After check-in and a cat nap, we walked over to a bar we had been wanting to try for a while called Drink. We arrived shortly after it opened for the evening and headed down the stairs to be welcomed at the bottom by the hostess. I could see it was already hopping inside, despite only having been open for half an hour—and I mean "hopping" to the point that the hostess asked if we were okay standing at the bar while we waited for a seat to open.
"Sure!" we said. "No problem," and we were led to a private little section of bar that was actually a door through the bar front and only about a foot deep. This, I realized, I liked as soon as our bartender walked up. It was personal and intimate bar service like I'd never had before.
As we waited for our drinks, I took a good look around. A bare-bones establishment of concrete, black pipe, brick and Edison bulbs, Drink's decor vibe is definitely lacking—for some. If you like to go eat or drink at restaurants just because they look pretty, Drink is not for you.
HOWEVER...
I could have stayed at Drink all night, but our dinner reservation at Oak + Rowan was drawing nigh. We thanked Jackie, our bartender, for a wonderful afternoon and headed out the door and up the stairs—which were now packed with a long, long line of people that went out the door and was beginning to wend its way down the block. Note to self: visit Drink at 4:10 PM (and ask for Jackie!).
Oak + Rowan, it turns out, is another minimalist restaurant. Elegant and warm but simple and clean (with windows galore—love!), we were greeted with warmth and welcome and seated in a lovely corner booth. And the warmth and welcome continued when our server, Patrick, approached the table and began what would be an absolutely heavenly evening. Yes, it was a bit pricey. And, yes, you pay for your bread at Oak + Rowan. But you are so SO happy you did once you take your first, warm, homemade, chewy, sourdough-y, date-buttery bite.
And then there is the butter gem lettuce salad sprinkled with flower petals and cherries.
And the gnocchi drizzled with nettle (yes, nettle) pesto and nestled in mozzarella and the prettiest broth you ever did see.
And then...the dessert. THE DESSERT. I don't remember what it was called, but ask for the deconstructed Twix bar sent from the gods, and you won't be sorry. Maybe sick with happiness at this point, but definitely not sorry.
As we waddled our way back to the hotel, oh, the swoons. The sighs! The evening could not have been more deliciously perfect.
The whole weekend could not have been more perfect, actually. And we keep finding ourselves talking about the Seaport and it's lovely inhabitants and saying to each other, "Let's go back. Soon."
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