Monday, Monday

Sometimes it takes utter catastrophe for me to try someplace new. On Saturday, a blindingly gorgeous, sunny, 53º day, Helen and family plus me, motored down to Nantasket. A brill day for running around on the beach, collecting shells and then lunch at The Red Parrot.

It's where I always go.

I got all adventurous ONCE and tried some other beach side joint only to find a cockroach in my Caesar salad. The waitress asked if I wanted a replacement salad (no dear, you have small, carapaced livestock residing in your greens) and then, incredibly, she did not take my bug infested lunch off the bill.

 

So yeah, back to The Red Parrot for me.

I was utterly, magnificently bummed to find that, on this past Saturday, the joint was shut for repairs. Big frowns.

Helen and I padded down Nantasket Ave. to see if any other joints were open. We wanted a view of the glorious ocean and an insect free tasty lunch. Hull’s Kitchen, a place that I was interested in trying for the name alone, wasn’t open yet (they don't open until, I guess, the official beginning of Spring). We entered the next door, Daddy’s Beach Club thinking it looked like it might be a wee bit dodgy but NO!

One of their boasts:

'Daddy's Beach Club serves the best New Haven Style pizza on Nantasket Beach’

My parents always raved about the pizza in New Haven -- the home of my birth, where the folks met, where they both went to school -- Daddy at Yale and mother at New Haven Teacher’s College (now Southern Connecticut State University). Every time we visited New Haven we'd stop for pizza and it was def, always fab -- even 10 year old no-palate me could appreciate that.

So, Helen, John and I made an executive decision -- we had to order the 'za. Of course. The girls and John split a red sauce pie while Helen and I had white with artichoke hearts and spinach. Mein gott, it was heavenly!

Yea! Someplace new. If I wasn't such a damned creature of habit, I might've discovered this awesome pie a zillion years ago.

Feels bizarre that, today -- this morning, it’s snowing. Saturday was so toasty beautiful and tomorrow will be in the 50s again.

Late winter Monday -- quelle barbe.

Every other day, every other day,

Every other day of the week is fine, yeah

But whenever Monday comes, but whenever Monday comes

You can find me cryin' all of the time 

Monday Monday -- The Mamas and The Papas