Last night, after some recent ribbing that Peter and I never venture past the northern border of Boston city limits, we joined a convoy headed to the seacoast town of Winthrop. There were eight of us, all who live here in our South Boston condo building, and we piled into two cars: one filled with ladies and one filled with the guys. Our destination was the Winthrop Arms Hotel, a blast from the past with a huge lobby with checked white tile floors and big comfy couches which were perfect for enjoying a pre-dinner cocktail.
As we headed into the dining room, the manager/maitre d’ told us to enjoy our dinner, and to be sure to visit the restrooms, “the cleanest in the city!” There was a full menu but there was no doubt about what I was ordering. Our friends had been talking up the homemade chicken pot pie, and being a self-proclaimed pot pie affecianado (and snob), I eagerly ordered my dinner. I was not disappointed. The buttery crust completely enveloped a huge bowl of delicious pieces of roasted chicken, rich gravy, and assorted fresh vegetables. Not a dish for the diet-conscious, but hey, life is short, right?
Even better than my delicious dinner was a chance to hang out with Peter, Mary Ann, Jan, Joanne, Robb, Phyllis, and Salvador. It was the first time we’d all been together socially and we had a lot of laughs. In fact, we decided that our next get-together would be a retro (circa 1955) potluck dinner. Think tuna noodle casseroles, pretty Jello molds, cheese balls, deviled eggs, and olive loaf. Am I making you hungry?
PS: Here’s a gratuitous photo of Salvador – not from last night’s dinner – but in response to his complaints that I never run photos of him on my blog. The nerve…