Provincetown, Year-Round

This article appeared in the February, 2014 issue of Destinations Travel Magazine

The malasadas are reason enough to drive out to Provincetown, Massachusetts. But these warm hunks of sugary, fried dough at the Provincetown Portuguese Bakery disappear when the store shuts down for the off-season.

Fortunately, there are many reasons to visit this seaside destination that don’t rely on the summer season, making a road trip to the tip of Cape Cod a sweet proposition any time of year. 

Like many beach towns, Provincetown’s vibrant, eclectic and active summer atmosphere cools off with the weather. The town stays busy enough, but is noticeably calmer and with fewer crowds than during peak season. This translates into little waiting at the best restaurants, vacancy at inns and hotels, and a romantic, meditative peace permeating the beach dunes. Even the drive out along Cape Cod, which many people dread during summer months due to traffic, becomes a leisurely ride through classic seaside towns.

In the midst of winter woes, it is easy to see why Provincetown is a relaxing haven.

Even before you reach Provincetown proper, several nearby treasures set the stage for leisure and romance.

Truro Vineyards of Cape Cod, about ten minutes away from Provincetown, is one such place. This local, family-owned and operated company produces quality wines, such as the crisp and refreshing Diamond White. Reminiscent of summer, a few glasses can warm even the chilliest of winter evenings.

After the winery closes for the season in mid-winter, Truro’s wines can be found in stores throughout the region. Adding a little whimsy and local flare to their stock, Truro features several vintages in a lighthouse-shaped bottle, in both clear and blue-colored glass.

The wine bottles are just one of many symbols of classic New England that abound here. The beachfront is perhaps the most appropriate, in any season.

Race Point Beach is part of the larger Cape Cod National Seashore, which is run by the National Park Service. Accessible right off of Route 6, Race Point Road is the scenic two-mile drive through a beach forest, complete with windswept oak and beech trees, dunes and foliage. It connects to other scenic roads or ends at a parking lot from which you can walk to the sand.

On crisp winter days there is a unique beauty in the dunes and widespread flats of Race Point Beach. Located opposite downtown on the other side of the peninsula, this classic, sprawling Cape Cod beach transforms into a barren, naked lunarscape when the summer sun tanners have gone. Only waves, seabirds or a frosty ocean breeze break the silence here. An occasional strolling couple will stop to sit on an oversized piece of driftwood, perhaps waiting for the early sunset or weighty winter moon to bathe the tableau in ethereal lights and colors. For the artist and tourist alike, inspiration and peace seem to be frozen into the dunes.

Closer to downtown, where the curvature of the Cape Cod tip curls in towards Provincetown Harbor, is the Breakwater Walk or Provincetown Causeway. The straight shot of massive stones that make up the breakwater traverses the harbor, connecting the corner of town to an outermost spit of scimitar-shaped land. Summer visitors scramble along the boulders, inches from the harbor, getting sprayed by seawater until they reach the other side where two lighthouses stand sentinel.

Off-season, the hordes have disappeared, the walk becomes a bit more daring and the seawater sprays just a bit icier. But the view of the Provincetown skyline – mainly marina buildings, small shops and the towering Pilgrim Monument – is unrivaled. So is the serenity and surrealism that comes from standing on a boulder surrounded by the ocean.  Even on ill-weather days, peering out at the stone causeway affords glimpses of the lighthouse through the fog: a confident symbol of the gritty dependability at the foundation of New England culture.

That culture is alive and well in the year-round restaurants and other establishments.

One of the town’s top spots, Mews Restaurants and Café, is open 363 days a year. Besides its exquisite setting, the award-winning Mews serves up delectable dishes, many which put a local twist on foreign-inspired dishes. Or sip a cocktail and fine-dine at The Pointe Restaurant with views of the Pilgrim Monument, which resembles the medieval Tuscan towers in Italy. Find a more casual and classic Cape Cod seafood meal, as well as spectacular oceanfront panoramas at Fanizzi’s by the Sea.

The benefit of a compact, walkable downtown, especially during winter, is the easy accessibility to the diverse array of open restaurants, shops and art galleries. The Provincetown Chamber of Commerce website (www.ptownchamber.com) makes it easy to determine year-round establishments – and there are many – by labeling them with a blue snowflake.

In a town that claims the title of Birthplace of Modern American Drama, entertainment is never in short supply at the local theaters. Many of the artists and art galleries that contribute to this town’s effervescent vibe remain year-round, allowing creativity to spill over onto the icy streets.

Locals gather annually to build a Christmas tree made out of lobster pots, lit, decorated and topped with fishing accoutrement. The result is strikingly beautiful and like the town itself, is an artful blend of imagination and iconic New England. The same goes for the lights strung from the ground to the top of the Pilgrim Monument.

Whatever reason spurs your visit, Provincetown is an attractive getaway option this winter. An off-season stay gives you the best of the beach without the normal fusses.

And if you stay long enough, you can catch the first batch of malasadas when the Portuguese Bakery reopens come springtime.

Halfway Between Cape Cod and Key West

The following appeared in the January 2014 issue of Destinations Travel Magazine

St. Michaels, Maryland is just about halfway between Cape Cod, Massachusetts and Key West, Florida, in every possible way.

This waterfront vacation town situated on the Eastern Shore of the Chesapeake Bay mingles the Florida Keys’ laid back vibe with the Cape’s sailboats and seersucker shorts. Art galleries, wine shops and boutique restaurants lounge beside souvenir stores and old-time ice cream parlors. Tiki bar bartenders sling fruity rum cocktails to partying tourists, while at the same time a couple exchanges vows in a quaint, waterfront wedding ceremony at the upscale resort across the harbor. 

Located about an hour and a half drive from either Baltimore or Washington, D.C., St. Michaels is a go-to destination for regional vacationers. The look and feel resembles a tropical version of a New England coastal town, seamlessly melding together aspects of both locales into a mid-Atlantic waterfront respite.

For Cape and Keys frequenters, the similarities begin before you even arrive. Weekend summer traffic on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge would make anyone who has ever crossed onto Cape Cod – or any other beach destination – shudder. The sheer size of the bridge makes it as much a modern engineering marvel as the Seven Mile Bridge the traverses the Florida Keys.

In culinary terms, Maryland is known for crabs in the same way that New England is for lobster and the Florida Keys are for fresh fish. There is no better way to get a flare for the Eastern Shore than to partake in a crab feast along the water, and there is no shortage of quality establishments. For years St. Michaels Crab Claw restaurant and St. Michaels Crab and Steak House – located directly across the harbor from one another – have been serving up local seafood and the hallmark Maryland blue crabs.

For the uninitiated, a crab feast is similar to a lobster bake in that work is involved. One typically begins with a table wrapped in paper, which is promptly covered with the cooked crustaceans. Steamed and covered in mounds of Old Bay seasoning, they are simply prepared. A small mallet, paring knife and placemat instructions will get you to the best bits. The sweet, familiar shellfish flavor skews unique with the abundance of salty seasoning.

The culinary delights don’t necessarily require waterfront dining. Tasty wood-fired pizzas sizzle when dropped on your table at Ava’s. You’ll find perfectly executed entrees, from local seafood to twists on comfort food classics at 208 Talbot. Both of these spots are located right on the town’s main thoroughfare, Talbot Street, which is home to everything a seaside village might need – restaurants, cafes, ice cream parlors, art galleries, souvenir and antique shops and even a brewery.

For a taste of the Eastern Shore that requires much less work than shelling a crab, visit St. Michaels Winery (www.st-michaels-winery.com). The tasting room, located right on Talbot Street, is an informal chance to sip some unique wines, like the Chocolate Zin, a luscious and tasty dessert wine. As with many of the mid-Atlantic vineyards, St. Michaels makes excellent, crisp and dry whites, perfectly paired with a seafood dinner or better yet, a sunset.

Where St. Michaels hovers in between its northern and southern cousins, it ascertains one aspect of seaside living that sets it apart from anywhere else – its sunsets.

Perching along the right Massachusetts inlet or cove will provide a spectacular view of the setting sun. In Key West there is an entire pavilion at the end of the town’s famed Duval Street dedicated to street performers celebrating the stunning sunset view each night. St. Michaels may just outdo them both.

A few minutes out of the town center, Wades Point Inn on the Bay (www.wadespoint.com) guards the elbow of this L-shaped peninsula. A tree-lined gravel road opens into a sprawling green lawn stretching in almost all directions to the water’s edge. At the center stands a grand, whimsical 1819 Georgian-style manor house wrapped in multi-level porches. The main house offers three floors of quaint, bed and breakfast rooms while an adjacent building constructed in the 1990s has more family-friendly accommodations.

Waking up at Wades Point means homemade breakfast made from local ingredients, like scrapple or eggs from down the road. But day’s end is the Inn’s best selling point, and one of St. Michael’s best treasures.

The savvy visitor will have filled a hammock, staked out a lawn chair or a spot on the dock well before dusk, perhaps with a bottle of wine from the St. Michael’s Winery. Wades Point staff will happily provide wine glasses and a corkscrew.

Any spot affords a breathtaking panorama of the bay. The sun sets straight on, sinking down behind a wisp of land across the Chesapeake just large enough to mark the split between sea and sky. It washes the entire yard in surreal colors: orange, pink and purple light, reflecting off the water and the manor house’s white exterior. Serenity and scenery are one in the same.

St. Michael’s may resemble the best of the Cape and the tropics, but it certainly has a charm all its own.

A Little Scottish Mussel

One of the best dishes I've ever eaten

Cuisine is not necessarily at the top of anyone’s tourism to-do list on a visit to Scotland. After all, their most well-known dish is comprised of a sheep’s stomach filled with a spiced intestine stuffing (haggis). But just because the United Kingdom’s culinary reputation lacks the luster of other European destinations, does not mean there isn’t a pearl to be found in some oysters.

The town of St. Andrews revolves around a castle, a cathedral and of course, a golf course. All of it is situated along a picturesque stretch of Scottish coastline with rocky jetties and expansive beaches. A drive through the surrounding coastal region reveals fishing villages nestled between the tee boxes. If Scotland was going to excel at one type of cuisine, it would assuredly be coming from the sea.

I had just finished exploring the ruins of St. Andrews Cathedral, situated at the tip of the town, overlooking a rock wall breaker, a beach and the sea beyond. I exited the crumbling walls through a side door and stepped onto a cliff walk that skirted down to the beach in one direction and off along the ridge in the other.

I heard crashing waves below and wandered to the right, declining downwards toward the water, past the small remains of a chapel and several signs identifying the historical significance of one of Scotland’s most important religious buildings. I strolled down to the breaker wall that projected out into the water, framing the adjacent beach, East Sands. At the tip of the breaker wall I turned to look at the St. Andrews skyline, which was made up predominantly of the cathedral’s jagged towers, roofs popping haphazardly and the silhouette of St. Andrews Caste standing guard castle further up the shoreline.

The panorama was spectacular, and a different perspective that I had not seen trekking through the village streets. I scanned the scene, noticing some fishing boats and smelling the briny water lapping up at the rocks. In that moment I was hungry.

My stomach rumbled as I retraced my steps back along the water and up to the cathedral. The smell of something delicious wafted along the sea air, prompting me to stop short and engage the man responsible. Since I had last been here outside the cathedral walls, a green umbrella had popped up and a young man with a pedal-powered food cart had positioned himself along the cliff walk. His setup was unlike a traditional hotdog or ice cream cart. It was a bicycle-powered mobile cooking unit - with large pots bubbling up on miniature stove tops and an elongated cooler at the end. Neatly printed in gleaming white on the emerald green cooler was, "The Wee Caboose."

He was selling mussels – that’s it. He had no other options besides freshly caught, local mussels gathered about an hour earlier a little ways up the road. Did I want some? My growling stomach almost answered for me.

I attempted to hand him my money but he said not yet, wait until they were cooked. He pulled a small bucket full from the cooler and dumped them into a creamy broth bubbling on his cooker.

They’d be ready in four minutes, he said. That was four minutes I had to figure out how and why he had gotten to be here on this cliff walk. As it turned out, this was the street vendor’s first time selling his mussels in St. Andrews and I was his very first customer. We chatted about where he came from and where the mussels came from (both in a village nearby) and he gave me some advice on other seaside Scottish towns I should explore (which I did a few days later, to great acclaim). He described his homemade recipe and I compared it loosely to the way seafood is traditionally prepared in New England, which took us off on a tangent about traveling and my hometown of Boston, Massachusetts. We even covered the military and military bases, after a few fighter jets swooped by in the distance.

All in all it was quite an enlightening discussion with this local Scot, and a fair introductory course before my main meal.

He broke off our conversation mid-sentence, knowing exactly when the mussels needed to be removed from the heat. He pulled out a cardboard rub, roughly the size of a sand pail, and tumbled in a couple dozen cooked mussels. He then kept pouring the milky broth until the shells were swimming. I handed him six pounds, he handed me lunch. He clapped me on my shoulder, said it was nice talking and wished me well.

Two passers-by saw the exchange and stopped to ask me how the food was. I hadn’t tried it yet, nor had I barely stepped away from the cart but the smell alone told me it was going to be unforgettable. The couple got two orders.

I took my lunch to a bench sitting along the cliff a few yards away. Flanked by rose bushes behind me, the outline of St. Andrews Castle a few hundred yards further along the cliff walk and the ocean crashing on the rocks below, I dove in. The mussels were perfectly cooked, tender and juicy. I had never tasted shellfish so sweet, even in New England. The broth was creamy with a strong pepper and garlic flavor, and really nothing else. The simplicity was its strongpoint. After I gorged on the mussels, sopped up the juice with the bread, I drank the remaining broth.

The combination of stunning venue and savory snack turned this afternoon into one of my most memorable food experiences. As it turns out, reputations are flimsy things. All it takes to break them is a little mussel.