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