Ever find yourself in one of the country’s most exclusive enclaves, hungry and with a bunch of cash burning a hole in your pocket? That’s called dinner time in Old Greenwich, CT, a beautiful bedroom community some 40 minutes — and a world away — from NYC.
Aside from the burning cash bit, that was pretty much our situation last weekend. So we popped into the Beach House Cafe for dinner, amidst an alarmingly high number of smartly dressed moms with kids (sans dads) and the usual collection of non-English speaking families led by expat Masters of the Universe.
The place has an interesting menu filled with the expected (fish tacos — had ’em; very tasty. Good, but not great) and the slightly unconventional (marinated skirt steak over greek salad) that, in all, reinforces the laid back, beach-bohemian vibe.
Decor is neat and clean, with white wainscoting and sturdy, functional furniture. But it’s inviting, as are the bathrooms: big, open spaces (well, the Men’s, at least) with dark glass tiles —I’m a sucker for glass tiles — saloon doors separating the sink from the urinals, and a separate door to the crapper. Best part, though, hands down, is the TVs perched directly above the pissers. Nice touch. Not sure how it ties into the beach theme and, frankly, don’t care.
What I DO care about is where the hell all those absentee dads were, and why they couldn’t take a Sunday night off from their golf and/or gumares to break bread with their overstressed, underworked wives and maladjusted chirrens.
Anywho, here’s all you need to know:
Rating of chew: 3 out of 5
Rating of loo: 4 out of 5