Jersey Shore, Fo Sho

Dear Boo,

We did it!! The Boyfriend and I actually packed up our bags, booked out from work and auditions, dropped a scary chunk of change, and took off for the open road. Cape May was the destination. Goals: sand, surf, seafood, rest, and some QT with my cutie. tee hee. Mission? Mostly accomplished. I've gotta say, and it is with a heavy heart that I do so, that we didn't eat that well!! I'll say this was half our fault, for not planning ahead and making reservations and trying to cut financial corners, thusly ending up picking restaurants while hungry, based on what would feed us fastest. Also, as the Boyfriend pointed out, our approach was all wrong. We'd figured seafood was the way to go, this being a shore town and all, when I think really we should have just gone with what was recommended and looked good. Because ultimately, the seafood we had just wasn't all that. I repeat: this may have been partially our fault.

Regardless, we had a great time. Cape May is a amalgam of ornate Victorian homes, tree-lined streets, miles of wide sandy beaches, cobblestone paths, soda fountains, wildflowers, and your typical shore fare of ice cream shops, arcades, bikini stores, mini-golf, and bars with names like "Cabanas" (yes, we went there). I gotta say--and you KNOW how I LOVE me some Jersey--you can restore Victorian mansions, build first-class hotels, keep the shoreline pristine, charge $30 a plate for dinner, but I'll be damned if this ain't still the JERSEY SHORE. If you knowwhatimean. And I think you do.

The Best Parts:
The Humphrey Hughes House. We picked it fairly blindly, and our hosts reminded me at every stage of booking "Le Petit Room" that the room was VERY small. I was a little afraid we'd end the weekend hanging ourselves from the pipes in a converted broom closet under the stairs in a psychotic episode of claustrophobia. I should have known, coming from a small Manhattan apartment, that the room would be just our size. Yes, the Boyfriend is a large person and could have used a couple of extra feet at the foot of the bed, but aren't you supposed to cozy up when you're away for a weekend? The location is perfect--half a block from the beach, and just a block or two in either direction to all the dining and shopping and ice cream action you could want. The owners were friendly but not in our face--another fear with bed & breakfasts. We were shown to our room and upon closing the door, burst out into giggles and whispers. There's something about a B&B that just makes you feel like you're doing something you shouldn't be.



The breakfasts. Lucky for us anti-social folks, in the warmer months breakfast is served on the porch at tables for two. I particularly liked the carved sweet potato figurines--one morning a cockatoo, another a goose. The Boyfriend particularly liked the extra baked goodie brought around to our table every morning. Here's something interesting--I've always thought there was something wrong with me that I have SUCH a hard time waking up in the morning, no matter how early I go to bed. Turns out, when I have to be at breakfast at 9 or risk missing out on a hot apple turnover, I rise and shine, singing like a dove. Fascinating.

The bedside sherry in our room. Such a lovely touch, especially when you can drink it after dinner in a rocking chair, on the wraparound porch, with the salty beach air tousling your hair.

Porches are also good for drinking prosecco or having an evening snack of complimentary port with pretzels and homemade cookies. Not that we did that or anything...

Frozen Custard. Need I say more?


The day the skies chose to open up in cascading buckets, we made our daytime activity a trip to The Lobster House--the one place we had to drive to all weekend. While it didn't blow us away (perhaps this was our fault as well as we should have just stuck to the lobster), there were a couple of standouts. The bread. An entire loaf, served warm, crusty on the outside and dotted with poppyseeds, onion, and salt crystals, it made a mockery of the tiny cutting board it was served on, held in place by a steak knife. That's whati'mtalkingabout.

And the steamed clams were just perfect. You know how I love food that comes with dipping sauce.
The beach. Most delicious of all.

The sunset from Sunset Beach. Walk to the end of the promenade and you're at the very tip of Jersey where you can see the sunset which is hard to catch here on the East Coast. The Boyfriend will tell you we missed the actual sunset but as far as I'm concerned, pink and orange clouds + twilight= sunset. harumph.

Back to reality. Sigh. At least I've got the complimentary Humphrey Hughes House Cookbook to comfort me. I hope it can teach me how to make a sweet potato giraffe.

Love,

The Mouse

P.S. We also really liked listening to the free blues show at The Boiler Room at Congress Hall, and dinner at Gecko's, but I have no pictures. Guess we'll have to make another trip. The things we do for art.

P.P.S. If you're going to Cape May, I'd also recommend staying at our friend's great house right on the beach, the May Caper. I hear there are margaritas on the porch if you're lucky...

Cheesequake, or, Rock Waits for No Meal

Dear Mouse,

OK so as you know last night I played a Very Fancy Theatre Event to benefit the Public Theatre's Shakespeare Lab at a Very Fancy Apartment on the Upper West (Fancy) Side. (Fellow Lab Alums Bari Robinson, Natalie Paul, and Lydia Gaston also performed, throwing down some sonnets.) Remember how I was all excited to go undercover for this post, grabbing surreptitious shots of celebrity hands reaching for hors d'oeuvres and whatnot?

Yeah that didn't happen. Between nerves about A) singing in front of glitterati and B) getting the hell out in time to drive the band to Asbury Park NJ!! for the second gig of the night - there was really no time (gasp!!) for food. This, then, was the theme of the night, and hence of this post.

Here's the only shot I managed.

Cool, though, right??

In sum: 1 glass white wine, 2 tiny (TINY) filet mignon-on-crostini with horseradish sauce, 2 tiny tiny seared tuna on rice crackers w/wasabi, 3 tiny mushroom thingys in puff pastry = Boo's dinner. Lovely hostess asks my band's name. ( Boo's Mental note: In future, lie about band name at fancy cocktail parties. Also, use more than one bite for crostini.)

OMG it's 8 by now and I have to be onstage in NJ at 10!!. Panic. Sing, flee, go pick up these guys -
- and we're on our way to here:
Travelers: there is NO FOOD in Asbury Park. The natives subsist only on beer and Springsteen.

Just before going on, I inhale a bag of Sun Chips.

We made it in time!!! to play a 1030 set at the "Females Rising" night (oy) at this legendary, mighty Jersey club. I hit the weathered, proudly grungy stage still wearing my pink dress and heels from the cocktail party. Nevertheless, we had them at "Whipping Post". They danced!

Love and thanks to PhanPhest Entertainment for the show and to MC from The Rag, who interviewed us afterwards (for the December 4 issue, the same date we hit the Knitting Factory Main Stage in NYC!) . A sneak preview: "The music's so good the lyrics don't have to be... and then you realize they are." Sigh. Thanks.

Ladies and gentlemen, the Sexy Children:


Boys, please!!! There's enough of me to go around!!



That's better.

On the way home, we are starving enough to stop in Cheesequake -

?????

-which is a real place, and eat Burger King, after a prolonged and noisy argument in the car.
(I believe I actually said, "I WILL turn this car around!!")

Beggars can't be choosers:


(I had Chicken Tenders, which are basically McNuggets shaped like chickens.)
(Look closely: you can see Dan is actually eating a yogurt parfait from Sbarro. And sulking.)

We hit home in the wee hours of the AM, grunt goodbye to each other, go home.

In the morning I eat this for breakfast:
and I feel much better. (leftover baked apple. Yeah, I ate it lying on its side. What? you don't know.)

Love,

The Boo

Hacklebarney Cider Sunday

Dear Boo,

This weekend, Jeff and I took one of those old fashioned Sunday drives out into the country on what has become a nearly yearly field trip to this place:

You and I used to take drives to the Hacklebarney Farm Cider Mill with mom and dad back in the day when I would stand outside the open garage door on the side of the main building, peeking in at the gears and presses of the big cider mill that crushed crate after crate of apples into pulp and juice. Then a couple of years ago, a friend and I were talking about pumpkin picking and when researching where we could go, I came across this place again (where during September and October, they also open up a pick your own pumpkin field). We came for the pumpkins, but discovered the bakery store and lunch options and vowed we'd return.

When I was about 8, someone told me that hot dogs had pig hooves in them, and that was IT for me. I refused to eat any for years to come....Except on one visit to the cider mill where I tried one of their dogs boiled in cider and declared it to be a singular treasure--the ONLY hot dog I would eat. Now, an avowed hot dog lover, the cider dogs keep bringing me back to Hacklebarney.

Jeff and I pulled up to the cider mill on a cloudy, windy, very cold day around 2:30, ready for some lunch. The whole farm seems to be permeated by a fog of sweet baking smells which just adds to the beauty of the place. We headed past the main house with the bakery store, and straight to the little shack where lunch is served. A young guy came out of the smaller house which holds the bakery and asked what we wanted. Cider dogs with cider and apple sauerkraut, and cider baked beans, please. We stood, stamping our feet against the cold, savoring the hot tasty lunch. The beans are syrupy and thick with chunks of apple and the sauerkraut is crunchy and sweet and sour and plentiful. And the dog--well, let's just say I still think this place is onto something major by boiling them in cider. I love a charred grilled hot dog as much as the next guy, but that's for summer. For a crisp fall day, I'd take this ANY day.

The drive to the Cider Mill is beautiful. Once you're off the highway you'll find yourself on back country roads along a babbling creek with old stone homes tucked into the hills along the path. If you make it out earlier in the season you'll get a lovely sampling of the leaves turning. The Mill is on the edge of Hacklebarney State Park which is full of beautiful paths through the woods if you're feeling adventurous. We, however, were cold and lazy, it being a grey sunday, and stuck to the warm inside of the bakery store where they sell pies (600 to order for thanksgiving, to be precise), apple dumplings, puff pastries, hot cider, mulling spices, and gallons of cider to take home. Oh, and cider donuts--powdered, cinnamon powdered, and pumpkin (the place was pretty quiet while we visited, but don't be deceived--the pumpkin donuts had sold out around 11am):

The donuts are light and fluffy--the kind you can plow through a few of before realizing the damage you've done. The cider taste is mild and not overly sweet--the dusting of sugar is all it needs. I bought a dozen. The Boyfriend was very appreciative.

Before we headed out, I also bought some cold cider and a basket of apples, the Mill's "Pie blend" of winesap, idared, golden delicious and a few others, good for baking or eating.

If you're looking for a jaunt out of the city one sunny, cold afternoon, I can't recommend this enough. Going earlier in the season is probably your best bet if you want to walk around or get a pumpkin, but as you can see, any time is worth it for lunch and some goodies, and petting the farm golder retreiver or cat.


And if you're Jeff, you might have the foresight to locate a Trader Joe's in Jersey on the way back so you can enjoy the other attraction of suburbia--normal sized supermarkets. Ahhhh. All you people who scorn Jersey--just give me an afternoon and I'll have you eating your words.

Also, give me a couple of days and I'll have an apple pie for you. Well, maybe not the pie itself, unless you're very lucky, but a forthcoming entry with the recipe and photos to drool over until you make your own. Til then...

Love,

The Mouse