Monthly Archives: July 2009

Best day of the week yesterday, moderate wind, about 82, warm water, wonderful breakers. The granddaughters loved it, although I couldn’t figure out how to fold up their sand tent and had to haul the entire thing back to the apartment, like a huge spinnaker sail, hat pulled down over my eyes. I’ve driven over a dozen exotic cars, many with stick shifts, and I can’t fold a sand tent.

We’ve walked past a nondescript café here a hundred times. It’s called Freda’s Café and is adjacent to the shopping district. Enough people told us it was wonderful to influence us to try it. We took the kids, and found ourselves in a very intimate room, but the staff and other patrons were terrific, and so were the kids once we removed everything graspable from Alaina’s and Gabrielle’s reach, which is considerable.

The food was magnificent. Not for Cape May. Not for New Jersey. For anywhere. Better than many “name” New York seafood restaurants, by far. Some of the finest fish and most wonderful preparation in my memory. And the service is cordial and friendly. It’s at 210 Ocean Street, and you need to go there if you’re within any kind of driving distance. Since it’s one of many BYOB establishments here, I was able to find a 2005 Cesare Amarone, which most people might not consume with fish, but I will consume it under just about any conditions.

Our final day here, we drive home tomorrow, Danielle, Alaina, and Gabrielle departed last night. (The Beemer’s computer is almost as difficult as the sand tent.)

(Click on this image to enlarge)

© Alan Weiss 2009. All rights reserved.

Have to catch up a bit. Weather has been good, some rain late afternoon or evening, but not what we feared from the reports.

Dinner at the Black Duck was excellent, as always, augmented by a Cakebread 2003 Merlot. “I don’t get much of that,” said the liquor store owner, “good choice.” Thinking ahead, I said, “Do you have any Montrechet?”

“You must be kidding,” he smiled. (This is the best wine shop in Cape May, but they can’t afford to stock really good stuff even in season.)

Anyway, we had an assortment of appetizers, a wonderful Stilton salad, and then some spectacular tuna.

That evening, my wife receives a 10 pm call from Danielle—she’s downstairs with the granddaughters! They had not communicated her arrival quite accurately to each other, shades of Houston and Pasadena with the Mars lander (inches, vs. centimeters). But, a day early was fine!

The kids loved the Atlantic, making the fourth generation to enter it (that we know of). We all went to the Blue Pig for dinner where, awaiting them at the bar, I was informed I could get the “Belvedere special,” which was a dollar off my martini, making it $8! Grilled Octopus and a “sizzler of shellfish” was polished off with a Joseph Droughin Chablis, my daughter ably assisting.

I’ve sent along a photo which should appear here of an amazing kite hovering near our balcony, I hope it reproduces well. There was a lighted one last night over the beach outside of our apartment.

Tonight we’re off to Wildwood for another long-standing family tradition, a trek up and down the two-mile boardwalk.

(At breakfast today, Alaina downed some banana pancakes while my daughter actually ordered Tater Tots for herself. There is a picture of this ancient, indeterminable food group on my Facebook page if you’re interested in bizarre ritual.)

© Alan Weiss 2009. All rights reserved.

Dinner at Peter Shields last night, one of our favorite places, huge old home across from the beach with a sprawling restaurant on the genteel first floor. BYOB, so I purchased a Silver Oak 2003 Cabernet, which even Maria liked, who drinks very seldom. Shellfish, Caeser, rack of lamb. (Have you noticed that “Caesar Salad” is a misnomer these days? You’re likely to find feta cheese, onions, tomatoes, shrimp, chicken, and an eclair in there. And it’s never made tableside except in rare establishments.)

Drizzly morning, walked over for the papers and had a few staring contests with the “dumpster gulls” trying to undo the tops. I lost the contests and I imagine the dumpsters will lose, too. I must be one of the few people who can’t tolerate Starbucks coffee, even as a ritual, so I made a second stop in an old-fashioned diner with cheaper, better coffee.

The Sales Talk Teleconference has drawn 200 registrants thus far and I’m inquiring about how many orders my automated system can hold, since I don’t want to process them on vacation. Nice problem to have, I guess. Discount deadline still three weeks away.

From our balcony, I’m watching the lifeguards practice in the morning, swimming in rough seas a mile or so, and rowing these ungainly boats through the surf. Those are the folks I want coming after me. They can swim where I’m not able, they can go where I haven’t yet been. Don’t hire a coach or mentor who doesn’t have the same credentials. If all they do is give advice, it’s the equivalent of the lifeguard simply standing on the beach and screaming to you as you flounder, “Tread water! Tread water! Haven’t you read my tips on the Internet?”

(Working Hard)

© Alan Weiss 2009. All rights reserved.

We dined last night at Martini Beach and, sure enough, I snagged a parking space across the street. I still have rolls of quarters in the console from the Newport Film Festival in June, so we gouged the meter and climbed the stairs.

From the balcony dining area you can watch the passing scene with a great perspective. The service is always terrific, though the wine list is, well, a list. But they can make a wonderful, frosty martini, and the manager found a glass of Sauvignon Blanc that went nicely with the outstanding tuna. It was a fabulous meal and the place was packed. I think Cape May is quite crowded this year, and I’m guessing a lot of people have substituted this for a trip to the islands or a cruise. A great many out-of-state plates, some from quite a distance. Restaurants are not hard to get into, meaning that a lot of people are cooking their own meals.

This morning, as is my habit, I awoke at about 6:30, wrote a couple of columns, and then figured that the Sunday Times would have arrived. I hiked two blocks over to the sister property, Congress Hall, and found the newspaper and a cup of coffee. I encountered a guy with three tennis rackets, waiting for a triple shot of espresso. He then went outside to smoke. The humidity is about 98 percent. I told him he was going for the trifecta, and he smiled, telling me I was right. He said he had to change his shirt twice yesterday. I thought he was lucky he didn’t have to change his heart.

I strolled over to the beach. Coffee is not a drink for me, more like a ritual. It’s the excuse to put the dogs in the truck and get some biscuits in the morning, or to have after a nice meal alongside a brandy. But coffee itself is not what I need in my system, so it’s sort of an accessory, like my hat. I sat with my coffee and Times on a bench overlooking the water and the power walkers, joggers, runners, and bike riders in the passing scene. (They can use the mile-long strip until 10 am.)

To each his or her own, but a lot of them looked very unhappy to me, and very temporary. You can tell the real runners by their posture and build, and their technique. For the rest, it appeared to be the exercise equivalent of lip service.

Bad storms last night, it seems, but the sun is out this morning. I’ve got three books and the Times, and the surf awaits.

Scenes from Cape May:

© Alan Weiss 2009. All rights reserved.