|Chef Jim Morse, welcoming presence.|
|Honey Ham, as enticing as a sunset.|
There wasn't a moment's hesitation at questions I threw at them, and they changed out their stations regularly -- my cousin would have approved, I think. Everything was so delicious, in fact, that a platter didn't have a chance to 'sit.' People were eating ravenously and many, like me, ate like student athletes on the football team. I may have felt a twinge of self-consciousness, but that disappeared quickly -- everything was just too good. And I had gone over the stations on the web, had plotted my culinary strategy, and proceeded with small plates so that I could taste everything they had to dish out. And dish out they did. A photo gallery of some of the offerings.
|Olives, olives, olives, salami, and pickled things, like asparagus, were at the first station|
|I named the Oyster Bar "Ed," because|
my friend ate so many! He finally declared himself done when
he could hear them sloshing around in his stomach!
|And more hors d'oeuvre selections|
|Boathouse Prime Rib|
Desserts. Kudos to the pastry chef! There was Creme Brûlée, also, and pie dough pinwheels, with fresh fruit drops at their centers. They were exemplary.
Long story short, The Boathouse is a holiday I mean by that deeply satisfying, to the body and soul. And a satisfaction that lasts. "Serenely full, the epicure would say, Fate cannot harm me, I have dined today." --Sydney Smith, English clergyman and essayist.