As I write this, my girlfriend Cindy is flying out to the west coast for the holidays. She’s quite a cook and decided to board the plane with a leg of lamb. I wonder what that looked like going through security. I told her I know they have meat on the west coast, but she’s a real gourmande and lives in Vermont, home of fresh, organically raised, free-range everything. I’m sure this little critter was the most happy-go-lucky little lambkin ever, and probably even volunteered to be the main course out of sheer delight.
Cindy and I have sought out the best places to eat all over New England. One night we ended up in an amazing little restaurant someone had recommended up a side street in Brattleboro VT. We were on foot and were sure we were lost. We kept passing by this old (and we thought abandoned) railroad car on the side of the road, until we realized that it was our destination. We walked up two cement steps, opened the door, and there before us was a gorgeous dining car, all candlelight, silver, and white linen, and the chef in his open kitchen turning out exquisite French cuisine. Does anybody know if this restaurant is still there??? I don’t remember what it’s called.
If I know Cindy (and I have known Cindy since she walked into my religion class when we were 14 years old at the Academy of Our lady of Mercy, Lauralton Hall. As teenagers, we used to stay up past midnight, cook up a whole pound of spaghetti with butter and cheese, and consume every strand–while also devouring a movie.) that lamb she’s preparing for the lucky friends with whom she is staying will be delicious.
HLWT (Have lamb. Will travel.)
and stay tuned!