Heading to the Hamptons
Beaches would be great if it weren’t for all that sand. It’s just so gritty. I’ve never had a picnic on the beach where I didn’t get a grain of sand in my teeth.
I hate that.
Plus it’s hot. There’s almost no shade. And in East Hampton the water is freezing. At least in Miami you can get in the water without your entire body seizing up from the shock. So then it’s a fair question to ask why I’m going to this world famous beachside destination?
Okay, fried chicken and family. My father’s sister (Aunt S.) lives out there, and we’re going to have a four generation family shindig. In just a little while I’ll be swinging through Great Neck to pick up my Nana S. My little sister will take the train from Brooklyn to Great Neck and we’ll all drive out to the end of Long Island together.
Tonight we will have a cookout. But I’m not coming back to Albany without tasting the fried chicken that my Aunt S. has tormented me with for years.
That’s the thing. I’ve never had it. All I’ve heard is stories about how good this one place makes the stuff. By now it’s probably been hyped up in my mind to unachievable heights, because I’ve been hearing about this fried chicken for years.
But Aunt S. and Nana S. have a great track record when it comes to food.
It was a visit out to East Hampton close to twenty years ago when I discovered how good cheese could be when I was first exposed to Stilton. And I can’t believe it was four years ago, but Aunt S. took us to an amazing and decidedly non-touristy hidden seafood shack.
Tonight we are grilling. Maybe tomorrow I’ll finally get to try this chicken. And I hear there are actually multiple places for fried chicken out that way. It makes me wonder how much fried chicken I could realistically eat in four days.
Mrs. Fussy will once again miss out. She is being left behind to toil in the mines while I go off to play with the fussy little children. That means the posts may once again be a little rough around the edges until I get back from this trip on Saturday.
But post I will, even on vacation in this beachside paradise. It’s like some kind of disease.
Maybe you can do me a favor though and pray for rain. Then I can just hang out and eat, without having to step foot on the beach.