When I'm right, I'm right, and I was right. Last night we went to Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, so that we could scout out the Marshall's for more pasta sauce. Again, only one jar of sauce in the entire store! This one had portabella mushrooms and something else I can't remember, but we bought it. We walked out with our one item feeling very proud. Michael asked me whether I wanted to eat in Lewes or Rehoboth, and I was trying to be frugal, so I said Rehoboth. I thought we'd go into town, stop in at Grotto's for pizza, and be off again for under $20.
Instead, he pulled into the lot under the huge ORECK vacuum cleaner sign on Route 1, and we parked at Nage.We were skeptical as to whether we would be able to get a table, it being Friday night around 7:15. Who goes to dinner almost anywhere at 7:15 without a reservation? We've eaten at the bar before, and loved it, so we thought, what the heck? We got a table, so I'll get right to the food.
Our waiter, John, who has served us before, was pleasant and knowledgeable. We weren't interested in the $59 tasting menu, and hoped to have just a sandwich and a beer. Sadly for us, all their draft beers are local craft brews which, around here, means hoppy ales rather than the lager beers we like, so instead of beer we had Dark and Stormys made with Black Seal rum and Black Seal ginger beer. Both of us had been on Islesford in our minds all day, so the drinks were the perfect nightcap.
John told us about the specials, paying particular attention to the beet soup. He said it was thick and rich and delicious--if we liked beets. After he left to get the drinks, Michael and I discovered we were on the same wavelength. We both wanted the beet soup and a sandwich; I chose the crab cake; he picked the prime rib burger.
The soup came fairly quickly, and it was beautiful. It was served in a white bowl with a large lip that was curved under so that it looked almost like an upside-down hat. The soup was a smooth puree, that perfect beet red, with dots of cocoa nibs and a goat cheese fritter that was about the size of a ping pong ball, flash fried to a crisp outside and a creamy inside. To say it was delicious would be an understatement. It was rich, earthy; there was no identifiable seasoning, just perfectly cooked and pureed beets.
The sandwiches looked as good as they tasted. My crab cake was huge and meaty, served on a bun with tomato-and-onion jam (sweet and delicious) and a side (think side of cow) of shoestring fries that were drizzled with truffle oil. Michael's prime rib burger was equally large, covered in melted cheese, and accompanied by those same fries. Except for sharing a bite of each sandwich, we communicated very little during the eating phase, except to say things like, "Oh my God, that's good." It was everything we wanted and then some.
So we spent three times as much as we might have--why shouldn't we? We both had rough weeks, mine filled with grading, Michael's with grass cutting and other yard work, at home and at the farm. As we were driving away, heading toward home, Michael asked if he had surprised me. I told him he had, a little, because I know him, and he had been wanting a nice evening out. There's no better way to spend a Friday night than having dinner at Nage, and I told him so as I thanked him for a wonderful evening. We drove the hour back home listening to Paul McCartney's "Hello New York City" CD, holding hands in the car.
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