Borrowed from the soon to be defunct Mustang Highways blog:
Here is the text of that early jaunt out of Laurel, across The Bridge, and a pleasant landing in the “Land of Pleasant Living” — and living pleasantly is what we traveler’s do at Hemingway’s:
“My parents, romantics well into their 70’s (and dead early in their 80’s) drove the hour to 90 minutes out of Rockville to dine here. I thought I’d honor that tradition with Anne, or perhaps start there for the occasional strong drink, dining equal to it, and a bill to match (though not so hard on the wallet). The strong drink: the standard 6-oz. Martini mixed with “bar rail” vodka and Rossi Vermouth and decorated with three fat olives on the toothpick. If that doesn’t ease you into the sunset, nothing will. The fine dining: Caesar salads, grilled Tuna steak, sea scallops, crème brulee cheesecake, and coffee. Better than merely “it was all good,” the kitchen puts its own spin on the standards, shaving the Romano on the salad, for example, adding visual delight to it and texture and continuing through to the drizzled glaze around dessert.”
Beware the martini.
I recall it — forget about me having two without a room for the night — as a generous pour served with two big green olives.*
Anne’s married (not to me).
I’m free . . . suppose I could do with another hand at the wheel these days (so I can drink that martini), but whether alone or not, a silver Mustang in good condition (still is) makes for an enjoyable drive.
So I should start driving again.
I could spend the winter not only archiving old material — I’d say about a thousand posts are awaiting that in relation to abandoned blogs — but digging through old slides and scanning them.
For this post and for travel: Hemingway’s Restaurant on Kent Island remains a pretty good deal, not that I’m ready to revisit old haunts: I want somebody in the “shotgun seat” — company’s a good thing — and new haunts.