This spring, my girlfriend Val and I ventured over to tiptoe past the “tulip troopers” who were representing from all over the world, as usual, and thankfully! Tulips were blooming, and passersby turned into a newly minted gaggle of gal pals from Ohio. They were sailing by for happy hour and said “hi.” We said, “hi,” too. We were all Boatwerks virgins, so I went straight to the top and summoned Chris, the General Manager to guide me in ordering. (Even though I may not look like it, I am highly coachable.)
He steered us to the new seafood entrees. I zeroed in on the seafood chowder— tout suite! Was it because I was harkening back to the days of Great Lakes Shipping Company in Grand Rapids? Or because I just spoke to the head bartender from the same place? I threw caution to the wind and Val followed suit. Every taste was a treat. Phenomenal. Not to be shared. Claim your own serving!
Next up to bat was Val’s choice, a warm cheesy dish served hot in a black spider pan like my Danish grandmother restauranteur. Yes sir, they did that right, too!
Val likes to follow rules so she went for Fish Tacos. Was it because it was Tuesday, I wondered? She can’t be shoved around, so I stopped begging her to get the steak. I had laid eyes on the plate-covering, succulent steak across the hall. I had to get a closer look, so I did. The nice couple insisted I dunk my finger in the silver cup housing the cherry-infused steak sauce and I was glad I did. (Do they sell that separately? Inquiring minds!)…
