto garage with a bunch of brutish mechanics on a lazy afternoon. Ever since the explanation, Alice and I have gotten a great kick out of each other.)
Last May, Bob was given 8-12 weeks to live. They went up to Vermont because that's where he wanted to die. But his body refused to succumb. So they came back down to Cleveland in September. Ever since then, it's been a slow decline. In October he told me that he was ready and tired but his body refused to quit. Well, it finally did quit last Monday, December 23rd, 2 days after his and Carol's 40th anniversary.
In reality, there's nothing anybody can do for a grieving family except provide some type of comfort in whatever form can be found. Which is, of course, the hard part... figuring out the form. On Thursday I phoned Carol and offered up some food, if it was needed. I always hesitate to take food to a grieving family because I assume that's what all the other friends take. Then the family is stuck with tons of eats and not enough people to consume them. However, Carol took me up on my offer. She said that Alice would be arriving on Saturday and how about if I brought food for everybody on Sunday, yesterday, then we'd all eat dinner together. She said that Ted and his girlfriend would stop by and maybe a couple of other friends would be there. This is just the sort of project which keeps me going.
I decided to cook enough for 8 and hope for the best. I made an old-fashioned Jewish Mother dinner. That really is what I excel at anyhow. Matzo ball soup, salad, brisket, Brussels sprouts, glazed carrots, wild rice, gravy and dinner rolls with butter. Plus, 3 desserts from Gallucci's Italian grocer 'cause I couldn't decide - cherry strudel; poppy seed roll and chocolate decadent cake. The only things I didn't bring were salad dressing and beverages. Upon my arrival, Carol announced that Ted's and Alice's best childhood friends would be joining us so it would be 8 total. It was meant to be. We all had a wonderful time laughing and talking. The kids were surrounded by their closest friends in the world to support them and we all ate comfort food together. It was my good deed for the year. Without a moment to spare, too! December 29th, for heaven's sake...
Bob's memorial will be next Sunday at 2PM. It'll be enormous. There'll be hundreds attending, I promise. He lived his dash well. (Bob loved the euphemism of a life as a dash. If you don't know that euphemism, I'll write about it in some future blog.)
I try to do one good deed per year, even if it kills me. I don't ever try for two. That's just waaaaay too many for one person. No... one good deed per year is just the right amount. Yessiree Bob... one nice thing for somebody else each year. It's a philosophy which has takes it's toll in the form of many headaches over the years, all these good deeds. But somebody's gotta do 'em.
I have a former boss-lady, Carol. Carol hired me into the activities department at Fancy-Shmancy Nursing Home and she was then my supervisor until she retired. I started there in the spring of 2003 and she retired in '04. We've stayed in touch ever since.
Carol and her husband, Bob, bought a second home in Vermont in 2005. I've been up there twice to visit and I love Vermont. It's beautiful country. I'll tell the entire story of this home another time. But for now, just know that during the last 11 years I've bonded with Carol and Bob. Also, their daughter Alice lives in Vermont so we've spent time together and I've met Carol's son, Ted, on a couple occasions.
Bob and Carol (a former nun.) are incredibly active in their large, left-leaning Methodist church. (This, as opposed to the very large, right-leaning Methodist church where, last spring, I threw my Passover Seder for 275.) Frequently over the years, whenever I've needed a "Carol fix" I would simply show-up at their church, say hi! for a couple hours and then be on my way. Subsequently, her church family and I have gradually gotten to know each other, too. Her church family is always full of warm embraces whenever little, 'ole, Jewish me darkens their doors. (This really confused Alice when we first met. She was under the impression that I was one of her mom's church friends. But then she and I spoke at length one evening in Vermont. The next day she said to her mom, "wait a minute, who is this person? Jeremy sure doesn't act like your other church friends." Carol just laughed and explained that I'm one of those people who's equally comfortable attending church or synagogue, enjoying sordid strip clubs, feeding and caring for heroin addicts, watching the Brady Bunch with 10 year-olds, dancing 'till 4AM at seedy night clubs, studying exhibits at the art museum or lounging at an auto garage with a bunch of brutish mechanics on a lazy afternoon. Ever since the explanation, Alice and I have gotten a great kick out of each other.)
Last May, Bob was given 8-12 weeks to live. They went up to Vermont because that's where he wanted to die. But his body refused to succumb. So they came back down to Cleveland in September. Ever since then, it's been a slow decline. In October he told me that he was ready and tired but his body refused to quit. Well, it finally did quit last Monday, December 23rd, 2 days after his and Carol's 40th anniversary.
In reality, there's nothing anybody can do for a grieving family except provide some type of comfort in whatever form can be found. Which is, of course, the hard part... figuring out the form. On Thursday I phoned Carol and offered up some food, if it was needed. I always hesitate to take food to a grieving family because I assume that's what all the other friends take. Then the family is stuck with tons of eats and not enough people to consume them. However, Carol took me up on my offer. She said that Alice would be arriving on Saturday and how about if I brought food for everybody on Sunday, yesterday, then we'd all eat dinner together. She said that Ted and his girlfriend would stop by and maybe a couple of other friends would be there. This is just the sort of project which keeps me going.
I decided to cook enough for 8 and hope for the best. I made an old-fashioned Jewish Mother dinner. That really is what I excel at anyhow. Matzo ball soup, salad, brisket, Brussels sprouts, glazed carrots, wild rice, gravy and dinner rolls with butter. Plus, 3 desserts from Gallucci's Italian grocer 'cause I couldn't decide - cherry strudel; poppy seed roll and chocolate decadent cake. The only things I didn't bring were salad dressing and beverages. Upon my arrival, Carol announced that Ted's and Alice's best childhood friends would be joining us so it would be 8 total. It was meant to be. We all had a wonderful time laughing and talking. The kids were surrounded by their closest friends in the world to support them and we all ate comfort food together. It was my good deed for the year. Without a moment to spare, too! December 29th, for heaven's sake...
Bob's memorial will be next Sunday at 2PM. It'll be enormous. There'll be hundreds attending, I promise. He lived his dash well. (Bob loved the euphemism of a life as a dash. If you don't know that euphemism, I'll write about it in some future blog.)
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