Tavern 23 – January 2020 (dt)
6.45 – 7.2, 7, 7, 6.9, 6.5, 6, 6, 5
Pumped in Windham
A cold mid-January drive led to Windham’s Tavern 23, a recent
transformation from its past incarnation as Rock’n Mexicana and
before that Trails End and before that Windham Arms. Trivia: DP8
dined here when it was Mexicana, and the Quinns were the subs,
the very first subs in DP8 history, a long time ago, January
2012.
Tavern 23 touts American comfort food. Perhaps this is 2020
American comfort food, or Windham ski town comfort food but not
our grandparents’ comfort food. ‘Tis for the better, I think.
Choices this evening:
With an exception or
two, we were taken aback by the overwhelming average-ness of
food, bordering on semi-mediocrity. Someone commented that it was
like an AT&T commercial: everything was just OK. A couple of
us thought the portions were small, especially for the price. The
lobster mac-n-cheese suffered in comparison by the same choice at
Catskill’s New York Restaurant. A couple servings came out
cold, with Deb K having to send hers back, mostly likely
re-nuked. The diced lobster, the ones found, were overcooked. The
chicken piece was one of the toughest pieces ever. Maybe it was a
fussy night. Or not.
Fortunately the other courses were better.
Salad/app:
Both deemed very good
but a tad expensive.
And some thought an included small house
salad, considering entrée prices, would not have been out of the
question.
Cream of asparagus soup, with a spear of asparagus and three
croutons, with a thick cream soup was deemed very good by Don and
Deb K.
Two wire baskets of Italian bread slices and crisp seeded
crackers accompanied three panel ramekin of hummus spread, herbed
butter, and olive oil was a satisfying nibbler.
The drinks course was a bit truncated, with two beer drinkers,
two wine drinkers, and three or four non-alcholic
drinkers/dieters. Even wine by the glass was a dollar or two
higher than usual in our travels.
The dessert course of four was one of those narrated affairs. The
only taker was Don with the bourbon pecan pie. Filling out the
list were two coffees, a white Sambuca, and a Bailey’s Cream.
Service by Dana was, perhaps, the highlight of the evening. She
was appropriately everywhere, assertively taking orders and
checking back on our satisfaction, friendly, positive, handled
Deb’s cold mac-n-cheese with skill.
Ambiance is cold weather comfortable. A fire pit greets arrivals
and we might have considered sitting around it with the 65
degrees the weekend before. Fifty degrees cooler and a brisk wind
snuffed out those thoughts this evening.
Little had changed since Mexicana days. Large, faux-paneled
windows, about 4’ x 8’, three on the east wall and six on the
south wall, make for a grandly open feel, probably even more
dramatic during daylight. A dark wainscoting was new, topped by a
burgundy wall paint. Soundproofing-tile ceilings muffled some of
the noise. Lighting came from recessed lighting, assisted by
regularly spaced lampshade sconces.
A hefty dry mortar stone fireplace with
gas flame pleasingly dominates the room and invited most of us to
stand in front of it for a few seconds. Thirty feet of bar lined
the right hand side of entry with fifteen stools. High and low
top tables of two and four intersperse the floor. A four foot
table was combined with a five foot table for us, a tad long,
with four on the banquette and four looking opposite, looking at
the wall.
General noise was a little loud, with a
nondescript background PA music not serving much purpose. It was
loud enough that the ends did not talk to each other unless an
effort was made. (A shorter table with ends occupied might have
made a difference.)
The chairs were an expansive, cloth-cushioned, wood frames that
proved comfortable. Water glasses and a knife-fork set awaited,
and water carafes quickly filled water glasses.
The time span was about an hour,
forty-five—not rushed but certainly a little faster than
average, and dessert stretched that a little.
The final bill came to $90 per couple, a
number that fits into our lower average range. However,
considering $10 salads, $10 glasses of wine, of which there were
few, only one dessert, the price seemed a little expensive.
Still, Tavern 23 still felt like a comfortable place to come for
a burger and beer on a casual night.
Topics in the car and at the table covered the usual range:
Deb’s cookies business, Valentine’s Day approaching, a
wintery day after three weeks of moderate weather, last weekend’s
60 degree weather, no snow on the ground, house-flipping,
marathoning, merger of Adirondack school districts (Westport
& E’town), greyhounds, real work world (sorry, Julie),
early morning walks, travel plans, whereabouts of you other eight
(Monteverds, Adamses, Pisano & Burhouse, Mower &
Spohler), doings of our children (no grandchildren with K&K
gone), Facebook postings, Clem in Florida, a few colds
circulating but everyone mostly good, Teator trip to Egypt in
April, Karnes trip to Florida soon, Quinn trip later on Viking
Ocean, Notar trip to Florida for a few weeks soon, the view of
the valley from Point Lookout, upcoming Cairo-Durham Hall of
Fame, Bob Piano’s honor, church events, and a bunch more.
And then up popped (forgive the pun) one
of our most unexpected topics in DP8 history. Kriss, we apologize
but even you would have not have interrupted, perhaps in awe.
Erections. Yup. Enhancement. Pills. Suction pumps. Needles. That
elicited some masculine frowns. Vaginal supplements. Don’t ask.
All very productive and serious discussion. Mostly.
See ya in February.