Far Afield

Winter is just effing relentless. We are very bored. We drove, what, two, three hours yesterday just to be in a slightly different place. Wantastegok.

The meal we had at T. J. Buckley’s of Brattleboro was worth a drive even further than that. I do not think you can dine like this anywhere in the Burlington area. It’s a tiny place. “Located in a restored 1925 dining car,” you can peer over at the one-man-band making your meal. And I did – my scallop dish was so phenomenal, I kept looking over my shoulder, saying, “Really? Really?” As in, this came out of that one guy and that little room right there? Somehow if there were a closed door and an undisclosed number of people and gadgets, it would be more believable. Oh gosh, I’m hungry just remembering it. I kept getting notes of vanilla. If there was vanilla in it, they didn’t disclose.

Oh, understand that prices were through the roof, and justifiably so. I’m so glad we went, though.

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