The Cape Cod Experience

As long as you’re not snotty, you can enjoy dining on the Cape.  I’m down there at least once a month, sometimes twice, baling hay and picking cotton, and sometimes a man needs what to eat.  No rental, no house, no stove leads to dining out.

In Hyannis, The Egg and I, has a pleasant staff and is true to its name.  Dunk’s has two outposts in town, at least, and, barristas be damned, this is good, strong, fresh coffee.

More to the point are:

The Wicked Oyster, in Wellfleet, is by far the best lunch place around.  Terrific salads, eponymous dishes, juicy burgers, etc.  Kind of a stodgy crowd that seems full of itself–Can you blame ’em?  They did invent the wheel, right?–but the food compensates for the suffocating atmosphere.  A good bet is to eat at the bar where locals, who look like contractors with their molls, dine well after having jacked up prices on that must-do renovation.

Terra Luna, in Truro, has a very pleasant staff serving decent plates of local stuff like oysters and cod.  Why, for $140, you can enjoy a dinner of two app’s, two entrees, and two glasses of wine.  One entree was penne with some kind of cockamamie vodka tomato sauce that arrived to the table this side of room temperature.

In Provincetown, one finds Joe’s, which is a great bakery, with a lively clientele and a pierced, artfully decorated, skin-wise, staff whose aw-shucks demeanor contrasts well with their appearances.  We’re talkin’ great croissants.

One also has in P-town the latest branch of Ten Tables: Delicious food, first-rate, served haphazardly in a lovely, old house.  This is a good kitchen.

Pop-up: At Adrian’s, inside a funky motel, you’ve got Will Gilson helming. Folks, this is the best restaurant in the region.  Chef is from Garden in the Cellar, out of Cambridge, MA, and finesse is evident in the halibut, plating, and restraint.  Too bad it’s just a summer fling.


4 thoughts on “The Cape Cod Experience

  1. “As long as you’re not snotty”

    You’ve read your own writing, correct?

    Reply: Another anonymous potshot? Why not get a spray can and deface a wall?

  2. Oh come on! What is the matter with you and where are your manners. You certainly aren’t being forced to read this, so if you don’t like it, head elsewhere. For example, I can’t imagine a more terrible news site than the Globe’s so I have a very simple fix: I don’t read it. If you find food writing and commentary objectionable it sounds like a personal problem, as my mother likes to say.
    This blog has kept me entertained through long nights up with my baby boy so thank you, Mr. Haas.

  3. Not anonymous, I’ve identified myself on the blog before, and the email address I’ve supplied works.

    The magic of the internet is that when people write with your patented mix of self-satisfaction and hackery, we can respond.

    If you’re not comfortable with that, I’d suggest choosing a different medium, or at least disabling the comments functionality.


    Your email does not work, and saying you’re, “Rob, 29, and live in JP,” keeps you anonymous. The way it works in the real word of media–newspapers, magazines, radio, TV–is that letters to editors and producers must be accompanied by addresses and phone numbers or they aren’t published or aired. No one believes you, not even your mother who, when I gave her a Benjamin, gave me 80 back. Besides: you know my last name, what’s yours? So, adopting the standard practice of media: No last name, no address, no comment.

    The magic of the internet is that no one knows you’re a dog.

  4. Also, “no last name, no address, no comment” is a standard practice of media? In 2011? Check out any major news website. What kind of a dinosaur are you?

    I couldn’t care less if my view is “widely shared” or not, and it’s cute that you’re written almost as many books as Betty White. I think your writing is smug and repetitive, your views are poorly supported, you rely on cliches, you name-check your celeb-chef “friends” at every turn, you judge your fellow customers at restaurants as much as the food, you have an axe to grind against paid critics, and you generalize constantly. I think you are really bad at this.

    You write a blog that invites comments. If you can’t handle commentary, stop blogging.

    Reply: The problem here is that you are making odd, ad hominem attacks that are offensive. You don’t want to discuss ideas or offer a different viewpoint, you want to insult. Calling someone a dinosaur, for example. (Actually, online comments are routinely removed from The New York Times, The Guardian, BBC, and Chowhound, to name only a few sites, when the moderator deems them inappropriate. Like yours.) Or saying that the number of books is “cute” and comparing that to Betty White. These aren’t the comments of a grown up who wants to engage, but they reflect instead a person who either doesn’t get out much or has disorder in his thinking. I’m being serious when I say that and serious, too, when I say that it worries me and that you should seek help. My views are not poorly supported; they are evidence based. I do not rely on cliches. I suggest you read my work and see if you can find examples of “celeb-chef friends”; the last time I mentioned a chef I know and consider a friend was 5/18/11. I don’t judge customers, I don’t judge anyone. I don’t have an ax to grind against critics at all; I think Sam Sifton, Mark Bittman, Alan Richman, Jonathan Gold, and Anthony Bourdain write passionately and brilliantly about food. I’m sorry that Boston lacks critics as good as these writers, it’s a real shame, and one reason why restaurants in this region don’t achieve potential: The bar is set low. I try not to generalize. Specifically, there is clearly something wrong with you and not knowing precisely what it is I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to permit your comments here as I am genuinely worried about the extent and depth of your anger. If you want to engage in an informed dialogue with differing views that is respectful, you’re welcome to post again. (P.S. I know who you are, Ms.! Wow, I am flattered that you’d take the time to critique my work when your paid criticism is so time consuming. Still, think how much fun it’d be to have readers see you here! Too much, too funny!)

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