My mom has been on a 20 year mission, with the sole quest to convince me
to visit her favorite vacation spot. She
was a military officer's wife, with passports full of exotic destinations, and
a penchant for beaches, and therefore I am puzzled as to why I was not
persuaded by her passion for this one small, easily accessible island, off the
coast of the Carolinas, until now. My mom has
traveled to Bermuda seven times. Her
first trip was in the early 60s when she visited with a girlfriend. A few years later, she switched her honeymoon
to Bermuda from the originally planned Jamaica, at the last minute, due to
political unrest and that was the beginning of my parents' joint love affair
with the island. They returned five more
times together over the years. My dad adored the snorkeling and the freedom of
the mopeds, while my mom enjoyed the beaches and the food. I grew up with these stories and watched
countless slide shows of their trips, but for some reason never had an urge to
go, until my dad's illness and eventual death a year ago. During that incredibly hard year, my mom and
I promised ourselves that we would visit the island as a way to see some light
at the end of the tunnel of illness.
That dream got us through some tough nights. One year after my father's death, together,
as promised we made the trip, and made memories that will stay with me for my
lifetime.
The beauty of Bermuda is all that my mother described, and more, as the
colors of the ocean, flowers and houses cannot possibly be summed up in words
or even in photography. The colonial
architecture is stunning and evokes a strong sense of time. The people are hardworking and friendly with a
beautiful blend of British and American cultures, yet coupled with a distinct
island style.
We arrived at our destination, the Pompano Beach Club, a small 75 room,
family owned, resort, on the south side of the island, in the parish of Southampton.
I had worked with one of the the owners
years ago, back in New England, his American home base, but I had not stayed in
touch and was stunned to see him greet us and remember me when we walked in the
door to check-in. Over the course of our
week there, I came to learn that Tom Lamb and his brother Larry, are truly
masterful hoteliers in the warmest, convivial sense of the word.
Situated directly on the water, the views from every angle of the
resort, were magnificent. We had the
choice of 2 restaurants on-site or could take advantage of an exchange program
with other resorts, but despite the options, each night we opted for the Cedar
Room outdoor balcony where we could enjoy the fresh air and the deep colors of
the sunset. From this vantage point we
could see the beach and even the wildlife in the crystal clear waters. One evening
as the sun was setting in colors of pink and orange across the western sky, we
saw a large sea turtle meandering past. Another day we saw a school of gigantic,
rainbow colored parrotfish swim by.
There is no other word more fitting than paradise.
A critical component to my imagined paradise, is the food, and here it
was superb and plentiful. The nightly, changing,
5-course menu included many options, all of them creative and often celebrating
local freshly caught fish. Our seven
days of gourmandizing included delectible first courses, such as the simple and
elegant proscuitto wrapped asparagus, topped with onions, a little parmesan and
drizzled lightly with a bearnaise sauce.
The asparagus spears were crisp, fresh and complimented by the salinity
of the thinly shaved proscuitto. Other memorable starters were the apple and brie parcel, served over a celery walnut
salad with a raspberry dressing and the savory cheesecake over field greens.
Each soup was better than the last, and as the nights were perfectly
balmy, the type of temperature that is neither hot nor cold, I found myself repeatedly choosing the refreshing chilled options such as pear and champagne,
creamy cucumber and dill, carrot and mango, and vichyssoise. I often think of soup as comforting, and
almost thrifty, as a way to use up extra ingredients, or nourishing and hearty
as in a vietnamese pho, yet these chilled cousins were exactly the opposite. They
were chic and silky on the toungue, causing me to elegantly spoon small amounts
in a forward motion, the way my father taught me in manners lessons, as a young
child.
The salads were vivid, ranging from sweet beets chopped and served with
creamy goat cheese to a bright caprese, with thick slices of tomato, fresh
buffalo mozzarella and marinated onions.
Over a half dozen new main course options each night, made choosing a
dish both exciting and challenging.
Highlights
included a tender roasted duck with sugar snap peas and whipped potatoes,
delicately smothered in a Madeira jus; Tandoori spiced mahi mahi was fresh and
spicy; tempura battered tiger shrimp were huge, sweet and juicy; the filet
topped with a red Windsor (a British, red wine marbled, creamy, cheddar) crust, was fork-cutting tender; the seafood medley was chock full of shellfish served
in a saffron cream base, with a puff pastry; an oven roasted pork loin was stuffed with brie and apricots served alongside bacon braised endive over a sherry jus; and the herb crusted rack of lamb
with asparagus and whipped potatoes was savory and decadent, finished with a
red current and thyme jus.
My mother has never met a dessert she didn't like and therefore made a
point of sampling the everchanging menu.
Many of her selections were ice cream based, beautiful to the eye, and
met her criteria of "sliding down easy" when we were already full to
our limits.
Clearly the food was sumptuous, however adding to that was a friendly
staff who remembered our names every day, sought out the best spot on the
balcony for our meals, remembered our beverage preferences, and made us feel
like we were the only guests in the resort.
That strong family feel permeated all of our experiences. The first Monday of our trip, Tom and his
brother Larry hosted a reception for the
guests where they served hors deouvres and the national cocktail, a Rum
Swizzle, which is a sweet concoction of Bermuda rum, pineapple, orange, and
lime juices and grendadine. While the
staff helped out, Tom and Larry were ever present with pitchers, ensuring our swizzles
did not run low. At this event we met a
business man who frequented Bermuda for his job with one of the big insurance
agencies located there. Early on in his career he stayed at the big,
fancy resorts in Hamilton, but in recent years. he chose the Pompano because
the owners know his name, they wait for him at the front desk if his plane is
late, they drive him to the commuter ferry each morning and pick him up upon
his return, and when you travel frequently for business, these little family
style nuances are important. It doesn't hurt that he is a big snorkeler and the
Pompano is one of the few resorts on the island with a private beach, loaded
with stunning fish.
In addition to the great shopping and lazy days at the beach, my mother
and I also took advantage of the snorkeling, booking an excursion our last day on
the island. She had previously snorkeled
with my father, who was an avid swimmer and she was determined for me to see
the underwater sights. Eight other
guests joined us on the trip organized through
the resort with Captain Demian Tucker of Exclusive Charters BDA. It was a rough, but sunny day and Demian wisely
took us to a shallow location to start, where we could hug the coral caves
along the shore and see amazing fish, but also still touch bottom. My mother does not swim and while she is in
amazing shape for a septegenarian, who managed to rock a pair of Mickey Mouse
arm swimmies, you can imagine my level of trepidation over supporting her, but
fortunately this was the perfect venue. We held hands, swimming along the coast,
pointing excitedly to the schools of colorful fish, in what turned out to be a
wonderful mother/daughter bonding experience.
Next, Demien took us 2 miles offshore, anchored the boat in twenty-one
feet of aquamarine water on the edge of a twelve foot reef. The wind was up, the swells were rolling, and
there was not another boat in sight. I am a strong swimmer, or I was back in my
childhood, but like many of the folks on the boat, I was a bit hesitant. Wisely Demian did not let my mother join me,
but instead poured her Rum Swizzle and made her comfortable. I jumped into the swells and after a quick
initial second of panic, I realized it looked far rougher than it felt actually
swimming in it. I glided over the edge
of the reef, comforted by my own Darth Vader-like breathing, and was
immediately transported into another world.
Here brain coral and fan coral came in all colors and provided habitat
for a diverse mix of multi-colored fish, most not fearful at all of our
presence. I was transfixed and as I reflect back, I
believe that is as close as I have come in recent years to a state of flow, a mental
state, attributed to Mihály CsÃkszentmihályi, where essentially one is fully
immersed in an activity so focused and full of enjoyment that time passes
faster than you thought possible. The combination of the silence of the
water, the beauty of the sea world, and the physical activity involved, temporarily
shut out any of my angst and filled me with exquisite joy, which after all, is the purpose of a vacation.
There is something shiveringly special about visiting this island of
paradise, home to so many of my parents' most pleasurable vacation memories,
with my mother at my side. I can now
envision the beaches where they sunned and swam. I saw the bridge near St. Georges where they infamously
raced mopeds. I walked the streets of
Hamilton where they shopped together. I saw
the restaurants where they dressed-up for formal dinners. The grainy slides of my young, starry-eyed
parents, have come to life in a sharply romantic way. I also understand the magic of the island
that kept them returning year after year, and why no other tropical destination
ever held a candle to Bermuda. My mother
and I have made another promise to each other, we have created our very own
tradition, one captured on Facebook instead of slides, yet also poignant, we will
together return in just a few years to celebrate her 75th birthday with rum
swizzles and mouth watering five-course meals.
We hope Tom and Larry remember us!
After
three or four years, I itched to try my skills at more upscale dining and
landed a summer job at restaurant on the South Shore of Massachusetts called
the Hummarock River House. Owned by a
Greek husband and wife team, they specialized in Mediterranean inspired
seafood. I quickly came to realize the
difficulty in juggling multiple courses, learning cocktail language, and discerning
between Chardonnay and Chablis, all at a time when I had barely sipped
Boone's Farm around a camp fire. To say I was in over my head was an
understatement, but the staff were kind and my fondest memories of that
induction into fine dining, happened around 5pm each night. By that time, we had finished our prep work, had a little downtime before the first early-birds arrived, and as a
staff we sat down to eat. Typically we
had soup, ladled out of a big cauldron. Sometimes the kitchen would serve us a
new dish or prepare one of the specials for the night so that we could better
describe the flavors. This time of the day was special, the calm before the storm.
It reminded me that each shift was a new day, and a chance to prove to
myself that I could stay out of the weeds that service. 
I
eventually grew more comfortable on the floor and was even asked to be cocktail
waitress, when strangely, after hours, the fine restaurant turned into a wild
bar scene. I often retell stories of the bar fights and the drunken guy who managed to lose his pants but wanted to order
a beer, naked. I, however, had not thought about the staff dinners until recently, when I learned that Christine
Carroll and Jody Eddy, wrote an entire, beautiful, culinary book about staff
meals, the world around. The book,
titled “Come In, We’re Closed: an Invitation to Staff Meals at the World’s Best Restaurants” includes City Grocery, here in Oxford, Mississippi. Recently, I
had the pleasure of joining a staff meal with Jody Eddy and Executive Chef John
Currence, celebrating Jody's book tour.
City Grocery, located in the heart of Oxford's scenic square, is known for its southern cuisine classics like shrimp and grits as well as seasonal inventive twists like Mississippi fried quail and waffles with spicy pepper jelly and green onion coulis. On this early evening, the front of the house was quiet, aside from a few servers checking last minute place settings, and others sitting together folding napkins for the impending rush. The bartender methodically loaded ice, sliced citrus, and stocked liquor. The kitchen was another story, bustling with preparations for the evening meal. Cucumbers were sliced, sheet pans of crostinis were toasted, and pots simmered on the stove all in a highly orchestrated frenetic symphony. 
At some point, with little fanfare, the kitchen staff emerged and loaded the bar top with a steaming cast iron pot of chicken and dumplings, cornbread, cucumber and onion salad, and bananas foster bread pudding. The waitstaff brought plates and joined in, family style, serving themselves and sitting together at back tables. Conversation flowed across tables, stories were shared, and it truly felt like a family dinner. 
The chicken and dumplings were unlike any I have experienced. The chicken was loosely shredded and the consistency was that of a rich stew. The moist cornbread acted as the dumplings, sopping the juices, and the fresh cucumber and onion salad with herbes de Provence, added a bright note. I overindulged a bit on the main course, but left a little room to sample the bread pudding, fortunately, as it was crispy on the outer edges and custardy on the inside with chunks of banana, and then drizzled with the brown sugar rum sauce and a dollop of freshly whipped cream. 
As the staff finished eating, they swiftly cleared the tables and the bar, and within moments, the tempo again changed to the feeling you get ten minutes before anyone shows up to your party - a little excited energy, a bit of last minute movement to complete lingering tasks and a delicious quiet that is guaranteed to transform momentarily. Everyone was ready, in the groove, satiated by a great meal and inspired by their team.
