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Mar. 27th, 2004 11:11 pmSo, almost every day driving up and down the beach, I pass this bar/restaurant with the jaunty name of "Captain Kosomakos". It looks like a mid-class dive, on stilts, overlooking the Intracoastal. I've been thinking this place can't possibly be good, but tonight, in a fit of insanity, I decide to try it out. I mean, sometimes the dives have the best food. You never know, right?
First of all, I end up being the youngest person in there by a full decade. Not too surprising this time of year with the snowbirds, but still. I order the following: Ketal One martini, Manhattan clam chowder (I hate New England clam chowder with the same passion with which I simply adore Manhattan clam chowder), double fillet of flounder stuffed with crabmeat, and a Coors Lite.
The only thing that ended up the way I hoped was the Coors Lite.
The Manhattan wasn't bad, but from all the salt I assumed it was canned. "Oh, no," the bartender tells me. "He makes it fresh every day. Sometimes he spends three hours a day cooking his soups." The flounder was more tiny bones than meat, and the sauce...well, we'll not go there. The martini was not bad...for the thimble-size portion they served.
There was a live band. Lord, please save me. Overall, they really weren't bad...multi-instrumented -- the drummer moved from his drum-kit and played trombone on one song, and the guitarist/bassist switched to sax. The female vocalist wasn't bad either -- she could belt them out, and even maintained a tune for the duration of a song. But the music selection was definitely geared toward the audience. Patsy Cline's "Crazy", Springsteen's "I'm on Fire" -- but both as if the songs were recorded while the artists were zoned on Ludes. Don't even get me started on the Herb Freaking Albert. Not that there's anything wrong with that (I actually saw the guy perform when I was in 1st grade) but in a bar on the beach?
Just as I'm about to cut and run, I overhear the 50-something guy next to me talking about fishing. Now, that is a conversation I can get into. So I join in -- what kind of fish, where was it -- we bonded.
Then I mentioned that I had caught a few catfish today, and the following conversation occurred:
Him: They fight a lot, don't they?
Me: Yeah, they're fun, but I don't like eating them.
Him: Yeah, but if they're fun, what's the harm? You just toss 'em back.
Me: I agree!
Him: I ran into this guy who would catch them and kill them because he didn't like eating them.
Me: You're kidding!
Him: No! I couldn't believe it. I mean, they're fun to catch, aren't they? I've caught plenty of women at this bar I couldn't eat, but I don't go killing them, do I? Har, har har!
Me: Yeah, that would be bad. Bartender...check please.
Martini, soup, entree, beer: $20. That should say it all, right there.
First of all, I end up being the youngest person in there by a full decade. Not too surprising this time of year with the snowbirds, but still. I order the following: Ketal One martini, Manhattan clam chowder (I hate New England clam chowder with the same passion with which I simply adore Manhattan clam chowder), double fillet of flounder stuffed with crabmeat, and a Coors Lite.
The only thing that ended up the way I hoped was the Coors Lite.
The Manhattan wasn't bad, but from all the salt I assumed it was canned. "Oh, no," the bartender tells me. "He makes it fresh every day. Sometimes he spends three hours a day cooking his soups." The flounder was more tiny bones than meat, and the sauce...well, we'll not go there. The martini was not bad...for the thimble-size portion they served.
There was a live band. Lord, please save me. Overall, they really weren't bad...multi-instrumented -- the drummer moved from his drum-kit and played trombone on one song, and the guitarist/bassist switched to sax. The female vocalist wasn't bad either -- she could belt them out, and even maintained a tune for the duration of a song. But the music selection was definitely geared toward the audience. Patsy Cline's "Crazy", Springsteen's "I'm on Fire" -- but both as if the songs were recorded while the artists were zoned on Ludes. Don't even get me started on the Herb Freaking Albert. Not that there's anything wrong with that (I actually saw the guy perform when I was in 1st grade) but in a bar on the beach?
Just as I'm about to cut and run, I overhear the 50-something guy next to me talking about fishing. Now, that is a conversation I can get into. So I join in -- what kind of fish, where was it -- we bonded.
Then I mentioned that I had caught a few catfish today, and the following conversation occurred:
Him: They fight a lot, don't they?
Me: Yeah, they're fun, but I don't like eating them.
Him: Yeah, but if they're fun, what's the harm? You just toss 'em back.
Me: I agree!
Him: I ran into this guy who would catch them and kill them because he didn't like eating them.
Me: You're kidding!
Him: No! I couldn't believe it. I mean, they're fun to catch, aren't they? I've caught plenty of women at this bar I couldn't eat, but I don't go killing them, do I? Har, har har!
Me: Yeah, that would be bad. Bartender...check please.
Martini, soup, entree, beer: $20. That should say it all, right there.
