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Uh, sir, there's a female
form with a fish tale dangling her womanparts in my soup! Yeah, the
waiter didn't think it was funny either. I wondered aloud if it was
because he had heard it one too many times, or if it was the word
"womanparts" that he took issue with. Whatever the case, he suddenly
became stingy with the specials, only giving up one measly appetizer
special, and not a single main course selection. Was this place really
such a neighborhood joint that regulars had their regular, and needed
nothing beyond that? It seemed unlikely, but I went with it. It wasn't
as if the main menu was extensive either, offering a handful of apps
and several entrees that would send a landlubber into omega-3 fatty
acid shock. I settled on some mussels to start and a mahi mahi main.
The mussels didn't start me off well. Briny and tasting a bit of throatback,
I couldn't help but be worried about the rest of my meal. To my surprise
and delight, the fish was prepared very well, the chive and onion
mash potatoes were deeeelicious, and the old bay fries were some of
the best I've ever had. All of this was served in what could only
be described as an awkward, temporary-feeling space. It was probably
an outdoor patio at some point, but has been given that contractor
special treatment, and incorporated very little adornment or flair.
Sure, it was dry and warm, but they didn't need to go so far to imitate
one of those roadside Cape Cod fish joints (intentional or not). Maybe
the next time we're in the mood to go to somebody else's neighborhood
to eat tasty fish at their neighborhood restaurant we'll try out the
main dining room, skip the mollusks and tip the waiter to smile at
my lame attempts at humor. [MF]
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