Eatin’ and Drinkin’ N by NE

It was that time of the year, God only knows how time can pass so quickly when that species so nicknamed by Floridiates, “Snowbirds,” point their vehicles North and home. “Home” is where the heart is and our home is Maine, but I must confess Arthuritis does muchly appreciate the warmth and sun of the sunnier climes in winter. So this year, I told good friends that we were headed N by NE by the bitter end of May; however, were the weather and forecast cold and wet, we might just stay into June. Reports were north of 50’s.

Now a regular reader of the scribblings in this column knows, AJ and I have become rather fond of taking roads less taken. This year was somewhat different with Rte. 95 the backbone. Heading up from Englewood on 75 we were going to try 301 out of Gainesville, only to skip the exit and go sailing on by and having to pick up the next easterly crossing. Early treat of the day. Delightful cruise through North Florida countryside. Overhanging trees, farmlands, beautiful old homesteads all lent themselves to a perfect afternoon. Slight problem, we were headed to Fernandina Beach and reservations for 6PM at restaurant LA Spagna made by AJ some days before. By now we hadn’t a clue for timing. However, “Asphaltus,” God of modern day Travelers, even with a few more wrong turns and stops at produce stands for tomatoes and Georgia peaches, dropped us off in front of La Spagna with the clock reading 6:05.

Criteria of traveling for us is not so much what the stopover town is as to what it offers for food and beverage. Second, and not so far trailing is a comfortable bed and clean room located within a 15 minute drive from the aforementioned. AJ, in consultation with her mate, does a bang-up job. This night was no exception. Late arrival was booked for the room to better enjoy the beaches and environs of Fernandina town after dinner. And, dinner was excellent. La Spagna, with its Spanish oriented venue and menu, turned out to be a 5 star pick. We ordered Paella, voted House favorite and house wine. Could easily taste the five star rating.

Again, for you, my readers know, libation of choice is a Martini. Recipe changing occasionally in the pursuit of excellence. Good Vodka (God forbid of the tasteless Grey Goose ilk), splash of decent Pinot Grigio, shaken not stirred, straight up, rocks on the side with a good sized twist of lime. The lime twist was discovered out of desperation this past New Year’s Eve in St. Pete when the overwhelming crowds had drained the skytop bar of most condiments and additives. La Spagna bartender managed to follow directions to the letter and two sent the aches of arthuritis and driving to livable status.

With a few hours of walkaround this charming and unique (Trains are constantly loading freight with tracks to be crossed to the beach) town, decision had to be find the motel. Back in the car, GPS ignited, we head north in what should have been an easy 20 mile run. 18 miles up, blinking lights with “Detour” bridge repairs sign appears. So, what any normal, often lost driver would do, I took the directed left and we drove, and drove, and drove until finally spotted a so named U.S. Govt. Intelligence Airfield bristling with barbed wire and lighting sufficient to illuminate a small town. Under protest, I drove up to the gate, only to be stopped 50 ft. away by a heavily armed and armored guard person with backup. After determination was made we were not part of an invasion force in AJ’s new Volkswagon, I inquired how much further to Kingsland and reply was somewhere in the order of 85 miles. The detour ran clear to the west, around the town and then had to drive south again. His suggestion was to go back and take a South River road, which “Maggie” our GPS had neglected to mention, in to Kingsland. Almost midnight, not a pleasant ending to a long day.

Next stop after an early morning rise, Charleston, S.C. and a stopover with good friends, the Ravenels, and Moise for a sample of Cathy Ravenel’s excellent southern cooking and her signature Mojitos. With a tour of Mt Pleasant’s beautiful homes by Henry’s golf cart completed, we met Ben and Ann Moise back at the house for the “Children’s Hour,” and conversation. Dinner followed with a spinach and fresh strawberries salad, delicious chicken dish, accompanied by a rice, the likes of which we had never imagined could be so good. South Carolina long grain aromatic. Needed not to be buttered nor oiled. Rather more like eating candy with guiltless seconds. Last course, dessert, Cathy passed us a piece of the more decadent chocolate cake/brownie ever tasted.Impossible to regulate sugar intake with this one.

Next morning it was roll out before the mice had retired, head N by NE again with next stop Fredericksburg, VA, one of our favorite watering holes and a room downtown. Get together next month.

As a humble tribute to our rapidly growing oyster industry here in Maine I offer this simple recipe. Since discovering oysters in Annapolis, MD I’ve felt nothing should detract from that great, salty briny flavor and this is about as simple as one could imagine excepting half-shell.

• R E C I P E •

Oysters on Toast

Oysters, as many as you wish 2-3 T butter per 12 oysters

2 slices of bread, more or less as

desired

Lemon wedges (optional)

Open oysters and reserve liquor. Melt the butter in a skillet and toss in the oysters. Stir fry for no more than 40 seconds depending on size. DO NOT OVERCOOK. Toast the bread, preferably a good rustic Tuscan style. Using a slotted spoon, remove oysters and pile them on the toast. Pour reserved liquor into pan and swirl into butter. Pour over oysters and squirt a bit of lemon if desired. Almost a serving for (one) oyster lover.