Yesterday my mother was released from the rehab section of the local nursing home and was able to return to her assisted living apartment. Hallelujah!!!! We moved her back into her lovely quiet studio apartment and sent her off to see all of her friends at lunch.
I assumed Banjo Man would be in a hurry to get back to work, which is why we’d taken two cars, but he asked me what I was doing for lunch.
Well, I was going to Tony’s Pizza across the street to sit in a back booth and eat a meatball sandwich in total peace and quiet. I needed to sit in a quiet place and let the dust settle a bit.
“How about lunch in Galilee? We’ll look at the ocean.”
Yes, Banjo Man! You’re on!
We felt like we were on vacation, so we attempted to take a selfie.
Lunch was at George’s, a popular restaurant in Galilee from the beginning of time. The food is acceptable and the view spectacular. You can’t beat the atmosphere.
Of course we had fish. So good! Banjo Man ordered chowder, which tasted of chicken broth instead of clam juice. Banjo Man liked it. I was mortified on behalf of all the tourists who would think that RI chowder would taste of chicken broth and not clams. I even nicely asked the waitress why they put chicken broth in their chowder and she said they didn’t. Hah!
You can’t fool someone whose New England ancestors have been making clam chowder since the 1700’s.
Have I ever told you that Benjamin Franklin was my great (times 8? 10?) uncle? He is not a blood relation, but a great uncle by marriage.
And I’ll bet his Nantucket sister-in-law never served him fish chowder made with chicken broth.