MY MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND WAS ONLY SLIGHTLY MEMORABLE

I generally don't care much for long holiday weekends.  Don't get me wrong- I love weekends, and I like some holidays, but these long weekends can be exhausting, draining, and very dangerous.  I write dangerous because of the countless number of idiots on the road, and (accordingly) the number of DUI checkpoints all throughout parts of Fairfield County.
And so it would be a Memorial Day weekend that was only intermittently pleasant (the weather on Saturday certainly didn't help).  If it's one thing I did do, however, it was eat and drink...a lot.
The festivities started with an impromptu dinner of sorts on Friday night at Mancuso's in Fairfield.  While my pork tenderloin smothered in broccoli rabe (and I mean smothered!) was decent, the entire experience was indicative of what's become of local "Italian" restaurants.  They remain Italian in name and design only, but the dishes are too heavy and oily to truly be considered authentic. Don't get me wrong, the entree was tasty, but I left Mancuso's feeling like I had just eaten at a mediocre wedding.  At least there wasn't a DJ encouraging everyone to dance to the Electric Slide.  And speaking of music, the bizarre 80s R&B mix that was playing at Mancuso's was about as Italian as a trip to Sbarro's.
On Saturday afternoon I stopped by Paradise Pizza in Stratford (I hesitate to consider Stratford part of the CT Gold Coast, but I was in the area).  When I had told people that I had never once sampled their supposedly famous pizza, I was met by gasps of shock.  So on a rainy afternoon, I bellied-up to the bar, ordered a pint and a small pizza. 
A large crowd was assembled to watch a soccer game, and the poor bartender (who was quite friendly and lovely) was frantically trying to cater to the needs of every demanding patron.  I remained patient, but eager to try the pizza.  When it finally did arrive (topped with spinach and black olives), I was disappointed to see that it was Greek pizza (nobody told me that).  All in all, it was good pizza, but in keeping with the Greek style, a tad too doughy for my taste.
By Sunday afternoon I needed to skip town desperately.  I hopped on I-95, and was pleasantly surprised that there was minimal traffic as I headed north.  I essentially left the geographic area referred to as "The Gold Coast" and went way into the outer-reaches of the sometimes enjoyable and often mellow Connecticut Shoreline.  It was there that I stopped at one of my favorite hideouts, Water's Edge in Westbrook.  This enormous and sprawling seaside resort is probably the finest of its sort in Connecticut. 
It was a rather mellow there Sunday afternoon, though the crew was hard at work setting up for a beachfront wedding that was to happen in a few hours.  The outdoor bar was set to open in less than twenty-four hours, but I took my drink from the indoor bar and sat outside.  The sun finally started to come out, and the weather warmed up a bit.  For a moment, I felt like I was on an actual vacation.  And I suppose that's one of the joys of Water's Edge: it's a classic resort bustling with weddings, bachelorette parties and various other activities, nestled in an otherwise low-key and quiet coastal town.  My only complaint about Water's Edge? The nearly hour drive for me to get there.  If it were only even twenty minutes closer, it would warrant far more regular visits. 
I concluded the long weekend at a rather peculiar establishment: Ruby Tuesday's at the Trumbull Mall.  Foodie and barfly purists alike shun such chain establishments, this I know.  But, frankly, I don't care.  The drinks were cheap (a mere $5.00 for a rather large mojito), the atmosphere laid back, and the service was quite good.  And though I didn't eat there, the menu looked pretty good (and the surf and turf the old-timer sitting across from me at the bar was inhaling looked very tasty).
Perhaps most important was the fact that- on Memorial Day- Ruby Tuesday's was open for business.  If Memorial Day is in fact one of the more authentically American holidays, then I suppose that I am glad I spent it at a venerable nationwide chain that serves hamburgers and fries, grilled sirloin and lobster tails, cheesecake and lemonade.

Tis the Season for Outdoor Drinking & Dining

Most will tell you that Memorial Day weekend is the unofficial start to the summer and- despite the somewhat slightly cooler than normal temps predicted this weekend- people in Fairfield County will be grilling, drinking up a storm, and trying to avoid the plethora of DUI checkpoints in the area all weekend long.
We don't get much more than four or five months of great outdoor weather here along the Connecticut Gold Coast, so when we find ourselves in the midst of that weather, people really like to take part in outdoor drinking and dining.  Fair enough.  I myself like to do the same,  but as time seems to pass, I notice that the choices for what is available in the area seem a little lackluster.  It's one thing to have a restaurant that has a small outdoor dining area, but what good is it when you're overlooking the parking lot of a strip mall? Seaside (or around here, Soundside) drinking spots are what become all the rage May through September. 
Stamford's Crabshell has long been a favorite for folks down county, and it's certainly not a bad choice.  It's not a great choice either.  Crabshell's waterfront location, slightly removed from the hustle and bustle of downtown Stamford is top-notch.  And sitting outside and enjoying  a few cold ones on a nice summer afternoon/evening seems picturesque.  The problem with the Crabshell is the problem with it's clientele, and much of Stamford in general: it's just trying too damn hard.  Stamford is a great city in Southwestern Fairfield County.  It's not, however, Westchester County or Manhattan.  The more advanced and developed Stamford becomes, the more cluttered its watering-holes and restaurants become with ten-cent millionaires and wannabes.
A little further up the road in Westport is Splash, a bar and restaurant located at the pristine Inn at Longshore.  This is a spot that truly epitomizes Gold Coast elegance and attitude, which isn't necessarily a good thing. And if Stamford finds itself cluttered with ten-cent millionaires, than Westport has quarter-millionaires.  They're out in full-force at Splash, along with desperate cougars and older men tying to throw some of their money around to pick up  twenty-something females plagued with low self-esteem and daddy issues.  Like that twenty-something female, Splash is fun to look at for a day or two, but sooner or later it will start to really annoy you.  I'm leery these days of restaurants and bars that boast they are part of a group of restaurants.  Such is the case with Splash, which is apparently part of the DeCaro Restaurant Group, who also own Baang, a forty-something meat-market pick-up joint in Greenwich. What happened to the good ol' days when people owned one restaurant and put everything they could into it? Nowadays, it's all about bragging about one's portfolio of places.
And then there's the venerable Captain's Cove in the Black Rock section of Bridgeport.  While it's great for the sheer entertainment of people watching (I'm convinced that the DJ still plays the "Electric Slide" on Sunday nights and it packs the dancefloor), Captain's Cove is pretty much local seaside drinking at it's grittiest, and dirtiest.  I've blogged before about the collection of spare-parts that are easily found in Black Rock, and they are out in full force at Captain's Cove on Sundays in the summer.  Fortunately, so are the cops.
I won't even write about Stonebridge in Milford as it's not quite Gold Coast, and it's success is due largely to the fact that it's the safe bet for residents of The Valley to go drink when they want something waterfront and upscale (and Stonebridge isn't quite either of those).
There are countless other options I neglected to mention, from the upscale Delamar in Greenwich, to the mediocre Outrigger's in Stratford; but unfortunately, with all of the aforementioned choices, there isn't one that stands out as being original and thoroughly enjoyable.
Personally, when I feel the urge for a little seaside libation, I do enjoy The Boatyard, located around the back of Smokey Joe's Ribs on the Stamford/Darien line.  It's not quite seaside (there's a creek running along the back, with an outdoor patio), but the atmosphere is more laid back, and even a little Cape Cod-esque.  It's a far cry from the craziness of any of the other places I've listed, but if what you want is something a little more low-key, then Boatyard may be worth trying. 

Cafe Madrid (Probably Should Have Been Named Cafe Quito)

So after leaving the delicious and memorable meal at Basso, we staggered across the parking lot of the strip mall, and adjacent to the Rite Aid were flashing fluorescent lights circled around the sign that read "Cafe Madrid".   It looked as though it was brand new, and I was impressed to see some outdoor dining set-up (though looking out at people walking in and out of Rite Aid clutching contraceptives, diapers and laxatives maybe isn't that appealing).
Walking into Cafe Madrid, I was immediately impressed with the decor and vibe. It's obvious that much thought went into the design of the place, and whoever did design it really was trying to go for an authentic-looking tapas bar.  The wine list was good and affordable, consisting largely of Spanish and South American varietals (a few of which I had never even heard of).  The drink they poured the lovely lady accompanying me was incredibly strong and got her rather tipsy (good for me).  And by the time we left,  I found myself with a bit of a buzz (not good for, considering the twenty minute ride home that was awaiting me).
I decided to return to Cafe Madrid the following week to sample the food and see if everything was as good as it looked.  Now I generally have a problem with Tapas Bars, and I'm tired of seeing them pop up all over the place.  Back in the early part of the 2000's, the craze was strip-mall sushi, and even the most tried and true family-friendly Chinese restaurants (you know, places with names like Peking Garden #4) were adding sushi bars and sushi chefs.  For the most part, the sushi at these places was nothing special.  Such seems to be the case now with Tapas Bars, as they are spreading like wildfire, and just about any and every slightly ethnic eatery- even ones next to a Radio Shack or Rent-A-Center- likes to brag about their Tapas.
Really, Tapas in general leave me unsatisfied if I'm in the mood for a meal.  If I wan't a snack or an appetizer it's fine, but my appetite needs a real meal nine out of ten times. 
So when eating at Cafe Madrid, I opted for the Pollo Inferno, a spicy chicken breast smothered in hot peppers, onions and in a white wine sauce.  It was good for $14.95, though nothing that I couldn't have made at home.  And it's nothing that I couldn't have ordered down the road at any run-of-the-mill gritty Central or South American restaurant not trying to be a Tapas Bar for $8.95.  Speaking of South American, in talking with the very friendly and outgoing bartender at Cafe Madrid, I learned that the restaurant is about as Spanish as I am.  Based on the names and some of the menu items, I deduced that Cafe Madrid is Ecuadorian-owned.  I see nothing wrong with that, as I quite like Ecuadorian cuisine.  In fact, I would have much rather the place be an outright and honest Ecuadorian restaurant, and not try to pass itself as a Tapas Bar.  But, again, it's all about marketing and $$$$, and the average unknowing Gold Coast customer gets all excited and aroused when they hear the word "Tapas"; so I can't say I blame them for at least trying.
I'll definitely go back to Cafe Madrid at some point this summer.  It's a mellow, laid back sort of place, and the vibe is quite nice (indicative of the outgoing and kind people behind the bar).  And while I may not order a meal there, it's definitely worth going for a few drinks and a chance to unwind.  And if nothing else, I can sit outside and watch the locals go in and out of Rite Aid. 

Bring Your Own Bottle (and appetite) to Basso in Norwalk

A few weeks back it was recommended that I check out a little but fairly upscale hole in the wall in Norwalk called Basso.  As I'm quite fond of holes in the wall, and of Norwalk dining, I figured it was worth a shot. 
Norwalk nightlife and dining has always fascinated me for the simple fact that there is so much to choose from, and that there seems to be a decent, undiscovered bar or eatery on every corner of the city.  It's not necessarily a big city, but it's incredibly diverse, and there's a little something for everyone.  It's also a city that is smack dab in the middle of the CT Gold Coast, so it's easy enough to get to whether you live in Fairfeld or Greenwich.
The idea of Basso also appealed to me because it was in a quiet neighborhood on the Norwalk/New Canaan line, far enough from the hustle and bustle of the amateurs down at the Black Bear in South Norwalk or the wannabes at SoNo's Ginger Man. Basso also excited me because it's a BYOB restaurant.  That meant that I didn't have to pay through the nose for a crappy glass or bottle of Barefoot or CK Mondavi.  I instead brought a very nice bottle of Pinot Noir I had received as a birthday gift a few days prior and eagerly awaited what I would put it with.
I used Basso's website to make a reservation (which was strongly encouraged), and it was easy enough.  An hour after making the online reservation, I received a phonecall from the owner himself, confirming that I still wanted my 8:00 pm table for two, and asking if I had ever been to Basso before.  When I told him no, he proceeded to ramble on and on about what a wonderful experience I was in for.
Well, it certainly started off on the right note when we were greeted at the door of the small establishment (Basso is a nice place, but small and noisy) by a stunningly attractive hostess.  Blessed with what appeared to be an wonderful mix of Asian and Eastern-European genes, and a figure that kept me distracted from the menu, I was pleased with my first few moments at Basso.  Oh, and she was friendly too. 
I'll cut to the chase now.  The food was fantastic; by no means inexpensive, but delicious.  The lovely female who I was with that night is an incredibly picky eater (when she chooses to eat at all), and even she was impressed with Basso.  Wow.  We split a grilled calamari appetizer which was fresh, tangy and tasty.  From there, she had the seafood special- Grouper in some sort of creamy sauce with plantains- and I had the steak, a delicious and large portion of sirloin that was cooked to perfection.
There wasn't much room for dessert, but the homemade coconut gelato was hard to pass-up, and I'm glad we didn't.
Basso's owner and chef, Renato Donzelli, is from Italy, and many of the items on the menu are clearly Italian; but this doesn't mean that Basso should be classified as an Italian restaurant.  In fact, the majority of the menu items have influences from all around the Mediterranean peninsula, as well as parts of South and Central America.  That means that you can order the eggplant parm if you'd like (which I've heard is outstanding), or get some chorizo or boquerones off of the tapas menu.  That's what's enjoyable about a place like Basso- it's menu isn't ridiculously large and it doesn't require three hours to read, but it's also a menu that defies classification.  More importantly, it's a far cry from the run-of-the-mill quasi-upscale burger bar and pizza cafes that seem to be popping up everywhere these days.  Basso is unique, somewhat upscale, but quite welcoming.
We had eaten so much that we needed to walk off the meal and wine.  Lo and behold, behind Basso was a strip mall, with a Spanish restaurant that had just opened.  I saw no harm in stumbling across the parking lot for an after dinner drink or two. 
More on that tomorrow. 

Why the Hell am I in Black Rock? Part One

Folks who live in Williamsburg, Brooklyn will never tell you they live in Brooklyn; they simply say that they live in Williamsburg.  The same can pretty much be said for the Black Rock section of Bridgeport.  People will gladly tell you they live in Black Rock and- as it sits near the water, and is filled with nightlife, dining and artsy type of things- they expect the average person to ignore the fact that they live in Bridgeport.
Don't get me wrong, Black Rock isn't entirely a terrible place, and it does have a few redeeming qualities.  But there's no disguising the fact that it's part of Bridgeport, a city that could be quite lovely, but resembles a Third World country or Newark.
A few weeks back a friend of mine insisted that we meet her for drinks at Brennan's Shebeen, an Irish Pub & Restaurant on the outskirts of Black Rock (meaning, the section of Fairfield Avenue right before it gets real sketchy).  I went begrudgingly, but my friend insisted, as she told me that her boyfriend's band was playing there that night, and that they were "really awesome".  I had nothing else going on, so I figured I'd give it a try.
Once upon a time, I quite liked Black Rock and all the bars it had to offer.  The drinks were cheap, the people entertaining, and it had just the right amount of sketchiness.  Of course, I was 23 years old then, and my tastes have changed.
The issue with a place like Brennan's Shebeen (which is quite nice inside), and all of the other spots in Black Rock these days, is it's like going to the Fairfield County barfly's equivalent of a baseball old-timers game.  Each and every bar is filled with the same people who have been trolling the scene for at least a decade or two, and it's quite depressing.  The only thing that has changed is that they are fatter, drunker, have a few more tattoos, and have switched from weed to coke or crystal meth. 
On this particular night when I was at "The Shebeen" (as its been dubbed), I walked in, and instantly recognized ten people who I hadn't seen in years, and wished at least another ten years would go by before seeing them again, 
For starters, I saw a guy I went to high school with who was accompanied by his new bride.  They were going on and on about how living and Black Rock is sooooo great, and how they get to walk to all these wonderful bars and restaurants. 
Then I saw a girl I met offline after chatting in an AOL chatroom back in '01 (remember those days?).  She ignored me at the Shebeen, which was just as well.  She looked lovely back in '01 (I think she was all of 16), but the last twelve years haven't been so kind to her, and she might want to consider not slugging down so much Guiness as she was doing at the Shebeen.
The real piece de resistance, though, was a guy who I have known for a few years now.  I had heard that he and his wife have been having problems of late, and he wasn't handling it so well.  Now if he weren't a boring wallflower who refused to enjoy tying one on, then I'd try to take him out for a few drinks.  Sure enough, he was at the Shebeen...by himself, drinking a cranberry juice and club soda, and eating wings. 
When the music started playing (which was an awful mix of mid to late-90s rock...think Live, Seven Mary Three, Blink 182, etc), my non-drinking acquaintance would occasional bop his head back and forth. 
I lasted all of an hour that night at Brennan's Shebeen, and here is a typical case of a bar being quite nice (there's a fire place, and the environment is very cozy, drinks are stiff), but being plagued by the fact that it's in a mediocre area with a downright awful crowd.  So why- you ask- do I choose to focus on Brennan's Shebeen as the inaugural post of this blog? It is hardly, after all, typical of CT Gold Coast nightlife.  Well, it's because here is a place that could be quite nice.  The bartenders are friendly, I've heard the food is quite good, and they get a good turnout on weekends for people who wish to watch soccer games (you know, now that every average twenty and thirtysomething Fairfield County idiot has an AC Milan or Manchester United jersey)
I left the Shebeen that night before my friend and her boyfriend even showed.  She texted me, asking me why I left.  To that, I replied, "the crowd was pretty bad...the band was even worse".  She then reminded me that the members of the band were her boyfriend's good friends.  I suggested that he consider getting some new ones.