Vanilla Session, tales from the Watt.

"The sweet is never as sweet without the sour." -Edmond Ventura, Vanilla Sky
Still a joyride...a foamy burst ending one of the few of the night. 
Holidays and 66th, 10/24/2019

   This time of year, the colors tend to fade as fast as they explode. It ain't much, and if you don't catch the glimpse, or you don't jump the ride, or you don't get to the bar early, it'll close and be done in a gasp. The shoulder season is finishing up. We have one more surf (weather permitting) after this post. Last couple sessions have been pretty vanilla. Water in the low 60's, dribbling in thigh high or less swell with absolutely no power. If I caught 'em, their rides were short. And the sessions were short as well. With the midweek workday, by the time we crossed the shoreline we had less than 45 minutes of water-time. Like last week, it was all about timing and getting in position fast...not my forte. There was a slight sandbar out there, and then it dropped off again just before the shoreline. The sets would jack a bit as they hit the sandbar and then die out. If I wasn't on 'em immediately, I'd miss. We're talking minimal surf; caught some, and missed some. It was a very vanilla session.
   Nothing helps bland like a little local excitement. The evenings meal stop was a true locals joint and one which the Crew last visited in 2013, the Original Crabcake Factory. Taking up the bottom floor of a condo complex, and cornering 120th and Coastal Highway, open concept garage style doors led directly from a small balcony dining deck to the bar. A large, theater style screen took up the back wall of the bar with several flatscreens surrounding. A pretty good number of taps lined the far corner wall.

In LWatt's opinion our barkeep was already at a disadvantage. He was a Packer fan. Regardless, he quickly had Target and I our beers, and LWatt a cider. The only faux pas was, with the exception of Target's Stella, service in plastic cups. Always a major concern with the Crew...and in this case, no sand or dirt floors. And, if you can serve one type, you should be able to serve all in glass. The menu was loaded with plenty of choices. We studied the options and chose the BBQ Pub Wings, the Blackened Shrimp Skewers, and the Crab Quesadillas. We were excited about the entire foray. A mild evening, door open to the beach air, a locals bar decked for Halloween, Thursday Night Football, and we were ready for a savory meal. At this point it was like watching the sets roll in, paddling into position, seeing the waves rise and...they just wither away.

That was tonight's pub grub. The wings were FRIED! No bueno. And instead of tossing them, they just squirted BBQ sauce on 'em. The skewers came out cold. The quesadillas were the best of the three. Crispy, and filled with crab and cheese, they were fairly appetizing. However, they too were only luke-warm. Like the waves earlier in the evening, the meal built up our hopes only to disappoint in the end. The local vibe was enhanced with a good selection of classic rock which helped abate the "blah" vanilla chow. But it was the tab that really threw us. Prices that exceeded the taste was always a burden we refused to find acceptable. This was no exception. The Redskins were playing, and the place seemed to be a Redskins bar, as it filled with fans. As a fan myself, this was always a plus for me. Still, the Redskins were on their way to losing...again. Not sure I could count that as a poor reflection, but it didn't help either. As our critique pertained to the Journey, when it came to return engagements we have often said "only time will tell." As to Thursday night's Crabcake Factory experience, only time will heal. No worries, this is why we do what we do. The bland only makes the stoke brighter. Next!

THE RATINGS-
BBQ Pub Wings: C-
Blackened Shrimp Skewers: C-
Crab Quesadillas: B-
Beer: C+
Atmosphere: B
Value: C-
Overall Score = 2.21

Diminishing Returns, tales from the Watt.

"Mushburger describes a wave that is full of water and is mushy. This is one of my own words that caught on. It came about one day after a couple of friends and I had lunch at Mac’s Coffee Break in Dana Point. We had eaten Mac’s Hamburgers. Then we went to San Onofre to check the surf and it was very mushy. Still feeling the effects of being full from the burgers, I commented that it was 'burgering' out there. My friend said, 'What are you talking about?' And I said the waves were like big 'mushburgers.' It caught on."    -Corky Carroll
47th Street mushburgers all evening long, 10/15/2019.

   The sun dropped before 6:30 p.m. Hurricane Season had tapered off. Leaves had turned and littered the ground. The beach...was empty. Northeast windblown chop made up most of the surf conditions, BUT, they had potential and I was able to squeeze a ride out here and there. It had been awhile since I had any memorable rides. And really the other evening was no exception. However, despite the closing mushburgers, I was stoked to be able to juice a few even if they were short.  And sweet, after the last couple weeks every ride was like candy, and I wanted another piece. The air has been getting noticeably colder, especially at night, which causes the water to cool, which calms the storms, which leaves small surf. I was now back in a full suit, which is never welcome. Although their wait was short, both LWatt and Target could attest to the chill on the beach as they were both layered in long sleeves and jackets. It's been all about the law of diminishing returns. Pile on with Daylight Standard Time, and that leaves two more sessions before our weekly surf sessions come to an end. While we moved towards the close of another beach season, our Journey to find the next best dive would continue. Nightfall came fast, and I had no choice but to latch on to that next header as we turned in.

Always good for a couple.

    West Ocean City's the Shark on the Harbor was the home of our post surf spot for dinner. The Shark was on the fancier end of the spectrum of local watering holes, and located in an elevated building with a hell of a view of the commercial harbor. The lounge was busy, but not completely full and we managed to snap up three seats at the far corner of the oval bar. A good compliment of beer choices of which Mike, our bartender, was well educated and ready with the samples. He was able to quickly set Target and I up with a couple of beers and LWatt with a Nutty Irishman coffee to take the chill off. Early on we were looking forward to this review, and the Shark did not disappoint. Known for bites from land and sea with a southern, Eastern Shore flair and changing their menu often, we dug right in and ordered the Crew's version of "surf 'n turf."

Our mix included their exclusive Cheesesteak Biscuits, the Signature Burger, and a half pound of Jumbo Gulf Steamed Shrimp. I will start by saying this was one of the best meals we've come upon in a while. Every dish was served hot and on a warm plate...that goes a long way! The steak biscuits...tender, thin sliced angus beef with vidalia onions, horseradish-pimento cheese, on smoked cheddar biscuits were fantastic. The burger, more angus with smoked cheddar cheese, "shark sauce,"and bacon jam on a maple brioche bun was cooked perfectly and juicy.

To round out with the "surf" portion, the shrimp came out wrapped in a steamer net, sitting in a delicious seafood broth with crusty bread for dipping. The burger and shrimp were among the best we've come around in these parts. Plenty of flat-screens adorned the perimeter for catching up on the latest in sports. The music was fair, and loud enough to hear without being distracting. And, although it took some time to come out, for the quality of food we received the bill was not too unreasonable. A night of tolerable surf coupled with an excellent meal helped ease the diminishing conditions that are now upon us. The Shark had definitively secured it's worth for a return visit on the Journey's path. Onward!

THE RATINGS-

Cheesesteak Biscuits: A-

Signature Angus Burger: A-

Jumbo Gulf Shrimp: A-

Beer: B+

Atmosphere: B

Value: B-

Overall Score = 3.38

She's A Devil, tales from the Watt.

"Perhaps it's the nature of the human condition to live in the present- there's little point in dwelling in the past or worrying about a future beyond our control. But we should all understand that there's a storm coming.
And we've been warned."                                            -David Healey, Great Storms of the Chesapeake
Melissa sinks her teeth into the OC's shore. 47th Street's busted break, 10/10/2019.

   A cold front with strong winds and light rain began ensnaring our coast. Due to their direction...an obvious Nor'easter in transit. Cold air from Canada intersected with the warm air of the Atlantic bringing on the chaos. As an eye formed, the system became subtropical becoming the next named storm, Melissa.  These storms do not bode well for us. Driving rain, high winds, and high tides usually lead to coastal flooding, and this system was no exception. Downtown Ocean City and the inlet parking lot was flooded. Super high tides flowed over bulkheads flooding neighborhood streets. Our piece of the Right Coast was taking a beating. Double overhead crushers threw spray up another three feet as Melissa mauled the shore; breakwash reaching all the way up to the dunes and creeping up their sides viciously eroding them like a sand-devil, making a hell outta our beach. I watched another local surfer, doned in a wet suit, short board under arm, walk up and watch the melee for about fifteen minutes before doing an about face and heading back. No rides today...for anyone.

You're invited to join the procession, there is someone I'd like you to meet
She looks like she might be for hire, but you won't find her out in the street

-She's A Devil, Bachman Turner Overdrive

Melissa forms...10/10-11/2019

   Meanwhile, back on the main drag, the Endless Summer Cruisin' was fired up. High winds did nothing to stop our annual fall parade of hot rods, muscle cars, and classic rides roaming the strips, lots, and side streets of town turning the OC into a live version of American Graffiti. Hell on Wheels wherever your eyes stopped...

"You're gonna be hangin' on for mercy when I get this
 sucker rollin'."    -Bob Falfa, American Graffiti

 The evening lead us to Berlin, Md. and Burn Wood Fired Pizza  on Old Ocean City Boulevard. If you're going to crisp up a pizza crust fast, you need an oven that's hot as hell. True to our session's essence, Burn led us to the grail of wood fired ovens. At least if you're a surf Crew. No gas or electric here. Adorned in surf graffiti and skateboards and a bit cavernous, the place had more the feel of a beach bum's hangout replete with a kitchen and bar, than a restaurant. Greeted by our crusty surfer of a barkeep, Target and I had a couple of craft drafts in front of us on the jump complete with a brief synopsis of our barkeep's experience with the brews.

LWatt had been eyeing the house made Meatballs with homemade tomato sauce the moment we got the menus. We followed up with a large Bacon and Chicken Pizza. Now I would say that the beers were pretty tasty, but Target had a good point in that the glasses were not cold. In case it had never been mentioned before, we like our beer ice cold. The meatballs were very good...excellent seasoning and well cooked, but there were only two for we three.

 The pizza had a good char on the crust, but could have been crisped up a tad more. The ingredients were well cooked, however the sauce could have been thicker. It kinda of dampened the toppings to the point of dripping here and there. Regardless, the pie had a good taste as the flavors melded well together. The music made it. Classic 70s and 80s tunes serenaded us the entire meal. Nothin' better than downing a meal to AC/DC's Highway to Hell. Considering only two ordered plates, our tab surprised us some. Seemed like the beach wasn't the only thing eroding this trip. However, a return engagement would not be out of the question, nor in the near future. More places are in need of our critical review. The Journey waits for no one and stops for no one...not even the Devil herself.

THE RATINGS-

House Meatballs: B+

Pizza: B

Beer: B

Atmosphere: B-

Value: C
Overall Score = 2.80

No Soul, tales from the Watt.

Speeding towards a convergence in the Atlantic. With counterclockwise rotation, we had us some serious Nor'east swell. 9/29 - 10/2/2019 

   We got there earlier than usual, about 6pm. Still, we were later than we had told Target. He made sure we understood that. I believe his main concern was that he'd already been up to scan the surf conditions and knew the coming experience would be both limited and lacking. It was our first October sesh. Three storms in the Atlantic Basin had been churning up the sandbar around Holidays on 66th Street. Jerry and Karen had come up from their charge through the Greater Antilles and across Bermuda heading north, and Lorenzo was sweeping across the center, over the Azores, on it's way to Ireland. So, post weather report, and half listening to Target's warning, I headed across the dune to the beach. Sizing up the waves as I walked to the surf''s edge I thought, "Hey, mid-tide, looks like something ride-able. This ain't so bad." But, as I waded in, the strong southerly current, rolling backwash, and chest to head, four to five set chop began pounding second thoughts through my head...and the rest of my body. I found a rip and made it out into the line-up soon enough, however trying to hold position took some energy and before I knew it I was three blocks down. A near miss frontside left me in the wash again only to be rolled into shore; fodder for Target's amusement. "There's a reason no one else is out." Where did I hear that? Somewhere just over the duneline, I suppose. The surf seemed angry, disoriented, and uncooperative. It had no soul. And I didn't have the heart this evening, to fight it. I should've listened. Made it an early night as we cleaned up and got back on the road, this time cutting through an alley and turning left, southbound down Coastal Highway.

Strokin' into the rock before the roll. Holidays finisher, 10/2/2019.

   Turning off a near deserted, main thoroughfare, we were mildly surprised to find the lounge at Red Red Wine Bar on 48th and Oceanside filled to near capacity, with a few patrons at the surrounding tables. No wonder, all three of the flatscreens surrounded the bar. No barkeep this round, we had us a George. A baritone voiced, dreadlocked waiter who kinda knew what was on special, and sorta had somewhat limited knowledge as to the appetizer and entree offerings. But, he was spot on with service, checking in on us from time to time (me thinks he had one other table besides us) and bringing our drinks. The craft brew selection was limited, but eclectic. Served in cold glass...not iced...but cold.

 Our order included the George recommended Cuban Panini, and the "lemme check with the kitchen" City Dock Seafood Pizza. The Pizza was pretty good, although small. It consisted of  a white scampi sauce with  limited garlic shrimp and crab, and plenty of parm and mozzarella cheese. The Cuban wasn't bad either with ham, savory pulled pork, and a Dijon mustard spread. Served with a pasta salad and shaved cheddar, the portions showed a pattern of being limited. Not a big place, as it shared space with the next door Dry 85. The music was fair Pop, but a bit loud. Our tab was not bad, but we seemed to do do everything in twos this go-round. Food and service were good. Atmosphere was fair. But the place lacked personality. Like the earlier surf, it had no soul. Would our Journey bring us to a return call? Not likely. This place just wasn't us. Until next time...

THE RATINGS-

City Dock Pizza: B

Cuban Panini: B-

Beer: B-

Atmosphere: C+

Value: C+
Overall Score = 2.60